Former consultant Paul Ulrich's first novel, Saudi Match Point (2007, Blacksmith Books, 268 pages, HK$80), swirls around some incredibly popular topics: espionage, terrorism, oil and superpower rivalries. So it faces an uphill battle against many of fiction's biggest names.
As a result, Ulrich's imperfect, promising tale attracts less attention than it probably deserves. He creates appealing characters, notably Nick Hansen, a China expert at the American embassy in Saudi Arabia, and Hajar bint Saleh Al-Qaatil, a naïve local girl, the daughter of a radical cleric, terrified at the prospect of an unwanted arranged marriage.
Stealthy Nick behaves heroically against his government's wish to bully smaller nations and invade at the slightest excuse. This time, the Americans await an expected hostage crisis to justify seizing Saudi oilfields. Does China pack enough clout in the region to thwart the mighty United States?
A subplot exposes Islamic law's harsh treatment of women, who must not drive cars, work without male permission or defy strict dress codes? “Only a foolhardy woman would dare walk uncovered and risk the wrath of the mutawwas, the bearded and ill-mannered religious police who patrolled the streets in search of moral laxity. ‘Cover yourself, woman!’ they would scream while beating the offender with a stick. If accompanied by a regular policeman, as was often the case, they would haul the criminal off to prison.”
What justifies outlawing women drivers? “Saudi men say it's because they treat us like ‘queens’, because we all deserve chauffeurs. That's absurd. What did the prophet ever say about automobiles?... Women in every other Muslin country can drive. Why not here?”
Saudi Arabia may be a land of hypocrisy with the greatest decadence behind palace walls? “Curiosity got the better of him. After affecting an air of nonchalance, he made sure no one was watching and peeked in through the door…. The room was dark. Something glowed with an orange incandescence in the middle and he could make out the shapely forms of women, reclining with men in various stages of undress. Nick thought he heard European accents as one of the women spoke incoherently in English. Was she drugged?”
Racial and ethnic tensions ripple. “With so many foreign kafirs, the coastal areas are looser in their ways than the Saudi heartland. You'll be shocked by some things you see there, but don't worry: one day soon we'll push them all into the sea to sink into the slime they created.”
Too many sentences and paragraphs need tidying and routine maintenance. They clunk and clang. Consider this one: “Two stacks of papers and files weighed down both sides of a simple desk.” Is that one stack, two stacks or four stacks per side?
Or this: “The product of a ‘weekend marriage’ in Cairo, where a Saudi visitor married and divorced his mother in the space of a weekend, Sheikh Saleh came on the hajj to Arabia as a young man and never returned….” Did the visitor dally with Saleh's mother or his own? Did Saleh never return to Saudi Arabia or elsewhere?
Ulrich tumbles into many of the traps that afflict new novelists. For example, as characters appear, so do their laundry lists: “He wore thick glasses, dark slacks, a white shirt and thin black tie.”
Some passages distract by reminding too much of Ian Fleming's fictional secret agent named “Bond… James Bond”. Remember how Bond always arrives at headquarters. Now here comes Hansen.
“ 'Miss Fischbein, is the ambassador in?’
The long, gnarled fingers of Martha Fischbein paused over the keyboard, like a hovering predator waiting for the right moment to pounce. She stared at Nick Hansen, who came armed with pen, paper and carrying case. Her eyes moved back to the computer screen, then again at the intruder. ‘And good afternoon to you, too. Do you have an appointment? There's nothing listed.’ ”
Bond routinely relies on hi-tech weapons. Some of that happens in this book too. “The only difference between these flying circular knives and regular DVDs will be their jagged edges, which become deadly in the expert toss of a Shaolin master…. We might also enable the laser pointing devices used in presentations to act as mini stun grenades, emitting tear gas or smoke when tossed hard against an object.”
There's even a hint of secret agent Maxwell Smart as played by Don Adams in Get Smart, a 1960s TV show. Invariably, Smart wanted to “lower the cone of silence” for private discussions with his boss. At Ulrich's Chinese embassy, “Jia looked up from his notepad and addressed Ma Ling by her title in Chinese. ‘This sounds important, Director Ma. Shall we go into the secure room?
‘Yes, sir. I believe that would be best.’ ”
Despite the book's problems, its characters pique interest and the plot gains momentum. By the late-going, it's an exciting “page-turner”.
Ulrich, who understands Chinese and Arabic, has rich experiences to inspire fiction. For two decades, he toiled as a consultant (on economics, telecoms and policies), bureaucrat, foreign-aid worker and software entrepreneur. Earlier, he studied at Yale, Harvard and Stanford. His background shows in the story.
“Nicholas, give the man what he wants. That's the cardinal rule for any consultant – if you want to stay in business. If you disagree, even if you have the soundest arguments and turn out to be right, what good will it do you? You will have annoyed your boss, particularly if you show him up.”
Saudi Match Point leaves an impression of promise as vast as the Arabian sands. In some ways, Ulrich excelled – in others, not so much. Do his readers thirst for more? Yes! Will this reviewer watch for his name in future? Absolutely!
Approval rating: 57 per cent
For more information: www.blacksmithbooks.com
(September 3, 2010)
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Paul Ulrich: imperfect,
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