Boris Akunin - The Death of Achilles (2006)
Reviewed by Fiona Walker
Erast Fandorin returns to Russia after six year’s diplomatic service in Japan, and immediately finds himself thrown into a mystery that will see his skills of both mental dexterity and physical survival tested to the limit.
General Sobolev, popularly known as “The Russian Achilles,” a national hero after much distinguished conduct during the Russo-Turkish war, is found dead in his hotel room. Fandorin hears of the circumstances of his old friend’s death, and is reluctant to put the death down to simple natural causes. He tells his superiors his misgivings, and they give him permission to look into the matter himself. If something suspicious is indeed going on, it will be best for them to seem to have spotted it.
So, with the help of his new Japanese manservant Masa, who has a disturbing habit of trying to get his boss laid, Fandorin begins to investigate the most curious affair of his career so far.
Akunin’s novels really are quite a treat. It’s hard to know what level to appraise them on, really: they’re terrific swashbuckling mystery/adventure stories; they’re very funny satires, and they also swallow up sly literary and cultural references that demonstrate how Akunin is one of the most intelligently playful writers you could possibly pick up. Oh, and they’re superbly entertaining, too.
Fandorin, of course, is most often cited as the best thing about these novels. (I don’t particularly agree; I just love the playful tone that doesn’t take itself very seriously; the jokes and references that Akunin slips in just to amuse himself, but which are rewarding when you manage to spot one of them. How many go by unnoticed, it’s impossible to know.) He’s certainly a great character, and has got readers coming back for more In their droves. Endlessly mysterious, honorable, witty, sharp as a pin, he’s great company to spend a novel with.
Akunin’s greatest triumph with him is always leaving the reader wanting more. He has a tendency to shift the focus off Fandorin which means he remains a constant enigma. We never spend enough time with him to feel we completely know him. There’s always the sense of a lot left hidden that we want to know about. Turkish Gambit was written largely from the perspective of a female character; Murder on the Leviathan was told from the point of view of four different characters; and halfway through this novel Akunin shifts from Fandorin to write from the perspective of the villain (who is possibly Akunin’s best creation yet). It’s particularly successful here, giving the book a completely new injection of fresh fiery life just at the moment it needs it.
This method of never quite giving the reader as much of Fandorin as they want means they’ll keep coming back for more. Not only that, but it keeps Akunin’s books and style fresh and interesting. They’re really a hybrid of the standalone novel and the series novel: he has the advantage of a recurring protagonist as hook to keep readers coming back, but also the freedom to explore completely new characters and narrative structures.
And even when you’ve dispensed with all the unselfconscious cleverness, they’re still great mysteries, exciting adventures, as Fandorin careens around Moscow getting himself into all kinds of scrapes. They’re full of charming esoteric tidbits, too.
The novels may be wildly improbable (then, they’re supposed to be), but they're also wildly entertaining, very easy to read, and very, very charming. They have a multitude of qualities to recommend them, and if you haven’t read one yet you are definitely missing out. The Death of Achilles is a great place to start rectifying that.
Posted by Fiona Walker in Book Reviews | Permalink
