Drummer in the Dark

Have you come across Arthur Thompson, DSO (1917 – 1975)?

He may be more familiar as Francis Clifford, his pen name, but I reckon he is a largely forgotten author. I discovered him in an old copy of Wooster Sauce, that magnanimous publication that sometimes gives credit to other authors. He served in the SOE with some distinction and, like Ian Fleming, his novels are drawn from his life with a lot of Tabasco.

I didn’t mean to do it yesterday afternoon. I just wanted to read a page or two to see how he wrote and get enough flavour for a post. Three hours later I put down a superb thriller. It’s not always the case but the plot carried me along intoxicatingly. Only later did some implausibilities spring to mind.

It’s the sort of book you should read if you are probably male, on a long flight, and are good at catching the eye of a flight attendant to keep up fuel supplies; even better than a Saturday afternoon on a sofa in Barons Court. There are no long words, like marmalade, and the plot rattles along. I highly recommend it if you can find a paperback. I have now ordered his The Grosvenor Square Goodbye.

One of the many enjoyable aspects of Drummer in the Dark is it’s so dated, published posthumously in 1976. Ford Granadas, Tridents, on which you may smoke, and no mobiles of course; like The Professionals and Minder and the rest of that beguiling genre.