TWELVE STEP FANDANGO

Chris Haslam

Abacus £6.99

Reviewed by Les Hurst

Geek, gonzo, freak, coke head? What might describe Martin Brock? Would you want to describe him? Only if you were on his tail, trying to recover your five kilograms of cocaine Martin removed from its hiding place under the motorbike seat of his dead French friend, who was also your son. Even then, because such a motive as cocaine retrieval is regarded as improper, both by the law and by those users who have a socialist desire to see equality in distribution up their nostrils, you might not reveal that you were on his trail; not until you were near enough to put your hands on the magic crystals at least.

On the other hand if you were a geek, gonzo, freaking coke head like Martin Brock you might attribute those qualities to everyone you knew. Experience would teach you that they were. Especially girlfriends.

Sometimes, between the ant-attacks and the blind craving, and probably after the snow white high, Martin knows that his life is not going to last forever, and given the miserable circumstances he shares with petty crooks, bikers, hippies and drop-outs in the dry hills behind the Costa del Sol, that means both life as it is, and life full stop. Martin wants out - to have your old mate turn up out of the blue is nice; to have him die on the busted springs of your settee is perhaps unfortunate; but to find he has 5kg of white that no one else in town knows about is very heaven. It should be Martin's ticket out of there.

Then the torture and the killing start. And Martin can not go to the police, who might be too interested in talking to him. It starts him on a chase through the dry mesas and down to the coast, where he has previously made his living selling well-cut snow to holiday makers, and making a little more on the side fencing their stolen passports.

Okay - think of no one who is not a worthless user, whose every recovery from an apparent OD is unfortunate. Then think of some who are worse than that. They are the dramatis personae of TWELVE-STEP FANDANGO - and it is also the reason why every time some new cruel misfortune strikes anyone I burst out laughing. Chris Haslam suspended any feeling I had of human decency, and when he wraps up the plot - there is a plot, quite a tight one, too - there will be no regrets over hearing the gaol doors slam.

A bit of TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE and a bit of KIND HEARTS AND CORONETS, a lot of drug induced paranoia, but even more paranoia justified by what's going on - that is TWELVE-STEP FANDANGO. Just don't expect to like any one. This is not a novel with a hero.