What a ride, what a book. For years, Rupert Thomson was just one of those authors whose names you occasionally heard or saw, names associated with tasteful covers and decent reviews, but not with major literary awards or mainstream media attention—making it easy to overlook him.
This changed a week or so ago when Humo reviewer and Goodreads friend Joachim Stoop enthusiastically wrote about Thomson’s latest novel, How To Make A Bomb. He declared it the best book he had read this year, giving it a 4.5-star rating. Trusting Joachim’s taste as aligning with my own, I impulsively decided to purchase the book for my vacation reading.
Well, I am incredibly glad I did… what a writer, this Thomson. Stylistically top-notch, incredibly precise, elegant, and musical, with a distinctive page layout where many sentences begin on a new line, adding emphasis without feeling like the effect-seeking associated with so-called Enter-prose. The absence of periods might suggest a connection to poetry, but it doesn’t quite fit that either, despite the musicality and elegance of his language. Instead, attention is often drawn away from the language itself by the compelling way Thomson draws you into the subtle, ambiguous, yet consistently believable and thrilling journey through what initially seems like a midlife crisis of the protagonist, Philip, but gradually evolves into something far more encompassing.
If there are authors Rupert Thomson reminds me of, it would be Don DeLillo, with whom he shares a linguistic elegance, a love for symbolism and significance, and Paul Auster, who can make a novel of ideas both heart-wrenching and thriller-like in its suspense. On a scale of 1 to 10, I would have given How To Make A Bomb a 9; for now, I’ll limit myself to 4 solid stars, as I only give 5 stars to near-perfect books, and this one just falls slightly short.
However, this is a call to action, especially for those who prefer reading in English. Remarkably, in the Netherlands, Xander Publishers previously released two of Thomson’s books, proving they do more than just publish Lucinda Riley, but apparently, those translations didn’t gain much traction, as How To Make A Bomb does not seem to have been acquired by a Dutch publisher. I urge you to delve into Thomson’s work. And while international juries are unlikely to read this, shouldn’t Rupert at least be on a Booker Prize shortlist or something?
Many thanks, Joachim!
