Past Tense by Lee Child, review: ‘I found myself absorbed in Jack Reacher’s world’

It’s thought that the late wine critic Auberon Waugh once said that if a drinker has a preference for Blue Nun or Black Tower, or just loves a Babycham, they should never feel obliged to give up their favourites, alter their palate and learn to love the beverages that come with a Château Latour label. If an activity is fun, and brings you pleasure, there’s no point in spending your time and money on the less accessible version, to appease snobs, when you can get what you like from a supermarket, with change from a tenner. As Miss Jean Brodie said: “For those who like that sort of thing, that is the sort of thing they like.”

Perhaps starting with references to Waugh and Spark is proof that I am singularly unqualified to review Lee Child’s latest Jack Reacher novel, Past Tense. But then, Child, and his fans don’t need me to like it. Child has sold more than 100 million books. Words of praise from Child can help other crime writers to sell out overnight. Of course, he’s a figure of fun for literary snobs, but reading Child brings pleasure to millions, and there’s plenty of pleasure available.

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This summer, the writer Erik Tanouye tweeted an “investigation” of the size of the hands of Jack Reacher, Child’s most popular protagonist. Reacher’s hands were variously “the size of a supermarket chicken”, with “fists like Thanksgiving turkeys”, and “the size of a dinner plate”. But then, some of the greatest artists in the world couldn’t do hands. One Twitter user suggested that Child wrote when he was hungry. I think there must be some truth in this theory, because in Past Tense, Reacher never seems to be out of a restaurant. An early plot point hinges around some granola bars. Child takes pains to establish the exact sort of eaterie our hero finds himself in, remarking on inferior crockery, and the presence or absence of table cloths. Combined with Reacher’s reluctance to use computers, the early part of the novel feels a little bit like being on holiday with your sprightly grandparents.

It took me a little while to catch the rhythm of Child’s words. I was not expecting him to be a prose stylist, and sometimes the novel reads like an aggressive EDM mix of Albert Ayler at his most obscure. There’s repetition, and some of the call backs are knowing, but some are just plain jarring. We’re never allowed to forget that Reacher is a former cop and serviceman, with high functioning eyes and ears. But then, I got caught in an undercurrent, and found myself being chilled and consumed by the other plot – the couple, seemingly held against their will, at a strange roadside motel. I found these characters creeping into my head at odd intervals, at the gym or doing the washing up. I found myself absorbed in Reacher’s world, very suddenly – in the way that two glasses of Blue Nun can seem no more potent than lemonade until you stand up quickly.

The pace picks up, and the creepiness becomes downright disturbing, the action becomes brutal, and we’re led to an extremely satisfying conclusion. There isn’t much redemption in Reacher’s world, only violent retribution, and I was shocked by my own blood lust. In the real world, good guys don’t necessarily win. I’m becoming increasingly understanding of our appetite for fiction that features proper punishment for baddies. It’s deeply comforting to escape into an imaginary world where we’re all safe in Jack Reacher’s gammon-joint sized hands. Lots of people read Lee Child when they’re on holiday. I’ll be reading his work when I feel as though I need a quick, refreshing holiday from reality.

‘Past Tense’ by Lee Child is published in hardback by Bantam Press, £20