DESCENT FROM XANADU (1984) by Harold Robbins
Let's
make it clear from the start: This book is a disaster. It has no
redeeming qualities. I expected a trashy thriller - but I just got bored
and disappointed.
It may be "educational" for aspiring writers, as an example of how not to tell a story...
The
author Harold Robbins was once one of the top bestsellers in the world,
with novels like THE CARPETBAGGERS - lurid tales about money, power and
sex - daydreams of wordly success and excess.
Robbins tried to
live as excessively as his fictional characters - and he used a lot of
drugs. Incidentally, the rich protagonist in DESCENT FROM XANADU has two
obsessions: finding immortality and cocaine...
Sounds like a thriller, right? Only it isn't.
Turns
out the tycoon protagonist's drug habit is actually more important than becoming immortal.
The plot literally stops in its tracks many times because he has to
score cocaine.
The only friend (sort of) he has is his dealer. Seriously.
After
a seemingly endless number of cocaine stops, the novel dimly recalls
that the plot was supposed to be about a guy who tries to become
immortal. It makes a mad rush for the ending, stumbles and falls flat on
its face on the final page.
See, kids, this is what can happen
when a writer's personal hangups are allowed to completely take over the
narrative, without being questioned or challenged - creative failure.
Readers: Avoid DESCENT FROM XANADU.
Writers: Read and learn. (And stay away from cocaine! )
(If you do want a good trashy 80s read, try Jackie Collins instead.)
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