Thoughts on Meghnad Desai's foray into fiction

What do you get when you mix British political history, a megalomaniacal media baron, dollops of sex and a football match with tabloidesque gossip and a motley cast of characters written in a dull, insipid manner? Dead On Time, Lord Meghnad Desai’s first foray into fiction. The novel’s insipidness is hardly surprising considering the author’s expertise about a subject, which is as bland as the novel itself – economics.

The blurb on the cover jacket states that the book is “a delightful mix of humour, action and realpolitik.” But well within the first 100 pages you feel the absence of humour, sexual overtones overcast whatever little action is visible and realpolitik is defined in terms of how skilfully the Prime Minister, Harry White, dodges his secretaries Christine and Sarah. In between, Desai informs the reader – in his trademark uninspired writing – about how Downing Street got its name and the importance of being interviewed by John Humphrys. But the most dominant features of the book are sexual escapades of politicians and political hoodwinking. The plotline, humour and language be damned.

So there’s Harry White, a good ol’ British Prime Minister obeying orders from Uncle Sam, trying to solve the Middle East peace crisis while being charismatic and politically savvy. He also falls for his diary secretary, Sarah, has to prevent a bloodbath between the Protestants and the Catholics and deal with the political moves of megalomaniacal media baron Matt Drummond. And the success of these endeavours depends upon a football match which he cannot avoid at any cost. Even if it means cancelling a lunch meeting with the powerful Archbishop of Canterbury, head of the English church. If there ever was an award for the most bizzare plotline, Dead On Time would’ve won it hands down.

Not only is the writing ordinary, the characterisation is weak and underwhelming. What makes Dead On Time even more confusing is its overdose on motley characters. There’s Christine, the PM’s ex-flame and now his secretary, Terence Harcourt, White’s bête noir and Secretary of State for Europe, Andrew, a drug addict-turned-tabloid journalist always snooping around for political gossip and lewd photographs. A half-Indian, half-Malaysian woman, Asha Chan, also finds her way in as a cunning tax lawyer who fulfils Drummond’s sexual needs. And finally there’s Alan, Sarah’s ex-boyfriend who’s realised his feelings lay for Jo, his best friend from Cambridge. You can’t be blamed for getting distracted with such a rainbow cast of characters around.

However, the biggest flaw with Desai’s novel is its complete inability to grip the reader’s attention. One reason could be the novel’s backdrop – set in Britain – but then, that cannot be an excuse for using insipid writing, poor articulation and monologues on British political history. Far from being a political thriller, Dead On Time is an economist’s poor attempt at writing fiction. It lacks robustness, dark humour and adrenaline rush – key ingredients of a gripping political thriller.

Perhaps Desai should consider to doing what he does best – writing on economics and indulging in political commentary

(A slightly different review of the book can be found here)