Review: The Chain

The Chain by Adrian McKinty
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Adrian McKinty is a really talented writer, a master of intelligent plots and dialogue that is both snappy and realistic, who can keep the reader on the edge of their seat even as they marvel at his seemingly effortless, poetic prose. His Michael Forsythe trilogy and Sean Duffy series have been critically acclaimed. Several of his novels have been shortlisted for major awards, ‘Rain Dogs’ (2016) winning an Edgar. That McKinty is not better known is surprising; that he had to take work as an Uber driver to make ends meet is astounding. ‘The Chain’ will change all that.
When Rachel Klein answers her phone to Unknown Caller, she becomes part of The Chain. The caller tells her that her daughter, Kylie, has been kidnapped and, to secure her release, Rachel must pay a ransom, abduct a hostage of her own, and successfully convince her victim’s loved ones to become kidnappers themselves. If she fails, her daughter dies. If she goes to the authorities, her daughter dies. Over the next few days Rachel’s life will be turned upside down. Her love for her daughter, her fear for Kylie’s life, will cause her to commit acts she thought unimaginable, to become a criminal, a kidnapper.
With ‘The Chain’ Adrian McKinty has written a novel that is deliberately commercial, intended to appeal to a wide audience, particularly an American audience. And that is understandable; he deserves a wider readership and the success that brings. That he has been able to do so without dumbing down - retaining his love of language, discussing Existentialism, writing beautiful, flowing, prose - is astonishing. There is a passage at the start of Chapter 40 which perfectly illustrates McKinty’s talent. It reads like a poem, yet propels the plot forward, creates unbearable tension and is the equal of anything you will read in any ‘literary’ novel this year.

Sunday, 11:59 p.m.
She merges with the traffic.
The highway hums. The highway sings. The highway luminesces.
It is an adder moving south.
Diesel and gasoline.
Water and light.
Sodium filament and neon.
Interstate 95 at midnight. America's spinal cord, splicing lifelines and destinies and unrelated narratives.
The highway drifts. The highway dreams. The highway examines itself.
All those threads of fate weaving together on this cold midnight.
Towns and exits gliding south, shutting down other possibilities, other paths. Peabody. Newton. Norwood.
The Google map making its own zodiac.
Pawtucket.
Providence.
The Brown University exit. Lovecraft country. An old coach road to East Providence. Big houses. Even bigger houses.
Maple Avenue. Bluff Street. Narragansett Avenue.
“Here,” Mike says.
"Is this it?"
"Yeah.”

‘The Chain’ has been championed by Don Winslow, Ian Rankin, Stephen King and many others. It should be a huge bestseller, to have a blockbuster movie adaptation. But more, it should be the conduit through which McKinty’s previous works are introduced to a wider readership. Adrian McKinty, Sean Duffy and Michael Forsythe deserve nothing less.

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