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A Dangerous Man by Anne Brooke
This gripping psychological thriller opens in contemporary London with first-person narrator Michael Jones, a handsome 24 year-old artist. Immediately, you wonder if the book's title might refer to him. Though Michael often seems confused and vulnerable, this impression only grows stronger as you read onwards.
Michael is a drifter. For six months now, he has shared a flat with a couple, Joe and Paul. Joe owns an art gallery, and travels on business. In his absence, thuggish Paul demands sex from Michael. In return, he covers part of Michael's rent. Therefore Paul thinks he's paying cash for Michael and can treat him like a whore. But Michael holds to a fine distinction: he's not a rent-boy unless actual cash is placed in his hand. As he says on page 4, "… it didn't count unless you held the notes in your fist."
Whoa. Right there you want to examine the unsettling facts that you've just absorbed. One, Michael doesn't like the name "Mikey" because it reminds him of home. Two, he feels it's not worth moving on because each new flat is a worse place. Three, of all possible jobs to do for spare cash, he chooses prostitution. Why does Michael submit to Paul rather than knock him down or at least tell him to get lost? Obviously Michael is a complicated puzzle. The driving force behind the narrative is finding out what makes him tick.
You may, however, be too intrigued to wonder for long and – like me here at Obsidian Bookshelf – race on to the next scene. Michael meets Joe at the gallery. He still cherishes dwindling hope that Joe might choose to represent his surrealistic pencil and charcoal sketches. However, Joe confirms that he prefers paintings in a more conservative style. Even before Joe gets the words out, Michael's mood plummets alarmingly. He imagines Joe and Paul laughing at him behind his back. He thinks that a knife in the gut would be preferable than rejection.
But Joe has good news. He's recommended Michael for a job: a prestigious firm wants some edgy, modern drawings to display in their posh suite of offices. Michael's mood soars! He catches the bus to his job interview. Along the way, he thinks with odd pride of some of his sexual encounters with paying customers. His thoughts drift to his drawings and we learn that he loves still-life compositions: something about the textures of objects intrigues him.
When Michael arrives at MacMillan's Reinsurance firm, his exuberance subsides into nervousness. The luxurious surroundings and disapproving receptionist intimidate him. But then he meets Jack Hutchinson whom he must impress to get the job. Immediately he is overcome by ... Immediately he is overcome by lust and maybe even love at first sight. Jack is perhaps ten years older than Michael and incredibly handsome. His voice is low and husky and (as Michael thinks on page 17) "… a thousand notches above mine on the social scale."
Poor Michael doesn't even know if the man is gay. He tries to pull himself together and do his best in the interview even though he experiences another crippling mood-swing into crushing self-doubt. Jack remains noncommittal but polite.
Michael returns to his shabby flat, his fragile self-esteem crumbling. Paul makes some snotty remarks, and Joe chimes in with a misguided attempt at critical advice. It's a toxic combination that drives Michael from the flat. He ends up at the Two Ravens pub, looking for a paying customer with whom to have sex.
You realize that Michael needs to be desired, even in such a sordid way, to counter his deep sense of unworthiness. Anyone will do, even an aging queen like Frank who owns the Two Ravens and pours the drinks, occasionally helping Michael hook up with paying customers. Frank seems to have a thing for Michael and joins him in the men's restroom for a quick sexual encounter. Afterwards, Frank remarks without rancor that he knows he probably won't ever get another chance to have sex with Michael.
By now, if you're like me, you're deeply curious about Michael and juggling possible diagnoses. Bipolar disorder? Borderline personality disorder?
At the same time, you can't help but hope he catches a break. Poor kid! Obviously he draws in order to get "into the zone" and escape the crushing reality of his unstable existence. He seems to be struggling with major psychological issues, and yet he has a lot of promise.
Good people such as Lee-Anne (the gorgeous receptionist at Joe's gallery) go out of their way to help him. Relatively good people like Frank take risks to protect him. Michael may see things in a confusing and often bleak way, but he is no slacker. Rather, he's absolutely desperate to achieve success as an artist, and this also fuels the increasingly suspenseful narrative.
Neediness and desperation send Michael back to pursue first the job, and then Jack himself. He orbits Jack like a stalker, sitting outside the MacMillan firm all day in hopes of glimpsing him. He fills his sketchbooks with impressions of how Jack might look naked.
As with Lee-Anne and Frank, Jack can't resist Michael's considerable charm and vulnerable appeal. Soon Michael Soon Michael becomes a kept man, tucked away in Jack's wealthy house. He turns the spare bedroom into a studio and can pursue his art to his heart's content.
But will Michael's heart ever be content? Not when Paul is still sneaking around, threatening him. Not when Jack's family with their intimidating accents and society manners regard him with suspicion.
And most all, not when Michael decides he must have his own art gallery in which to display his unconventional art. He petitions Jack for the money. Jack, in a misguided attempt to deal with Michael's emotional blackmail and mood swings, insists that Michael prove his commitment by raising some of the money himself. Very reasonable. Except that Michael only knows one way to make money.
A Dangerous Man proceeds at a suspenseful pace, peeling off the layers of Michael's psyche. How far will Michael go to escape his demons? What has happened to him to make him what he is? (The answer is revealed in a shattering two-page flashback near the end.)
What makes A Dangerous Man so striking is the fact that the first-person narrator's view of himself is so limited and distorted. Michael sometimes wallows in self-loathing; most times, he suppresses all introspection. Therefore he can't accurately explain to us what is wrong with him, nor can the author just tell us as with a third-person narration. Instead, she must hint through Michael's actions how damaged he really is.
In less skilled hands, Michael might have come off as so unappealing you couldn't read about him. But here, he is a three-dimensional character: warped and yet someone for whom you feel curiosity and sympathy. Not many authors have both the insight and subtle touch to bring this off. In this way, A Dangerous Man reminds me of Joanne Harris's Edgar-nominated mystery, Gentlemen and Players, and here at ObsidianBookshelf.com I consider that high praise. In every other way, A Dangerous Man is a true original.
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