The Yarn Spinner’s Last Bow

There is a rare breed of authors whose passing makes us pause, look at our bookshelf and run a finger over an old favourite. When I learnt that Jeffrey Archer had died at 86, I did just that. I found myself thinking less about the politician, the public figure or even the controversies, and more about the storyteller who could make me say, “Just one more chapter.”

As someone who has read virtually all of Archer’s books, former Hindustan Lever senior executive and voracious reader Parimal Kumar, in an informal chat, perhaps captures the sentiment best: “Whether First Among Equals, A Matter of Honour, As the Crow Flies or The Prison Diaries - Jeffrey Archer taught me that success comes from determination, setbacks are temporary and character matters more than circumstances. His stories entertained me, but their lessons stayed with me long after I turned the final page.”

My own introduction to Archer came through Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less and Kane and Abel. The former, his debut, was an ingenious tale of four men determined to recover exactly what they had lost from a conman. The second was much larger in scale: two men from vastly different beginnings, bound together by ambition, wealth, rivalry and fate. Both possessed the Archer magic. They made the reader hungry for what happened next.

Page Turners

Archer understood that storytelling did not require complicated language. It required curiosity. His prose was clear, his chapters moved swiftly, his dialogue carried the plot and his revelations arrived just when the reader thought everything had been figured out.

He knew how to keep curiosity alive until the very last line. He also knew something many writers occasionally forget: a reader does not owe an author another page. The author has to earn it. And Archer earned it repeatedly.

His fictional world was populated by people obsessed with ambition, money, power, status, love, revenge, loyalty and redemption. They carried memories, insecurities and ambitions.

Kane and Abel remains especially memorable for me because its central rivalry is really a study of circumstance. One man is born into privilege; the other battles adversity. Yet both become fiercely ambitious. Their lives suggest that success is rarely the product of talent alone.

There is also an interesting Indian connection to Archer’s storytelling. Kane and Abel inspired the Hindi film Khudgarz, starring Jeetendra and Shatrughan Sinha which in turn, was remade in Tamil as Rajinikanth’s 1992 blockbuster Annamalai. The journey from an English novel to Hindi cinema and then to a Rajinikanth film says something about the universality of Archer’s themes.

Beyond the Books

Archer’s own life could almost have been written by Archer himself. He entered Parliament at 29, rose through the ranks of the Conservative Party, was elevated to the House of Lords and later pursued the ambition of becoming Mayor of London. His political career, however, was interrupted by scandal and ultimately by his conviction for perjury and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. He was sentenced to four years in prison in 2001 and released in 2003.

A tribute should neither erase that chapter nor allow it to swallow everything else. What fascinates me is what followed. Archer returned to writing. Even prison became material for A Prison Diary, turning an intensely difficult chapter of his life into another act of storytelling.

He was also an athlete, politician, playwright, public figure, auctioneer and philanthropist. Perhaps the most revealing thread running through his life was reinvention.

From the financial struggles that inspired Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less emerged a writer who would go on to become one of the world’s bestselling authors. His titles have sold more than 300 million copies in more than 100 countries and over 47 languages.

And remarkably, he kept writing.  There is something quietly inspiring about an 86-year-old remaining a working writer. Archer died just before the publication of Adam & Eve, his final novel. Reports said he died at home between writing sessions.

It was almost an Archerian ending: unexpected, perfectly timed and leaving the reader with one final question. What remains when an author dies?

The books, the characters, the arguments over which novel was best. And somewhere, perhaps in a railway compartment or a bedroom on a quiet afternoon in India, someone will pick up Kane and Abel for the first time.

(The writer is a retired banker and author. He can be reached at krs1957@hotmail.com. Views are personal)