US online interview about The Accident Man
07 September 2007
A Conversation with Tom Cain
1. You wrote The Accident Man under a pseudonym. Are you concerned about any possible repercussions in proposing such a controversial theory—even in fiction?
Well, the scenario that I came up with is entirely invented and I make no claim whatever to having uncovered the real truth about the events of 31 August 1997. It always, however, concerned me that I might, by some appalling fluke, have created a fiction that fingered the actual culprits. In which case, they might not feel to warmly towards me. And since they would, by definition, be people who were willing to commit murder …
Until recently, that was my only worry. But then I was informed by someone in the know that MI6 had bought several copies of the book. So now I’m thinking I may be under attack from my own nation’s security services. And I’m seriously considering a new career in, maybe, romantic novels, or comedy – something less risky, anyway!
2. Why did you choose “Cain,” the name of the first murderer in the Bible?
Well, I’d love to be able to come up with an answer that was rich in symbolism and multiple layers of meaning. And of course I’m aware of the Biblical reference. But the fact of the matter is, I chose my name the same way most authors, rock bands and strippers do – because I thought it sounded cool.
3. Besides Princess Diana’s death, what inspired you to write this novel?
Well, it wasn’t the fact that she died, so much as all the uncertainty around her death that I found interesting. I don’t know, any more than anyone else does, what really happened that night; whether it was an assassination, or just an accident. But what I do know is that millions of people around the world have wanted, and even needed to believe in the idea of a conspiracy. One of these, of course, is Mohammed al-Fayed, the father of Dodi, Diana’s companion. And another was Diana herself. She predicted, on tape, that she would die in a car-crash organized by Prince Charles. And, as I tend to remind people when they claim that it’s offensive even to contemplate writing a novel that presupposes that Diana was assassinated, nothing would have upset her, of all people, more than the idea that she perished in a meaningless, random accident.
On a technical level, the moment that really got me inspired to make the shift from just thinking about the idea of writing a book, to sitting down and working on it, was when I had the image of the assassin, standing at the end of the Alma Tunnel, waiting for that black Mercedes … and he was the hero of my book. It then took me the best part of two years to work out how to set up the story and the character of Samuel Carver so that he could commit this totally heinous act within the first forty pages of the book, and you, the reader, would already be sufficiently on his side that you root for him for the next 350 pages.
4. Without giving away anything that might reveal your identity, did you draw on anything in your own experience to create Carver’s identity? For example, did you serve in the Royal Marines?
I have to confess that although I was a military history buff as a kid; made model planes, tanks and figurines; fought wargames – all that good, geeky stuff! – my actual military experience or knowledge is precisely zip. So it was a challenge for me to create a character that I could, to some extent, identify with and understand. He had to be someone who was real to me, otherwise how could he ever be real to a reader?
My solution was to think about the elements in an assassin’s psychology that I could understand and for me that came down to the emotional detachment he would need, in order to do what he does. There is one autobiographical element in the story, where I describe Carver’s first days at boarding-school, aged eight, when he’s far from home and finds himself being woken up to do drill on the front lawn. Well, that was my first day, at that age. I was sent away because my father was a diplomat, and by the time I was nine, the rest of my family were living several thousand miles away from me and I was only seeing them for a couple of months a year. Under those circumstances you develop this incredibly tough emotional armor, which cuts you off from pain, loneliness and, in the end, the ability to feel pretty much anything at all. Of course, if you have half a brain, you realize that this is totally disastrous in terms of finding any kind of emotional fulfillment. So that’s why the thing I really empathize with in carver is his desperate longing to find a woman whom he can love, but also the difficulty he has in allowing himself to love and be loved. To me, that’s what makes Carver something other than an imitation James Bond. When he’s not doing his job, he’s no more smooth, assured or competent than any screwed up, thirtysomething guy. The only difference is, he knows a thousand ways to kill you …
5. You spent the first twenty-five years of your career as an investigative journalist. What are some of the more interesting stories you covered? How did your experiences inform your fiction writing?
Well, it’s true that I was a journalist who did a number of big investigative stories. For example, I spent years working on a book called Foul Play, about a match-fixing scandal in English Premier League soccer, which took me into all sorts of area, from Far Eastern gambling syndicates to Southern African game parks (two of the plotters wanted to buy one with their ill-gotten gains), and also taught me a lot about the way crooks think and operate. I did the first big report into the events leading up to the Hungerford Massacre of 1987, when a gunman called Michael Ryan went on the rampage in a small, peaceful market town in Southern England – the kind of crime we Brits tend to think only happens in the States. And that taught me about the psychology of a killer, and the desire and ability of the authorities to cover up embarrassing information (because there were many elements of the story which reflected very badly on local police). I also did a fascinating piece of investigation in Hollywood into the But for a great deal of my time, I’ve written regular magazine profiles and interviews. I’ve been privileged enough to go all over the world and meet an extraordinary number and variety of fascinating people, both famous and obscure. And that’s left me with a personal database of memories, notes, photographs, sense-impressions and experiences which is a wonderful resource when thinking about fictional places, people and situations.
6. Sir Perceval Wake is a fascinating character. Is he based on someone specific?
Not really … The idea for the Consortium, which he heads, came from a story I was told about a former British special forces officer who was approached to work for an un-named group of influential Britons who undertook work with which the government could not be associated but which, they believed, needed to be done. So then I just developed that idea and asked myself what kind of a man would head such an organization; what his motivations, and delusions might be; and where one might find his weak-spots.
7. Do you think Princess Diana would have continued to hold the public in thrall or would her popularity have faded along with her youth and beauty?
Funny you should mention that! I’ve just written an imaginary profile of Diana, for the London Daily Mail [see attached file – TC] assuming that she had survived the crash. That piece hinted at what I suspect would have happened, which is that she would have seriously destabilized the Royal Family; acted as a perennial lightning-rod for any dissatisfaction with or opposition to the Queen and the Prince of Wales; and supplied a rival centre of power and public interest which would have done irreparable harm to the Monarchy. In that respect, I agree with everything Percival wake says on the subject (as will become clear in the sequel, I quite enjoy giving villainous characters opinions which I secretly believe to be correct!).
On a personal note, I fear Diana would have found life becoming very difficult. She would have been trapped by her fame; in desperate need of a husband rich enough (and we’re talking billionaire status, here) to afford the levels of protection and privacy she would have needed; and tormented all the while by the deep unhappiness and insecurity that had cursed her since her parents’ divorce. By the time of her death, Diana was a profoundly isolated woman. Even her brother Charles – who so hypocritically claimed, at her funeral, that ‘we, your blood family’ would help raise her sons – had turned down her pleas to be allowed to live in a house on the Spencer family’s Althorp estate. The awful truth, I fear, is that Diana, like Monroe, JFK or Lennon, was preserved forever by her death at a point where her beauty and magnetism were undimmed. I wouldn’t wish an early death on anyone, but hers has paradoxically served to immortalize her.
8. You created an extraordinarily amoral world in The Accident Man. Is your opinion of human nature really so bleak?
Well, my wife always thinks I’m too gullible and willing to see the best in people, so I guess the answer is no! I truly believe that most people do what they believe to be best, most of the time. Most people love their kids, want the best for the world, and have no desire to harm their fellow-men.
BUT …
We are imperfect creatures, living in an imperfect world. And we are easily corrupted. Anyone who observes the world around us would surely be forced to acknowledge that people can be extraordinarily ruthless, self-serving and both amoral and immoral in the preservation of their power, position and wealth. We know that corporations, governments and individuals can do terrible things and then do even worse things trying to cover up their original crimes. This, of course, is good news for thriller-writers. We’d be out of business if the nice part of human nature won out all the time. And bad guys are more fun to write, read about, and then blow away.
So my personal take on The Accident Man is that it describes an appallingly compromised world, in which there are no obvious good guys and even the hero is a murderer. And yet, in the middle of all this bleakness, there are two human beings who are trying, however hopelessly, to love one another. As I was writing the book, it felt to me as if it was turning into a love-story. I mean, I hate to admit that because it might put off guys who are looking for lots of guns, blood and explosions. Well, they’re all in there. But so is the story of Carver and Alix … And just to pay tribute to Ian Fleming, that was always the key (in my mind) to the best James Bond books. In stories like Casino Royale, or On Her Majesty’s Secret Service there are real relationships, with genuine emotion – an emotion that the movies only tapped into, I think, with Daniel Craig. Without some level of true humanity, why would you care about the rest of it?
9. You’ve written an extraordinarily accomplished first novel. Who are some of your literary influences?
How very kind to say it’s accomplished. It sure didn’t feel that way during all the months when I was trying, and failing to get it right! As for influences, well, Fleming, as I’ve just suggested; Alistair MacLean, though that was more of a subconscious childhood memory than an active influence (looking back, I think it really comes out in the scenes when Carver’s crossing the English Channel in a 36-foot sailboat); Lee Child, though it took me a year to stop writing a poor pastiche of Jack Reacher and create something and someone of my own; Wilbur Smith, for the power of his narrative and his ability to write stories that speak to both sexes; Anthony Powell, an entirely different sort of author, but a fantastic analyst of human emotions, relationships and hunger for power … But really, the single most powerful influence on me was the TV series 24.
It wasn’t the character of Jack Bauer, or the operations of CTU, or even the scenarios that Jack has to confront that inspired me. It was the challenge that 24 throws down to any writer, which is, basically, ‘Match this.’ That series never lets up for a second. It’s always moving forwards, always double and triple-crossing the viewer, always making one hungry for more. I thought of all the pleasure and excitement I’ve had sitting down with those boxed DVD sets and watching one episode after another and thought, ‘Right, how can I make the experience of reading my book as gripping and exciting as that?’
The single greatest compliment I’ve had is from all the people who’ve described reading The Accident Man in bed, longing to turn out the light, knowing that the numbers on the clock are flipping over … but being unable to stop turning the pages and going through the chapters. If people are going to spend hard-earned money and valuable time on my book, I want them to get value for every cent and every second.
10. Do you plan to continue to write fiction? Are you working on another Carver novel now?
Yes, and yes … but gee it’s difficult! Lots of people have told me that the second book is the hardest (second album too, apparently). You pour your heart and soul into your first big work. You fill it full of a lifetime’s worth of ideas. And then someone says, ‘Great, now do it again!’
So that’s where I am right now, trying to do it again. And this time I’ve got to do it without having the death of the world’s most famous woman handed to me on a plate. Plus, as anyone who finishes the Accident Man will discover, I’ve inadvertently given myself a whole new Carver-based problem to overcome. Right now, I’m a bit like a novelistic equivalent of Francis Ford Coppola, out in the jungle, filming scene after scene of Apocalypse Now, with no finished script, the whole crew going mad, and no idea what’s going to emerge at the end of it.
Coppola ended up with a masterpiece, but that might be asking a bit much. A functioning thriller would do me fine!