I have always regarded James Sallis as one of the most skilled writers in the US in any genre. Despite the darkness and the sometimes excessive violence of his latest noir thrillers, Sallis's ability to say much in few words and to convey tension without being melodramatic is awe-inspiring. His dialogue, usually terse, says all that needs to be said, and his ability to create perfect images in few words is unparalleled. "Minimalism" takes on new meaning in his hands.
His novel Drive, recently made into a hit film starring Ryan Gosling, precedes Driven, and both are short novels which lack the fully developed characters one finds in Sallis's other novels. Drive, the story of a man who works as a stunt driver by day and as the driver of getaway cars by night, is full of violence, and the body count in the book and film is extremely high, some of the deaths coming at the hands of Driver himself as payback for egregious betrayals. At the end of the novel and film, Driver gets into his car and drives, seriously wounded.
Driven begins six years later. Driver has been keeping a low profile under the pseudonym of Paul West in Phoenix, and he has been successful in avoiding trouble - and in falling in love with Elsa. The novel starts with a bang, however. On page one, Driver and Elsa are attacked on a Saturday morning, and though Driver manages to disable one attacker, the second one fatally stabs Elsa before Driver can take care of him. He has no idea who the attackers are or why he was selected for attack, and even more attacks follow, but as a friend tells him, "Those you seek are wolves. Wolves do not wish to be found, they are themselves the hunters...They survive, they thrive, on their cunning." Ultimately, the book's body count equals that of Drive.
Driven is a peculiar book, one that feels unfinished to me. The back cover (and the book description here on Amazon) sports a sentence which I regarded initially as an almost fatal spoiler: "Driven tells how [Driver], done with killing, becomes the one who goes down `at 3 a.m. on a clear, cool morning in a Tijuana bar.' " Yet no such thing occurs within the action of this novel. That misleading quotation refers to a screenplay that Driver's friend Manny wrote years ago, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with this plot! The novel, less than one hundred fifty pages long, with large type and wide margins, also feels a bit like an outline, rather than the compressed but fully developed novel which Sallis is known for. The ending of this novel suggests that there might yet be another episode in the life of Driver, the third novel in a possible trilogy. Those who have not read Drive or seen the film will want to do so before reading this continuation of Driver's story. And those who have never had the pleasure of reading Sallis at all may want to start with The Killer is Dying, one of Sallis's best books. Mary Whipple