Thailand's Klong Prem prison has become a synonym for Asian hell-holes, a reputation not reduced by the large numbers of jail tourists who schedule a visit in their itineraries to their imprisoned countrymen and women between shopping at the floating market and swilling Singha beer in a Patpong girlie bar.
David McMillan was held in the `Bangkok Hilton' awaiting trial on drug charges in the mid-`90s for almost two years. If his trial had ended the way most local trials do, he might still be there today, as sentences range between thirty and ninety-nine years. Before his trial ended, McMillan escaped, becoming the first Westerner to successfully break out of Klong Prem, a feat no one has yet repeated.
ESCAPE is not the usual, crying, my-life-in-hell story. Firstly, the author makes no excuses for his life as a drug smuggler. Emotional responses to the good, the bad and the ugly in the 12,000-strong prison complex are reported through the reactions of the fifty or more fellow inmates who McMillan describes as he relentlessly pursues his search for the perfect escape plan.
Secondly, the circumstances of how McMillan came to be arrested in Chinatown and why so many agencies are set against him are revealed in the style of a thriller. Despite the author appearing often cold and ruthless, this reader could not help being alongside him as both accomplices and plans fall away.
Supporting characters are surprisingly varied for the closed environment: not only Eddie the junkie-courier from Switzerland, Chang the Taiwanese cook, Kelvin the sorrowful Hawaiian, Rick the conniving English bar owner, but also Germans pretending to be barons, Nigerians actually princes, young clubbers, jaded Americans, mysterious Chinese and a mad anarchist-scientist serving fifty years' for being the translator on a Canadian drug deal. As well, a motley collection of languishing Australians, surreally presented at a real embassy Christmas party inside the prison grounds.
Throughout escape plans A-to-Z (including a comic attempt to brazen through the corridors dressed as UN medics pretending to evacuate prisoners during an epidemic), McMillan is supported or hindered by those closest to him, including his girlfriend, a part-time jazz singer from New Zealand.
Despite the hard-boiled waterfront-reporter voice of the author, I couldn't help wondering if the true McMillan began as one of the near-suicides in the remand section, quickly passed aside in the early chapters, before changing into the one who got away. My copy was published in Singapore where the death penalty still applies; appropriate for a book that never laments, apologises or preaches, yet tells more in fewer words about people facing death or oblivion than books twice as thick.