This 2008 mystery/thriller set in the racing world has renewed my opinion of John Francome as a singularly worthy successor to the (sadly) late Dick Francis. However, given Francome's now similarly considerable output should he really be continually belittled by comparison to his famed fellow jockey? Does former race trainer Jenny Pitman always suffer the same comparisons? (Note: JF does get 3 stars on Fantastic Fiction's listings to Francis's stellar 5.)
In the past I have started several other books of Francome's and had to abandon a couple early, because somehow I was not pulled as strongly as with this story. I found I couldn't put this one down, despite the potential for getting the rather larger number of characters confused, but then practically each protagonist harbours seemingly small guilty secrets, each of which contribute to the perhaps inevitable tragic conclusion. The 3rd person narrative rather than the more usual 1st person view, helpfully reveals individual motives. The plot twist at the end was well devised and all the stray threads neatly and infuriatingly well tied up - if I'd placed a Tote bet on the killer - one I'd pretty well sussed half-way but for no particularly logical reason - I'd have won nicely, no doubt at long odds.
Therefore, this proved a much more accomplished mystery, fluent, meaty, and better written all 'round, with the characters far more than the cardboard cut-outs which I found particularly grating in his 8th title OUTSIDER (1993) that I recently ploughed through. The arrogance of the supposedly Kentucky-born narrator in OUTSIDER, jockey Jake Felton, who neither sounded nor acted American, the storyline situations and his actions frankly at times suspended my belief.
However, if you look, the official authors credited for FINAL BREATH were Francome and one Mike Bailey, a jobbing editor, which tends to suggest that JF has the luxury of either ghost-writing help or lots of editorial input (as his first 4 novels also are clearly labelled as being co-authored with one James McGregor) so can it be that after 20-odd books John has not yet found his own individual way? Still, he proves that even parallel to, and after, Dick Francis there is still immense mileage available in the potential skulduggery associated with the racing fraternity. So, ride on, John, whether solo or in tandem.