A good political journalist is not necessarily a good political thriller writer

I was really looking forward to reading this as I have a great respect for Peston as a journalist. His protagonist Gil Peck is also a journalist, for a thinly-disguised Financial Times, and it is the run-up to the election of 1997. I remember the actual election very well and yes, I was still up for Portillo! I have no objection to writers depicting politics as a cesspit-it’s what many others believe anyway. However I expect a thriller writer to deliver thrills and make me want to carry on reading. Unfortunately this book does not do that. As Peston acknowledges in an afterword, he is aware that the skills that make a good political journalist do not necessarily make a good political thriller writer. Maybe this awareness will bear fruit in future books. In this one however the tedium of over-explanation outweighs everything else. Gil Peck, amoral, solipsistic and vain is sometimes throws away his advantages by his desire to show everyone that he is in the know. Peston has the same desire. It’s a shame as we might have already deduced this from his reputation. However his expositions on the workings of the political system and his large and confusing cast of characters get in the way of any real excitement for the reader. I’m afraid I couldn’t care less who killed Clare and why. I did persevere but found the ending unlikely and underwhelming. The pedant in me was also horrified that no editor had spotted the continual misuse of discrete for discreet. Cannot imagine that that was a mistake that Peston or indeed Peck would have made.