**Puts book down**
**Lights fictional cigarette**
**Takes long luxurious drag**
**Sits back and basks in the afterglow**

Because that's how satisfied this book left me feeling.

I had read Clavell's other novels earlier this year. But it took me several months to get around to reading Whirlwind, the last of his Asian Saga chronologically. I simply didn't want to take on the Iranian Revolution, especially having dealt with its ramifications over the span of several decades earlier in my life.

Yet this turned out to be a mistake. Whirlwind is one of his better works, superior to Noble House and Gai-Jin and on a par with Shogun and a notch below Tai-Pan. It's also a departure in both style and format from Clavell's other works. Shogun and Tai-Pan were Occidental forays into the exoticism of the Orient. And at the same time, they were hard edged philosophical works expounding upon Clavell's libertarianism. Gai-Jin was a somewhat disappointing sequel to those two. Meanwhile, Nobel House is pure soap opera, a 1400 page story, as one wag put it, of Ian Dunross getting a loan. Aside from these, there is Clavell's first published book in the series, King Rat, which stands apart as a work of serious literature.

Whirlwind is different from all the above. Its epic scope is grander; its story more multifaceted; its genre, an historical political intrigue, something new as well. All of it weaving in six separate stories. In fact, Whirlwind could be said to contain six interrelated separate novels brought together under one overarching drama. Too, this is Clavell's only published novel that is contemporaneous to the events it described--Clavell having undertaken its writing in the immediate aftermath of the Iranian Revolution.

What of Whirlwind itself? As usual with Clavell, the story is compelling, an addicting read. Clavell is a master of the "and then" moment which most successful popular authors must have. No purple prose, here. Just raw, pithy descriptions served on a platter of adventure and mystery. There is a little romance as well, although that is by far the weakest element of the book.

And the most interesting figure of novel? Perhaps the mullah Hussain, whose ambiguous thoughts carry us through the last few pages. A threat or a promise? Both? How odd, finally, to have the chronological story of the Struans end on a mountainside in northwestern Iran. Leaving the reader to deal with chaos breaking out back in the home berth of the saga, Hong Kong and the Far East. Would that Clavell had had the opportunity to tell us more about the Noble House. What would he have made of his precious China in the year 2018?

Outstanding story of an unseen side of the Iran war.

Too long. Not as good as his other books. The plot was uninteresting and a little boring.

Not as great as its predecessor but still a good read.

Джеймс Клавел е от онези отдавна умрели мъже, за които със сигурност щях да се омъжа, ако все още бяха живи. Изключителен писател, невероятен ум, страхотно въображение... Безкрайно любим мой автор, белязал ме за цял живот още преди повече от 15 години, когато за пръв път прочетох негов роман (а сега имам всичките).

As an adolescent I enjoyed some of Clavell’s earlier books, but this is a mess. There’s no single protagonist, and the point of view changes too frequently for sustained interest. Among the cliches are the foreigner who’s studied the Koran and outmanoeuvres the locals thanks to his superior knowledge of historic customs, and the beautiful young Iranian women who can’t resist middle-aged foreigners. In terms of style, for some reason, several key events are mentioned indirectly and only described in flashback dozens of pages later. And, from the halfway point, the plot is driven by the helicopter company trying to get its aircraft out of Iran: but why should we care, as long as the minor characters keep getting beaten, whipped, shot, tortured, mutilated, decapitated and immolated?

I’ve been to Iran once, about 25 years after the revolution, and, on the book’s positive side, the description of the environment is convincing, down to some small touches. For example, when one of the expats is accosted by a militia, it’s mentioned in passing that two of the young men are holding hands. They’re not openly gay, of course: this is something I’ve seen elsewhere in the Middle East. Occasionally a character even reflects on something more abstract than his family troubles or how to make it through the next day, as when one of them stops to wonder which of his four languages he’s been thinking in. Overall, though, the author over-reached himself this time.