Books: “Most Secret” by Nevil Shute

A WWII story of the sea, intrigue and revenge. This particular novel of Shute’s is one I categorize as “masculine fiction.” If feminist writing is of a woman’s sentiment (of being a woman) and of the woman’s body, the maleist writer offers neither. Rather than expound their souls, these literary characters of the masculine fiction genre are given a circumstance and are defined by their reaction. As Fitzgerald said so economically, “character is plot, plot is character.” The reader only assumes wordless brooding, as the silent man nurses a tall glass of whiskey, his path made clear the moment the clinking of ice against crystal seizes. I suppose in this soul-update-#twitter world, the silently contemplative gentleman seems dated. Even to use the adjective “masculine” is starting to imply “toxic,” which is a sad outcome. Masculinity is the overcoming (not suppression) of emotion with integrity at its goal; the ying to femininity which is the allowance (not indulgence) of emotion with the goal of compassion.  It is, therefore, important to be both.

Shute’s narrator has the omnipresent vantage point as the naval officer the semi-suicidal mission reports to. It is, therefore, the narrator’s duty to know all of the ship Genevieve’s crew, and he briefs us readers on their personal history in a non-fluff yet sympathetic manner. For the most part, the background stories suffice as the modus operandi, although it is a bit wanting when compared to Shute’s other great works such as A Town Like Alice or On the Beach, where the author writes of a plot more akin to his own chivalrous character. Shute seems uneasy of the vengeance which drives Most Secret and contrives symbolic justification to quiet his own conscience. Put it this way, Ian Fleming’s 007 never consulted the Hague convention to see if a weapon was legal or sought out a priest to bless the “justice by fire.” The real guarded secret then, is the moral conundrum of those who strive to balance their integrity with their conduct – in life, in writing.

“ There was a short silence. ‘What will the people do?’ asked Simon. ‘Will they give us up?’

The old man said angrily: ‘This is not a Vichy rabble. This is a town of seamen, a man’s town. ”

“ The girl was bewildered and a little confused. She felt that this young officer was behaving very oddly; she knew him to be a callous and insensitive man, full of enthusiasm for the most devilish things. It simple was not in the picture that he should have any feelings for the gentle things in life.”