Cyclops

© 1986 by Clive Cussler


When I was a kid, oh, about twelve years old, tail-end of the 70s, my family rented a bungalow down in Lavalette, one town away from famous Seaside Heights at the Jersey shore. I had a great time, as has been documented elsewhere on this blog. One thing that stands out is that I read the Ainulindalë. Another is that I read Clive Cussler’s Raise the Titanic.

Let me state flat out right now that I loved Raise the Titanic. As a pre-teen, I probably didn’t understand half of it (such as the geopolitical espionage angle of the story), but I sure as heck loved the engineering feat of raising the Titanic.

I read it again sometime in the mid-90s. Still held up. On that basis, I picked up Cussler’s Atlantis, sometime around the turn of the century. Liked that one, too. So much so it was one of those rare books I take and throw at a friend with the imperative: “Read this!” I even turned my stepfather on to Cussler and, by extension, Dirk Pitt, who we’ll get to in a moment.

So now I just finished my third Clive Cussler potboiler, Cyclops. Why, you ask, if I enjoy the man’s work as much as I’ve claimed to in the preceding paragraphs, why have I only read three books in thirty-plus years? Good question: dunno. Other stuff got in the way, perhaps. School, relationships, music, work, science fiction, etc. Point is, whenever I pick up one of this guy’s books, I enjoy the read.

And what a fast read it was: nearly five hundred pages in five days. Were I to read at that pace every book I opened! Pages turned and I couldn’t wait to see what happened next. Now, I realized then and realize now that the book won’t make a difference one way or another in my life, and I will probably forget the mechanics of the plot in a few weeks. That’s not why you read Clive Cussler. You read it because it does what it’s supposed to do – pull you into its roller-coaster world and not release you until it’s all over.

Cyclops takes its name from the US naval ship that sunk under mysterious circumstances in … the Bermuda Triangle! Hey, I just read about that a week or so ago (maybe that’s what influenced me to pluck this book from my Unread Shelf). Seriously, read about the ship; it’s all there: leadership hubris, an overloaded vessel, a perfect storm, and – a complete vanishing.

Anyway, Cussler’s take is all that, plus more. The Cyclops is transporting famed treasure (think along the lines of Vasco da Gama, Ponce de Leon, and / or a feminine version of an early-seventies ELO album title) when it goes to the bottom. A billionaire industrialist with a serious weakness for blimps disappears searching for it, and this starts a chain of events that somehow involves the intersection of a secret moonbase, the space shuttle “Gettysburg” (great name, by the way), a very nasty bad guy and his torture room on an island off the coast of Cuba, and the assassination of Fidel and Raul Castro from a highly unlikey source.

(Thought experiment, which I hope many in our government have thought about: how would you destroy a city nuclear-bomb-wise, without using a nuclear bomb? Don’t worry – Mr. Cussler has thought it out, though I have to pat myself on the back for figuring it out ahead of time … though I had help living in a post-Timothy McVeigh world.)

Cussler’s hero, and the hero of nearly two dozen of his books, is Dirk Pitt, a 20th and 21st century adventurer that Haggard and Doyle might be proud of. He can throw a punch as well as rig an engine, read a map, or spew out ancient maritime legend. McGuyverish in a pinch – a talent in demand every couple of chapters – Pitt is single-minded in his goal, whatever it may be. He works ostensibly for the government agency NUMA, the National Underwater and Marine Agency, but spends most of his time saving the President’s – and / or the world’s – behind in various ways, depending on each novel’s theme. A colorful cast of characters always follow him, including his boss / mentor / father figure Admiral Sandecker and buddy Al Giordano. And he beds just as many chicks as that guy across the pond, some dude by the name of Bond, I think.

I liked it. It’s good to read a book like this every now and then, especially as you’re trying to slog through hefty nonfiction tomes or “classic” novels you feel may improve or change you as a human being. It’s escapism, but it’s good escapism.

Grade: A.


[Note: I have another Cussler book that been sitting on deck for nearly a year now, involving the fabled lost Library of Alexandria. Now that seems like a great read – Maybe I’ll get to it before the new year …]