Paranoia, packed with twists, turns, status details, and high-tech gobbledygook, moves with a John Grisham-like momentum. Finder's fifth novel has already been optioned for film, for good reason. Many reviewers were won over by the narrator's likeable voice, and empathized with his sweat-inducing ethical dilemmas. Yes, the novel is a bit clichéd, the characters are cardboard, and much of the action takes place behind a computer desk. But overall, it's an entertaining page-turner. Unless you're The Washington Post, which points to Paranoia as a sign of the coming publishing apocalypse in which only second-rate, banal thrillers make it to bookstore shelves. Let's hope it hasn't gone that far yet. Copyright © 2004 Phillips & Nelson Media, Inc.
Adam Cassidy, low-level employee of Wyatt Telecom, is bored. So he cracks the corporate accounts to give a nice old guy who works on the loading dock a retirement party to equal a board-of-directors bash. Threatened with embezzlement charges--the wingding cost $78,000--and worse by Wyatt's security chief, Adam starts to BS and so impresses Nick Wyatt, the company's SOB founder, that Wyatt makes an offer Adam can't refuse: be a spy at Wyatt's biggest competitor, Trion. It's a stretch becoming a credible young hotshot, but Adam gets well placed at Trion and soon becomes founder Jock Goddard's golden-boy advisor. All the while, he is moling through Trion's cyberguts to find out about a top-secret, earthshaking innovation that Wyatt wants to steal. In the upshot, nothing is what it seems, not even the babe, supposed to be deeply involved in Trion's hush-hush project, whom Adam gets involved with. Finder's last novel, High Crimes (1997), was filmed; he has sold this one to the movies, too, and, judging from its cute dialogue, cardboard characters, shopworn settings, hackneyed developments, and copious product placements, already written the screenplay. If this proves to be, as its hype hopes, "the first blockbuster of 2004," surely it'll be nothing but a doorstopper by 2005. Acquire with caution. Ray Olson
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Review
"The first jet-propelled thriller of 2004... Go along for the ride... twisting, stealthily plotted."
- Janet Maslin, The New York Times (1/15/04)
"This year's first contender for Page Turner of the Year is Joseph Finder's Paranoia... It's as if he has taken Sun Tzu's Art of War as a blueprint to concoct a terrific tale... It's riveting stuff... The corporate thriller just got an upgrade." USA Today (1/29/04)
"Masterfully told and thoroughly engrossing..." - People Magazine
"Here it is, readers, the perfect thriller for the post-Enron/Martha Stewart era."
- New Orleans Times-Picayune (1/25/04)
"Provides more chills than any ghoul with a chain saw." - Entertainment Weekly (A-)
This novel is the real deal: a thriller that actually will keep readers up way past their bedtimes. . . . Relentless suspense . . . A first-rate surprise ending packs a wallop . . . The most entertaining thriller of 2004.
- Publishers Weekly (Starred Review)
"Don't start this book at 8:00 p.m. or you'll be up all night. Finder's latest is a fun read with a hip narrator, an engaging story set in a world rarely seen in thrillers, and great suspense. Highly recommended."
- Ronnie H. Terpening, Univ. of Arizona, Tucson, Library Journal (Starred Review)
"One of those all-too-rare but absolutely unforgettable books that rewrites the rules for contemporary thrillers. Finder's loyal fans have long known what a terrific writer he is, but with Paranoia he has written what is destined to be a classic of suspense fiction. Paranoia is a knock-out - a fresh, original and compelling novel that is impossible to put down."
- Daniel Silva, author of The Confessor
"The real thing - a sleek, hip and fast-paced thriller that gets its hooks in you from the very first page. It's a terrific combination of nail-biting suspense, great characters with depth and real heart, and a fresh, original voice." - Lisa Scottoline, author of Dead Ringer
"Paranoia is an incredibly clever novel. I love Joseph Finder's writing, and this time, he surpasses himself with some of the best dialogue and characterizations I've read in a long time. If there's such a thing as an instant classic, this is it." - Nelson DeMille, author of Up Country
"Crisp, hard, funny, and smart." - Robert B. Parker, author of Back Story
"Oh yeah, this is good, really good. Sharp, wicked, funny, exciting. I've been saying for years that the best, most imaginative writing is being done in the genres of crime and suspense. Joseph Finder's Paranoia is proof positive."
- Andrew Klavan, author of True Crimes
"Combines a fresh voice, terrific characters, and high-octane suspense. Finder catapults himself into the front ranks of contemporary thriller writers."
- Harlan Coben, author of No Second Chance
"The archetype of the thriller in its contemporary form... The novel's great strength is its fetishistic attention to the idioms and buzzwords of the tech business... late in the book we discover how completely we have been fooled, and with some real escapist pleasure."
- New Yorker
"Provides more chills than any ghoul with a chain saw."
- Entertainment Weekly
"Edge of your seat action... You'll think twice about who's watching you at work!"
- Washington Post (1/18/04)
"People are not who or what they seem. ...The story is all about deception, and Finder has done his homework. ... "Paranoia" is a lot of flash and dazzle, but Finder also has a good ear for dialogue.... it is a lot of fun. And there's nothing wrong with that."
- Denver Post (1/18/04)
"...a fun read with a hip narrator, an engaging story set in a world rarely seen in thrillers... Highly recommended." (Ronnie H. Terpening, Univ. of Arizona, Tucson Library Journal)
"One of those all-too-rare but absolutely unforgettable books that rewrites the rules for contemporary thrillers...." (Daniel Silva, author of The Confessor)
"The real thing - a sleek, hip and fast-paced thriller that gets its hooks in you from the very first page." (Lisa Scottoline, author of Dead Ringer)
"Paranoia is an incredibly clever novel. I love Joseph Finder's writing, and this time, he surpasses himself with some of the best dialogue and characterizations I've read in a long time." (Nelson DeMille, author of Up Country)
"Crisp, hard, funny, and smart." (Robert B. Parker, author of Back Story)
"I've been saying for years that the best, most imaginative writing is being done in the genres of crime and suspense. Joseph Finder's Paranoia is proof positive." (Andrew Klavan, author of True Crimes)
"Combines a fresh voice, terrific characters, and high-octane suspense. Finder catapults himself into the front ranks of contemporary thriller writers." (Harlan Coben, author of No Second Chance)
a thriller that actually will keep readers up way past their bedtimes. . . . Relentless suspense . . . A first-rate surprise ending packs a wallop... (Publishers Weekly (Starred Review))
"The first jet-propelled thriller of 2004... Go along for the ride... twisting, stealthily plotted." (Janet Maslin The New York Times)
"Provides more chills than any ghoul with a chain saw." (Entertainment Weekly (A-))
"This year's first contender for Page Turner of the Year is Joseph Finder's Paranoia..." (USA Today)
"Masterfully told and thoroughly engrossing..." (People Magazine)
"Here it is, readers, the perfect thriller for the post-Enron/Martha Stewart era." (New Orleans Times-Picayune)
About the Author
Joseph Finder is the author of four previous novels including the New York Times bestseller High Crimes, the basis for the Morgan Freeman/Ashley Judd movie. Finder is a member of the Association of Former Intelligence Officers and has written extensively on espionage and international affairs for The New York Times, The Washington Post, and The New Republic. He lives in Boston, Massachusetts. Paranoia is currently in development as a major motion picture by Paramount.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Part One
*****
The Fix
Fix: A CIA term, of Cold War origin, that refers to a person who is to be compromised or blackmailed so that he will do the Agency's bidding.
-The Dictionary of Espionage
*****
Until the whole thing happened, I never believed the old line about how you should be careful what you wish for, because you might get it.
I believe it now.
I believe in all those cautionary proverbs now. I believe that pride goeth before a fall. I believe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, that misfortune seldom comes alone, that all that glitters isn't gold, that lies walk on short legs. Man, you name it. I believe it.
I could try to tell you that what started it all was an act of generosity, but that wouldn't be quite accurate. It was more like an act of stupidity. Call it a cry for help. Maybe more like a raised middle finger. Whatever, it was my bad. I half thought I'd get away with it, half expected to be fired. I've got to say, when I look back on how it all began, I marvel at what an arrogant prick I was. I'm not going to deny that I got what I deserved. It just wasn't what I expected-but who'd ever expect something like this?
All I did was make a couple of phone calls. Impersonated the VP for Corporate Events and called the fancy outside caterer that did all of Wyatt Telecom's parties. I told them to just make it exactly like the bash they'd done the week before for the Top Salesman of the Year award. (Of course, I had no idea how lavish that was.) I gave them all the right disbursement numbers, authorized the transfer of funds in advance. The whole thing was surprisingly easy.
The owner of Meals of Splendor told me he'd never done a function on a company loading dock, that it presented "decor challenges," but I knew he wasn't going to turn away a big check from Wyatt Telecom.
Somehow I doubt Meals of Splendor had ever done a retirement party for an assistant foreman either.
I think that's what really pissed Wyatt off. Paying for Jonesie's retirement party-a loading dock 0guy, for Christ's sake!-was a violation of the natural order. If instead I'd used the money as a down payment on a Ferrari 360 Modena convertible, Nicholas Wyatt might have almost understood. He would have recognized my greed as evidence of our shared humanity, like a weakness for booze, or "broads," as he called women.
If I'd known how it would all end up, would I have done it all over again? Hell, no.
Still, I have to say, it was pretty cool. I was into the fact that Jonesie's party was being paid for out of a fund earmarked for, among other things, an "offsite" for the CEO and his senior vice presidents at the Guanahani resort on the island of St. Barthelemy.
I also loved seeing the loading dock guys finally getting a taste of how the execs lived. Most of the guys and their wives, whose idea of a splurge was the Shrimp Feast at the Red Lobster or Ribs On The Barbie at Outback Steakhouse, didn't know what to make of some of the weird food, the osetra caviar and saddle of veal Provencal, but they devoured the filet of beef en croute, the rack of lamb, the roasted lobster with ravioli. The ice sculptures were a big hit. The Dom Perignon flowed, though not as fast as the Budweiser. (This I called right, since I used to hang out on the loading dock on Friday afternoons, smoking, when someone, usually Jonesie or Jimmy Connolly, the foreman, brought in an Igloo of cold ones to celebrate the end of another week.)
Jonesie, an old guy with one of those weathered, hangdog faces that make people like him instantly, was lit the whole night. His wife of forty-two years, Esther, at first seemed standoffish, but she turned out to be an amazing dancer. I'd hired an excellent Jamaican reggae group, and everyone got into it, even the guys you'd never expect to dance.
This was after the big tech meltdown, of course, and companies everywhere were laying people off and instituting "frugality" policies, meaning you had to pay for the lousy coffee, and no more free Cokes in the break room, and like that. Jonesie was slated to just stop work one Friday, spend a few hours at HR signing forms, and go home for the rest of his life, no party, no nothing. Meanwhile, the Wyatt Telecom E-staff was planning to head down to St. Bart's in their Learjets, boink their wives or girlfriends in their private villas, slather coconut oil on their love handles, and discuss company-wide frugality policies over obscene buffet breakfasts of papayas and hummingbird tongues. Jonesie and his friends didn't really question too closely who was paying for it all. But it did give me some kind of twisted secret pleasure.
Until around one-thirty in the morning, when the sound of electric guitars and the screams of a couple of the younger guys, blotto out of their minds, must have attracted the curiosity of a security guard, a fairly new hire (the pay's lousy, turnover is unbelievable) who didn't know any of us and wasn't inclined to cut anyone any slack.
He was a pudgy guy with a flushed, sort of Porky Pig face, barely thirty. He just gripped his walkie-talkie as if it were a Glock and said, "What the hell?"
And my life as I knew it was over.
Copyright 2004 by Joseph Finder
