There are few writers of detective fiction more decorated than Steve Hamilton.   His CV boasts a Shamus, a Gumshoe and an Edgar to name but a few, and the high praise which adorns the dust jacket for The Lock Artist reads like a who’s who of the thriller genre.  This ensures that even those unfamiliar with Hamilton’s highly successful Alex McKnight series will be aware of the calibre of author they’re dealing with before a single page of The Lock Artist is turned.

The Lock Artist is Hamilton’s ninth book, and his second standalone piece.  It follows a decade in the life of Mike, a traumatised but gifted young man rendered mute by an appalling tragedy in his youth.  Pitied by wider society but scorned and taunted by his peers, Mike’s loneliness provides the perfect motivation for him to dedicate his free time to the study of locks, and more specifically, how to open them.  This is, as he describes it, an “unforgivable gift,” and despite his innocent intentions, one that will lead him into untold trouble, from high school pranks gone awry and on to coercion into organised crime.
The story joins Mike after he has lost the power of speech, and thus he spends the entire book in silence, communicating with others only through makeshift sign language, hastily scrawled notes and simple gestures.  Mike’s silence is a tool that Hamilton wields with formidable skill.  Unable to articulate his thoughts to other characters, the reader becomes Mike’s only true confidante, and in turn shares profoundly in his sense of alienation.  As the tale goes on, the tragedies both minor and major that befall Mike elicit increasing levels of sympathy.  Hamilton has a sublime ability to foster emotion; he is nothing less than a Paganini of the heart strings.

This is not to say that Mike is a mere abused victim of a cruel world.  He is far smarter than that.  While the narrative sees him fall foul of numerous cynical exploitations of his gift, Mike is careful to remind the reader at every juncture that he is no mere patsy.  Each time his fortunes take a negative turn, Mike reminds the reader how he could have engineered the situation differently.  He is deeply self-aware and ever-ready to accept his share of the blame for his own desperate circumstances.  These are character traits that make him a rare and admirable protagonist.

While there is intense humanity in The Lock Artist, there is also an abundance of gripping drama.  Ultimately, as a safe-cracker Mike plays a leading role in several high-stakes heists, in which Hamilton raises the pressure high and doesn’t let up for a second.  The Lock Artist creates several perfect storms of tension; hurling a character of Mike’s qualities into such terrifying situations makes for a heady dramatic brew.

The Lock Artist then, is a very rare thing indeed for it’s genre.  Crime fiction is considered by some as the preserve of the bloodthirsty, evoking a limited range of emotions, usually fear, often intrigue, and ultimately, in the Anglo-Saxon tradition at least, satisfaction, as the bad guy gets his just desserts and the good guys sleep the sleep of the righteous.  The Lock Artist brilliantly gives the lie to such assertions.  It is an achingly beautiful book, passionate and deeply moving.  While sparing none of the elements of standard crime fare, it adds far more, transcending the pigeon-hole of the genre superbly.  Yes, few writers are more decorated than Steve Hamilton, and fewer still could be more deserving of his success.

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