It has been 10 years since Terry Hayes wrote I Am Pilgrim. The 624-page yarn, which pitted a crack spy against an Islamic terrorist aiming to unleash smallpox on the world, was a blockbuster hit. For many it was the thriller of the decade. A follow-up was announced at the time, but since then, amid rumors of re-writes, the publication date has been repeatedly postponed. At last, however, here is The Year of the Locust.
One could perhaps read the title as a nod to the insect’s habit of burying itself for years before it emerges. So has Hayes used the time well? Has he, in the words of Harry Carpenter about Muhammad Ali, “won the title back at 32”? The answer is yes, but it’s a points verdict rather than a knockout. For much of what is another very chunky book there is no sign of ring rust. That’s in part because the plot is almost a clone of its compellingly conceived predecessor — crack spy, jihadi villain, bioweapon — albeit it is not a straight sequel.
