If you ever want to experience Harold Robbins the
writer—and not the redundant storyteller he later became—start with his debut
novel NEVER LOVE A STRANGER. This one’s
a sure bet. His best even. Some may argue otherwise, preferring THE
CARPETBAGGERS or A STONE FOR DANNY FISHER, but I still believe he gave all he’s
got for NEVER LOVE A STRANGER. Mind
you, he did hit home runs with his early subsequent novels but in my heart of
hearts nothing can beat this reviewed title. Whether it’s in his strong
narrative, likable protagonist, fine storytelling, or sexual situations—which,
BTW, is a lot tamer on account of the novel being published in 1948—there is
something important going on in between those pages, and I’m not talking about
Robbins’ fresh gutter mind. No, what I’m getting at is that Robbins is actually
a talented bloke if you scratch beneath surface, and in insight NEVER LOVE A STRANGER is the perfect
example of that.
The plot, told mostly in first-person flashbacks in a
span of over twenty years, is all about Frankie Kane who, we come to learn
early on, is an orphan who knows his way around. He’s what you call street smart,
a thing I always wish I could have been, but this isn’t about moi so let’s just move on. After
numerous dangerous situations that would be too long for me to describe Kane
eventually becomes one of the biggest mobsters of his time—but at what price? From
rotten deals to violent confrontations of all sorts, Kane manages to find
himself and eventually becomes the person he’s meant to be. Nothing new, I
admit, but handled with care, and, dare I say it, class. Yes, Robbins takes out
his Sunday clothes for this one, delivering a riveting tale of a hoodlum whose ups
and downs make for a fine character study. And of course, this character deserves
everything that comes to him because, as you all know, without his despair
there wouldn’t be a novel such as this one. In return, the reader can’t help getting
caught up into the swirl of things and before he knows it the end is near and a
few chapters more would have been more than welcome. Yes, this is the kind of a
novel NEVER LOVE A STRANGER is. 
Mind you, one has to be ready for Robbins’ wicked ways.
His world is far from being apple pie. Every female character is used as an
excuse to heighten the importance of the male counterpart—when she is not
caught solely in the sheets. And of course those women are always fully stacked.
I’m sure the Me Too movement would have had a field day with these publications
had it ever existed back in the day. But if you’re ready to overlook this tiny little
flaw (if you can call using women a tiny little flaw), then I’m positive you’ll
find this novel as compelling as anything Robbins has ever written.
There’s a 1958 B&W movie adaptation starring John
Drew Barrymore (son of stage and screen legend John Barrymore and Drew’s dad) and
Steve McQueen (in his first film). I own it on VHS. I shall review it one of
these days. Until then, I’d suggest that you get busy with NEVER LOVE A STRANGER. If you’re like me, you’ll find the rewards
worth your while. At least I hope you will.
You can still get NEVER LOVE A STRANGER wherever digital books are sold.
Until next post—Martin
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