Nothing Lasts Forever by Roderick Thorp, 188 pages
The time is the late '70s. Joe Leland is a retired New York City detective and World War II vet visiting his big-shot corporate daughter in LA. The Christmas party at his daughter's office, high in the skyscraper headquarters of the Klaxon corporation, is even more festive this year, thanks to a massive deal with the Chilean dictatorship that has just been finalized. Leland isn't terribly impressed by the deal, but he is impressed by the murderous German terrorists, led by the psychopathic Anton Gruber, who expertly seize control of the building and take the partygoers, including Leland's daughter and grandchildren, hostage. Slipping away in the confusion, he wages a one man war against the terrorists, using elevator shafts and air conditioning ducts to stay one step ahead of his enemies, his only uncertain allies the police outside. The same police now laying plans for a frontal assault on the terrorists, plans that put Leland and his loved ones in the middle of the crossfire.
Nothing Lasts Forever is, of course, the novel that became Die Hard. Obviously, many things changed in the adaptation - most obviously some of the names, the age of the protagonist, turning the terrorists into thieves, and switching an estranged daughter for an estranged wife. Much is the same - the friendly police sergeant (although here a much younger man), the prickish police captain, a terrorist enraged when his brother is the first to die, extended conversations between hero and villain over the radio. One of the greatest differences, however, is that the novel is entirely focused on Leland. Scenes in the film featuring secondary characters greatly aided their development, but in the novel that is all missing. This is most obvious in the case of Anton, who despite being a smart and canny adversary lacks the dangerous charm of Hans, even setting aside that he doesn't have the advantage of being portrayed by Alan Rickman. This also adds to the second great difference, the '70s grimness of the novel, which becomes more a test of Leland's endurance than of his inventiveness. Nor is all his suffering physical, for not only do the novel's more progressive terrorists include a number of women, but events will prove that everyone, including Leland himself, is deeply morally compromised.
On its own, Roderick Thorp's novel is a fine diversion with vague aspirations to be something more. The connection to Die Hard adds an entire other level of interest, providing material for hours of reflections on storytelling choices, the differences between novels and film, shifting social mores, the excellence of Alan Rickman, and the patience of long-suffering wives.
