‘What a commotion!’
The Queens of Kaboom
by Martin Butler
Cambridge: Pegasus Publishers, 2025
$26.99 / 9781836710257
Reviewed by Brett Josef Grubisic
*
If the grandfathers of the British spy novel are Ian Fleming and David John Moore Cornwell (who published as John le Carré), Vancouver author Martin Butler definitely shows a family resemblance to Fleming in The Queens of Kaboom, his debut novel. Early in this lighthearted (if longwinded) thriller, in fact, there’s a shoot-out aboard two double-decker busses in London. The top deck of the bus driven by the government agents neatly detaches, slides to the street, and blocks the villains who are in pursuit. All that’s missing is Q nodding in appreciation of Q Branch’s ingenuity.
Further, situated within the decades of films based on or inspired by Fleming’s Bond books, which range from sombre (Skyfall) to preposterous (Moonraker), Kaboom clearly favours silliness. The Queens of Kaboom isn’t an exact match to a sub-class of spy movie in the ‘60s—action-comedies such as Modesty Blaise, Our Man Flint, The Silencers, and Carry On Spying—but it might appeal to fans of that short-lived genre.
Viewed another way, The Queens of Kaboom is a kind of cozy spy-thriller. Similar to cozy mysteries, with their small town owners of bakeries, antique shops, and bookshops who also solve crimes, the overall atmosphere of Butler’s novel is comforting, untroubled, and safely insulated from the real world. There’s no swearing (“Blimey!” doesn’t count), little violence, and angst is rarer than hen’s teeth. Though a threat is mentioned, it’s about a credible as a Chihuahua. In spite of a Cold War playing field that’s distinctly post-Bay of Pigs, the novel’s tone isn’t remotely gritty or hopeless. It’s buoyant, almost ebullient—the ‘60s, in that window of The Beatles with their wholesome mop-top ‘dos, Mary Quant dresses, The Benny Hill Show, the downtown of Petula Clark (rather than, say, The Velvet Underground), and Elvis Presley’s Blue Hawaii.
The novel’s premise is straightforward. Queen Elizabeth instructs the Prime Minister to reactivate WI-5 (a women’s Intelligence group active during WWII, then supposedly disbanded) because there’s a mole in the service. Working with the radical, fascistic Fleur de Lys Crime Syndicate, the mole has begun to compromise British security. What’s more, the latest intel suggests the syndicate has plans to sabotage the World Cup in Wembley Stadium. (Whether the author intended it or not, that low-stakes target reminded me of Dr. Evil in Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery, who threatens world leaders with a nuclear warhead detonation unless they pay the ransom of… one million dollars.)
Turns out, the Fleur de Lys Crime Syndicate, with its seven-member inner circle, is suspected of being bankrolled by Eighth Wonder Film Company, which has earned money by the bucketful with the Dynamite McQueen series, whose titular spy—mostly recently on screen in Dynamite McQueen and the Queens of Kaboom—dutifully saves the world, time and again, from nefarious organizations.
As the agents of WI-5 leave their London HQ (beneath the V and A Museum), they’re set for a country manor that’s also a shooting location for the latest Dynamite McQueen adventure. There, a showdown seems inevitable.
As much as I enjoyed Butler alternative (UK spy agency) history, his novel showcases a few notable fumbles. It’s far too long, for one. The meagreness of the plot cannot comfortably stretch to 300+ pages. The comedy is sporadic, at best. There’s no tension whatsoever, and even a comedic spy thriller needs some of that. The dialogue runs for pages at a time and tends to focus on either lengthy exposition or what the characters are making or eating for breakfast. Those campy characters have memorable names (Mrs. Vesta Currie, Hesketh Van Hydethorpe, Loveday MacGuffin, Suzette Crepaldi) but they’re flat to the point of being indistinguishable from one another.
The net effect accomplishes two unfortunate goals at once: the novel often feels like an off-Broadway preview of an excessively voluble drawing room comedy; and for many pages, even chapters, Butler makes it very easy for readers to forget that the already negligible threat—the Fleur de Lys Syndicate’s plot to sabotage the 1966 World Cup Final game—even exists.
On the final page of The Queens of Kaboom a character promises to tell “the story of the original Queens of Kaboom,” in the 1930s. For a second novel the idea holds promise. As for me, a reader whose opinion Butler might consider, I’d prefer more le Carré and less Benny Hill, and more grit, higher stakes, and less meal preparation. Fleshed-out characters and a plot worthy of them: that wouldn’t hurt either.
*
Brett Josef Grubisic assigns, edits, and posts fiction, poetry, and children’s lit reviews for BCR; occasionally, he contributes reviews as well. [He’s written about recent books by Hannah Beach and Maggie Hutchings, Zsuzsi Gartner (ed.), Jennifer Cooper, Caroline Adderson, Sunny Dhillon, Wanda John-Kehewin, Ryan O’Dowd, Michael V. Smith, David Bouchard, Alice Turski, Louise Sidley, K.J. Denny (ed.), Sonali Zohra, Carrie Anne Vanderhoop, Kristen Pendreigh, Sam Wiebe, Maureen Young, Daniel Anctil, and Adam Welch for BCR.]
*
The British Columbia Review
Interim Editors: Trevor Marc Hughes (nonfiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction and poetry)
Publisher: Richard Mackie
Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an on-line book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.
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