Richard Flanagan's new novel (released in Australia in December 2006) is about terrorism. Not the kind that involves suicide bombings and religious fervour; the kind that involves mass paranoia and the abuse of power. The second kind is the more insidious.

The unknown terrorist of the title is Gina Davies, a young woman from the suburbs, pretty much alone in the world and focused entirely on achieving material dreams. She's a stripper and pole dancer, a pill-popper and, on the whole, rather a shallow person. Not the kind of character you'd normally feel for as a reader. Yet Flanagan succeeds in making us sympathise with her completely, to feel outrage and pity for the monumental injustice she suffers at the hands of the authorities, the media and the society she inhabits.

A chance encounter and a one-night stand with a suspected terrorist (who, as it turns out, probably isn't a terrorist after all) transforms the rather naive Gina into public enemy number one. Frightened, confused and mistrustful of authority, she becomes a fugitive. Fuelled by hysterical media coverage, Gina is hunted down as a dangerous home-grown terrorist. The ending is not happy.

Certainly, The Unknown Terrorist is emotionally gripping. As we follow Gina's mental and physical unravelling, it's very hard to remain detached. It's hard because it's all so absurd. Surely no sane society could put two and two together and get five in such a disastrous, unjust way.

Of course, it's a highly political novel, and as such, its purpose is to arouse, to question, to jolt. It succeeds handsomely in this regard. It's also guilty of being melodramatic at times, and some strands of the storyline are a little too contrived. However, judging a political novel purely on its technical merit would be to miss the point completely. Flanagan has set out to make a powerful statement and has succeeded.

I hope lots of people read it and talk about it. I hope someone makes a film of it. It's not an uplifting book by any means - it's pessimistic and downright depressing, in fact. But it's an important book for our times, such as they are.

Just what is a "terrorist"? How does one identify such a person? How many terrorist threats are valid and how many contrivances? Richard Flanagan examines the logic behind the terrorist designation so easily bandied about by governments and a subservient media. He accomplishes this through a narrative with many unexpected twists and compelling nuances. Far more than the thriller this book might seem from its title, Flanagan has given us a glaring social statement. It's one we must all give our attention.

Flanagan's message is conveyed by Gina Davies, pole dancer in Sydney's inner city. Well depicted by the author, Gina - a name few know her by - has many identities. Her manager has promoted her beauty and skills under a variety of pseudonyms. How these appellations reach and influence the public is but one of Flanagan's less subtle nuances. Spending a night with a man who rescued her friend's son from Bondi Beach's treacherous surf, Gina - known here as "Doll" is dismayed to learn Tariq is a terrorist - a terrorist suspect, anyway. Worse, she's been tabbed as his partner. Television journalist Richard Cody uses Doll to save his job by turning her into "the unknown terrorist". He urges the Australian public to fear her and the authorities to capture her. Doll's reaction is to flee or hide instead of confronting her accusers. The forces arrayed against her seem too formidable to counter directly. Before long her every move conveys the image of a hooked fish. No manner of twists and turns will shake the hook. Indeed, every dodge and leap only seems to set the barb more firmly.

Flanagan's cast of characters is an indication of his writing skills. Each portrayal is true to life - any embellishment would detract from the tale. The characters are the story's threads, laid down individually and seemingly randomly at the beginning. As their actions form the narrative plot, those "people threads" begin to draw together. Interactions bring unsuspected coherence as the account takes form. As if this story wasn't timely enough, the anguish of Sydney's populace at coming to grips with the idea of a "home-grown" terrorist strikes yet another chord in light of the London bombings of 2005. Could this be repeated in Australia? Or elsewhere?

Doll's attempts to evade the authorities only seem to tighten the noose of their quest to find her. As she dodges and slips from place to place, we're given her background and the lives of those who seek her. This might seem a heavy burden for readers, but Flanagan keeps his characters constrained. He limits his backgrounds to what's pertinent to this story. Since it is the characters building the plot, instead of vice versa, Flanagan's technique proves a credit to his skills. Outlandish as some of the story developments might seem, nothing here is implausible. In today's world, how could they be otherwise? [stephen a. haines - Ottawa, Canada]

This blaring novel is interesting enough to finish, but be prepared to groan "oh, come ON" more than once. In it you will learn that Australia (and by association, the west) is materialistic, that there are sleazy television journalists, and that people go crazy with fear when a perceived terrorist attack occurs. Surprised by any of this? Didn't think so.

The main character, known as The Doll, is a pole dancer is a Sydney club. There is not any particular reason for this to be her profession, except to show the lack of moral grounding and give author Flanagan the chance to talk about her anatomy. The Doll is working at this bar to save money to buy a really nice apartment, which she will furnish with name-brand items. She meets a nice man named Tariq, has really hot sex with him, and discovers the next day that he--and by extension, she--is under suspicion for a series of explosions in Sydney. The Doll goes on The Run, and not being terribly smart or imaginative, has a hard time of it. You're sorry when she makes her final decision and takes action because you really wish she'd get some sort of break, but of course she won't. She's a stripper from a broken home is a crappy suburb who takes up with guys named Tariq. She is out of luck.

There must be some reason why the events of this novel are handled with all the subtlety of a smack on the chops with a wet mackerel. Flanagan has a reputation as a literary novelist; is he considering a genre change? Recommended for readers who are tired of nuance and aching for a tale as blatant as AM talk radio.