Irving Wallace knew how to spin a thriller. The R Document is no exception. A political drama wrapped in a legal nightmare, the book follows Attorney General Christopher Collins as he stumbles upon a secret plan that could rewrite the Constitution. The plan? Something called the R Document—designed to give the government absolute power in the name of national security. A gripping premise. A frighteningly relevant one.

Wallace was never subtle. His characters don’t sip tea and debate—they charge into rooms, make speeches, and dismantle democracy over lunch. Collins is an all-American hero, complete with ambition, morality, and the perfect amount of inner turmoil. The villains are larger than life, bureaucratic yet terrifying, much like the real world today. The book’s sense of urgency is relentless. One revelation follows another, dragging you along whether you like it or not.

There’s something about the way Wallace writes. He doesn’t waste time. He doesn’t pause to admire the scenery. He goes straight for the plot, and the plot never lets go. The pacing is breathless, which is both a strength and a weakness. On one hand, it makes for a fast, compelling read. On the other, it leaves little room for subtlety or depth. The characters, though engaging, don’t always have the complexity you might hope for. But then, that’s not why you read Wallace. You read him for the big ideas, the high stakes, the what-if scenarios that feel all too real.

The R Document is packed with those what-if moments. What if civil liberties could be suspended indefinitely? What if a single piece of legislation could turn a democracy into a dictatorship? What if the people in charge actually wanted that to happen? Questions that might have seemed hypothetical when the book was published. Not so much now.

That’s what makes the novel so unsettling. It was meant to be a cautionary tale, a thriller that played with extremes. But rereading it today, you can’t help but feel that Wallace was onto something. Governments consolidating power in the name of security? Check. Civil rights being eroded bit by bit? Check. The slow, insidious shift from democracy to something far more sinister? Check. It’s all here, dressed up as fiction but uncomfortably close to reality.

Of course, The R Document isn’t perfect. Wallace’s style is direct, sometimes to a fault. The dialogue can be a bit on the nose, with characters spelling out their motivations as if they’re in a courtroom drama. The romance subplot feels unnecessary, thrown in because, well, thrillers are supposed to have romance. And the ending, while satisfying, feels just a little too neat. You know you were going to get here, but when you’re actually there it can feel a little “hmmm”. But who cares? You started reading this book because you wanted to be entertained.

Yes, none of that takes away from the book’s impact. It’s a thriller with a purpose. It wants to entertain, but it also wants to make you think. And it does. Long after you’ve turned the last page, the questions linger. Could this really happen? Is it already happening? And if it is, what can be done?

It’s not Wallace’s best. The Seventh Secret and The Word are sharper, more complex. But The R Document is still a page-turner. And eerily, it has aged well. Too well. If you read it in the 70s, it was a conspiracy thriller. If you read it today, it feels like tomorrow’s newspaper. Or worse, today’s.

Not his finest, but unsettlingly prophetic. Worth reading.