Book Review

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Jeeves and the Leap of Faith, by Ben Schott

I have to confess, with [I feel quite justified in saying] only a small degree of shame, that I have never in my 67 years [to the best of my knowledge, anyway] previously read a Jeeves & Wooster book by the original, universally revered author, Pelham Grenville [P.G.] Wodehouse, so I’m not able to make a comparison with this “Homage” from author Ben Schott [although I draw a very firm line at “An Homage” for specific grammatical reasons: if it had been described as “An Hommage”, from the original French, I would not have quibbled; whereas the H in the English version, Homage, should be pronounced, requiring A as an indefinite article rather than An; but that’s just my pedantry – don’t get me started on “An historical …”]. Having sounded that note of discord, I do want to praise, in advance of the story itself, albeit somewhat arsa versa [to borrow from the following], the copious chapter notes at the end of the book which, despite being unusual for a fictional narrative, do provide very useful explanatory background, as well as a layer of legitimacy which I can only guess at, given my initial observation.

From the obviously German origin of the name of the author, about whom I know nothing, it is no great surprise to learn that, among his other non-Wodehousian publications is “Schottenfreude — a vital compendium of new German words for the human condition.” Apparently, this is “his second novel, following the triumphantly received publication of Jeeves and the King of Clubs in 2018.” This story is [publishing hyperbole notwithstanding!] the “eagerly anticipated sequel” to the aforementioned, but the two stories are sufficiently independent for me to have enjoyed the latter without recourse to reference to the former. I was already aware, from my research for the biography of Wilfred Risdon, Black Shirt and Smoking Beagles, that Wodehouse had lampooned Oswald Mosley in several of his books written between 1938 & 1971, casting him in the character of Sir Roderick Spode, aka Lord Sidcup, self-styled Leader of The Saviours of Britain party, more commonly known as the Black Shorts, from the black “footer bags” the adherents were wont to sport as an essential element of their uniform: this was a masterstroke of deflating ridicule by “Plum” Wodehouse. In the text, reference is made to Sidcup’s forthcoming debate at the Cambridge Union, a direct parallel of Mosley’s 21 February 1933 debate against Clement Attlee, “That this House prefers Fascism to Socialism”: Attlee won the debate by 335 votes to 218.

The story itself is, no doubt [given my ignorance], suitably inconsequential, within the context of rich, over-privileged roués of the 1930s, although Wodehouse’s skill is evident, assuming Schott’s style is authentic, in his gentle contrast of the upper classes, with all their foibles, with Jeeves’s all-encompassing & ever-present mastery of any given situation; although, whether Jeeves could be described as working class is debatable; however, Bertie’s involvement with the British security services and, simultaneously, a very eligible and evidently reciprocally amorously interested young lady who is a member of that organisation, does seem to somewhat run counter to the customary perception [unless I am mistaken] of the character of Bertie Wooster, not least because he seems to avoid responsibility in most forms but, especially, matrimony with almost monotonous regularity: according to the notes, he has had “twenty-two near-Mrs”, which are helpfully catalogued by the author, according to year & publication, although “The precise number of Bertie’s engagements is hotly debated by Wodehouse scholars, and opinions differ.”

I hope readers will accept when I say that I can’t give an opinion on this book as an example of Wodehouse’s oeuvre, but as a story using Wodehouse’s characters & fictitious world, I would recommend it, because I enjoyed reading it, without feeling in any way patronised; I’m no better equipped to tackle The Times crossword, a fictitious example of which is given in the notes [and others are referred to in the narrative], however, than I was previously, despite Jeeves’s masterly explanations of the clues: they always seem so obvious, once explained. This hardback version that I read was published in 2020, by Hutchinson, London, ISBN 978-1-786-33193-9; it is also available in paperback, ISBN 978-1-786-33194-6.

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Launch Code, by Michael Ridpath

This novelist’s name is not one I have encountered before, but he has written eleven other novels, as well as five novels set in Iceland, during the writing of which he “fell in love” with that country: he now also publishes a blog called writinginice, from which a non-fiction book, Writing in Ice: A Crime Writer’s Guide to Iceland, has sprung. The bio on his website tells us that he was privately educated and worked first as a credit analyst, then a ‘junk bond’ trader, so it is unlikely that his experience could be categorised as the ‘school of hard knocks’, but nevertheless, he seems to have an impartial take on humanity’s character flaws: “Working in the City, I had come across some pretty dodgy characters … the shades of grey interested me.” This novel starts off as a thriller, time-shifting between what became known as the Cold War, specifically 1983-4, and the present day; it then morphs into a murder mystery, and quite a tense one at that.

Former Lieutenant William (Bill) Guth, USN, previously assistant weapons officer on the USS Alexander Hamilton, has made a home for himself and his five daughters in Norfolk, after being transferred to England by his American employer; unfortunately, his wife, Donna, died some years ago, but she still figures very strongly in his memory, and in this story, which is played out by the use of regular flashbacks. An incident occurs on board the nuclear missile carrying submarine which brings the world to the brink of nuclear war, but it was clearly averted, or else there would be no present day story to relate. As the narrative develops, details are released gradually as to what occurred on the sub, but only enough details to give the reader one version of the story, which is then changed as new information is released, of necessity in response to the death of a British researcher who is trying to discover the true extent of the danger the world faced, and how close to destruction it came.

The main character of Bill Guth is deliberately, but also cleverly, presented as being ambiguous in his motives, and for a while suspicion falls on his eldest daughter Alice, to the consternation of her loving, but increasingly concerned British husband, Toby; the security services of both countries are also in the mix, which adds another layer of intrigue to the story. I think this is a worthwhile effort, because it throws some light, albeit guesswork to some extent, on the procedures designed to prevent the accidental release of nuclear weapons, and the questionable value of them as a deterrent (all the more so, given Boris Johnson’s pig-headed determination to ill-advisedly increase the size of Britain’s nuclear ‘arsenal’), and the fairly obvious fact that the world has escaped destruction only because brave individuals on both ‘sides’ were prepared to risk their careers, and possibly also their lives, to overrule the automatic systems that were supposed to be foolproof; commendably, the Russians are portrayed as being no more belligerent, and just as fallible as the Americans, as the two quotes at the beginning of the book illustrate:

Never, perhaps, in the post-war decades was the situation in the world as explosive and hence more difficult and unfavourable as in the first half of the 1980s.


Mikhail Gorbachev, leader of the Soviet Union, 1986

We may have been at the brink of nuclear war and not even known it.


Robert Gates, Deputy Director of CIA and later Secretary of Defense

I will certainly look out for other books by this author, and look forward to reading them as & when I find them. This one is published in paperback by Corvus, London, 2020, ISBN 978-1-78649-701-7.

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An Officer and a Spy, by Robert Harris

This is a weighty tome, running to 608 pages and, ordinarily, I might be deterred by this, but seeing the name of Robert Harris on the cover was all the incentive I needed to convince me to read it, having read a few of his books before now. Also, I was curious to discover how well he would handle a real historical situation, although he is no stranger to setting fiction in different time periods; this book concerns l’Affaire Dreyfus, or The Dreyfus Case, and I had vague recollections of having to apply myself to it in History lessons at school but hitherto, I wouldn’t have been able to present a cogent synopsis of the events that transpired. Given that these events actually happened, Harris’s freedom to create a fictional narrative was necessarily somewhat constrained, but he tells the story from the point of view of a fellow army officer, Marie-Georges Picquart, previously professor of topography at the École Militaire, now deputy to the head of the Third Department of the War Ministry (Operations & Training), who soon after Dreyfus’s conviction becomes promoted to Head of the Second Department, the Statistical Section, otherwise known as Intelligence; this arrangement had been in operation since Napoleon’s time.

Before his public military degradation (an essential part of his punishment, involving the removal of all his regimental uniform decorations & the ceremonial breaking of his sabre, in front of the first military parade of the Paris garrison) Dreyfus allegedly confessed to the captain guarding him that he did indeed pass documents to the Germans, but Picquart decides this is unreliable, which is helpful for him, as he had just given a verbal report to the Minister of War that Dreyfus continued to protest his innocence at the parade, in contravention of normal custom. Alfred Dreyfus, captain of the 14th Artillery Regiment, certified General Staff Officer & probationer of the army’s General Staff, was found guilty of delivering to a foreign power or to its agents in Paris in 1894 a certain number of secret and confidential documents concerning national defence; he was a Jew from Mulhouse, which was in the disputed Alsace Lorraine territory, now part of Germany, following the humiliating defeat by Germany in the 1870 Franco-German war; he also spoke with a slight, but discernible German accent, which was another thing, in addition to being identifiably Jewish, which counted against him. Unfortunately, at that time, institutional anti-Semitism was casually accepted as an attitude by the majority of the population, including Picquart himself.

In addition to the humiliation of the military degradation, Dreyfus’s penalty also included discharge from the army and deportation to a fortified enclosure for life: this was Devil’s Island, 15km from the coast of the penal colony at Cayenne (French Guiana, on the north east coast of South America); the island was reopened especially for Dreyfus, although there were many who called for the death penalty for what they considered to be a heinous crime, particularly in that time of heightened tension between France & Germany. It was once Picquart became established in his position as head of the Second Department that his suspicion begins to grow that Dreyfus has, indeed, been falsely accused, and that a despicable miscarriage of justice has occurred, especially when he learns that secrets are still being passed to the Germans so, albeit somewhat unwillingly at first, he makes it his mission to discover the truth, even if that means that Dreyfus is innocent; unfortunately, in the course of his investigations, he encounters obfuscation, opposition, and outright hostility from his superiors, but also, which proves to be more dangerous, for his career and even, potentially, his life, from his own close colleagues. He suffers many tribulations, threats, and even murder attempts during the course of the narrative, but he proves to be strong enough to survive them all, and the help he receives from a few valued friends, and later associates, a few of whom are as illustrious as the author Victor Hugo, whose publication J’Accuse eventually proves to be powerfully influential, contributes to his eventual success.

This is not to spoil the plot: the story is known, and can easily be researched, but where Harris succeeds is in weaving a plausible narrative for the character of Picquart. Harris himself says at the beginning of the book:

None of the characters in the pages that follow, not even the most minor, is wholly fictional, and almost all of what occurs, at least in some form, actually happened in real life. Naturally, however, in order to turn history into a novel, I have been obliged to simplify, to cut out some figures entirely, to dramatise, and to invent many personal details. In particular, Georges Picquart never wrote a secret account of the Dreyfus affair; nor did he place it in a bank vault in Geneva with instructions that it should remain sealed until a century after his death. But a novelist can imagine otherwise.

Robert Harris

I can highly recommend this book, and I don’t think you need to be an aficionado of history to be able to appreciate it: it’s a thumping good story, including a criminal conspiracy (which never seem to go out of fashion!) and it’s always good to be able to read a story which has any sort of resolution, especially a positive one. The paperback I read was published in 2014 by Arrow Books, London [part of the Penguin Random House Group], ISBN 978-0-09958-088-1.

Book Review

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This is What Happened, by Mick Herron

Notwithstanding the inaccuracy of the strapline for this story, displayed at the bottom of the front cover; I appreciate that it is a common figure of speech: “some stories you can’t make up” – but unless this story purports to be true reportage, it obviously IS made up!; on the basis of the two previous books by this author which I have read in the Jackson Lamb [aka Slow Horses] series (you can read my review here), despite it not being one of those, I set out to read it with high hopes. It could probably more accurately be described as a novella, because at 241 pages, set in 13.75pt Bembo [a generous font anyway], it doesn’t take very long to power through.

It starts off in relatively familiar spy-trope territory, with the protagonist, “[t]wenty-six-year-old Maggie Barnes … someone you would never look at twice”, ostensibly undertaking a mission for her MI5 handler, Harvey Wells (I could suggest an attribution for this name, but that could easily spoil the plot!), in which she is required to surreptitiously insert a monitoring program outside office hours into the computer system of the London-based company, which is Chinese-owned, for which she works as a lowly post-room clerk: Harvey assures her that this action will be vital for the ongoing security of their country, to thwart what could be a disastrous potential cyber-attack by the Chinese government. The mission is successfully accomplished, albeit not without a hitch, being discovered by one of the company’s security guards, her evasion of which she is subsequently informed has resulted in the death of said employee.

Harvey handles this unfortunate dénouement by installing her in a safe house or, to be more precise, a safe basement flatlet with only small and obscured high-level living room windows, in an anonymous London terrace. Apparently, the other flats in the building are occupied, so she must not leave the accommodation for the foreseeable future, until Harvey deems it safe for her to return to some sort of normal life. Unfortunately, as the weeks turn into months, Harvey tells her that society is breaking down, despite her heroic action, thanks to the cunning intervention of the Chinese, which the British appear to have been powerless to resist. Naturally enough, she becomes increasingly institutionalised by this incarceration but, given that she has always been quite reserved and undemonstrative, she learns to accept her isolation, albeit not without occasional depression. Two years pass, and still there is no sign of an improvement in the world outside her obscured windows; eventually, she persuades Harvey to let her venture outside, albeit during the night, when there is little likelihood of encountering anyone threatening; nevertheless, she very quickly finds the experience frightening, and is mightily relieved once Harvey has hustled her back to her safe haven.

That is parts one & two of the book. Part three introduces us to Dickon Broom, whose library card Maggie discovered at the back of the wardrobe in her tiny bedroom: in her highly susceptible mental state, she fantasises that he was an agent who also had the need of the safe house at some previous time; she doesn’t share this with Harvey, though. In fact, he’s a freelance English teacher, although he is also able to teach politics (“Not to a very high level”) and GCSE Italian. He is looking for new challenges, after leaving his previous employment at a school for foreign students who want to learn English as a second language. Although he knows that his prowess with the opposite sex leaves a lot to be desired, he has recently met a woman called Sue, who is looking for her younger sister, who went missing two years ago. Coincidentally, Maggie is also estranged from her older sister, Meredith, but this she has also neglected to mention to Harvey.

This is as far as I can go without completely spoiling the plot, but suffice to say that the story doesn’t develop the way the initial setup would suggest. The ending is satisfying, without being easily predictable so, although it might not fit neatly into one of the standard fiction compartments, if you are happy to approach it without preconceptions, it is an enjoyable read or, at least, I found it so. It was published in Great Britain, 2018, by John Murray (Publishers), ISBN 978-1-47365-732-8 [hardback; other formats are available].

Book Review

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Our Kind of Traitor, by John le Carré

Many people hold le Carré’s work in very high regard; I consider myself to be one of those; so I was rather unsure, as I started reading this book, first published in 2010 and again in 2011 by Penguin Books, ISBN 978-0-241-96785-0 (2014), whether this might be one of his less successful books. It starts in Antigua with Peregrine (Perry) Makepiece and “Gail, his long-standing girlfriend” on holiday, booked after his father had died from “the same cancer that had carried of his mother two years earlier, leaving Perry in a state of modest affluence.” In the meantime, he had begun to question his direction in life, deciding to leave academia in Oxford and “qualify as a secondary-school teacher in one of his country’s most deprived areas.” Gail was also undecided as to whether her future should consist of marriage & babies and “give up the Bar…or should she continue to pursue her meteoric career in London?” So, “a holiday in Antigua looked like providing the ideal setting in which to do it.” Unfortunately, Perry, who is an excellent tennis player, makes the mistake of allowing himself to be cajoled into a match with “a muscular, stiff-backed, bald, brown-eyed Russian man of dignified bearing in his middle fifties called Dima.” Almost inevitably, given the author, his nationality means that he will have a story to tell that will be of interest to the security services back at (Perry’s) home.

The narrative develops quite slowly, hence my initial concern, but le Carré’s skill is in giving the characters space, in the combination of present-day & flashback, rather than rushing into a bullet-point checklist of narrative stages. Perry’s contacts are suitably interested in what he has to tell them about Dima and, perhaps somewhat predictably, I regret to say, the man running the operation (although not at the top of his chain of command) is an eccentric nonconformist maverick, by the name of Hector Meredith (think John Hurt); perhaps there’s only room in spy fiction for one Smiley? Perry & Gail are not entirely unwilling participants in the operation to exfiltrate Dima to England, but the main complication for the planners is that Dima has a large extended family, which he refuses to leave behind. The bulk of the action takes place in Switzerland, where Dima and his family are currently based, and both Perry & Gail go beyond the call of duty to assist the operation. Overall, it goes reasonably smoothly, as a result of the meticulous planning undertaken by Hector’s department; in fact, the main threat to the operation comes from the ‘suits’ back in England. I can’t say I was particularly rooting for the protagonist, Dima, given that he is an unpleasant example of the new breed of Russian criminal, but if only as a result of my rather pale patriotism, I was hoping that neither Perry nor Gail would come to any harm. The dénouement is something of an anticlimax, leading to the death of one of the main characters, but I will say no more to avoid spoiling the plot. We are left to draw our own conclusions as to the consequences which are not spelled out at the very end, which I always find rather frustrating, as I am a completist when it comes to stories! I’m glad to be able to say that I have read another book in le Carré’s canon, but I wouldn’t describe it as one of his best.

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White Silence, by Jodi Taylor

This book is described on the back cover as “a twisty supernatural thriller that will have you on the edge of your seat.”; I’m not in the habit of reading fiction about the supernatural. I have a compendium of Edgar Allen Poe stories, Tales of Mystery and Imagination, though I don’t know if I would ever be in the mood to read one but, that said, this book is actually a very good read and, whilst I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was literally on the edge of my seat (mostly recumbent, either in bed or on a settee), I did find the early part quite engaging, given that I was genuinely concerned for the main character, Elizabeth Cage. She grew up knowing that she was different: despite being able to look at someone and know things about them they don’t even know themselves, she says “I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I am.” She sees people’s auras which, because she’d never heard the term as a child, she called their colour; we are not told anything about her real parents, but she was adopted as a child, and her adoptive father is very patient with her, telling her with the benefit of age & experience that restraint is always better than just blurting out what she knows about people: “knowing things is all very well and good, but keeping them to yourself is better.” This is also brought home to her when she realises that people who might seem normal to everyone else can appear very threatening to her by the way their colour manifests itself.

After some awkward experiences at school, hence the paternal advice, she learns to become deliberately average, mediocre, so that she doesn’t attract attention. By her early twenties, when she is working for the local council in the records office, a repetitive job she relishes, she has lost both parents, but still lives in their house; after an incident with a public park ‘flasher’, who uses a cute puppy as a distraction for his targets (and she doesn’t initially see him as a threat which, apart from his aberrant behaviour, he isn’t: more of an annoyance), she meets her future husband, Ted, who is then a detective with the local police: he came to tell her that the flasher had been arrested. Ted seems very enamoured of Elizabeth, and seven months later, they marry, and move into Ted’s own house. Before too long in this new idyll, Ted surprises Elizabeth by telling her that he has been offered a job “in the private sector”: head of security at a private clinic “with a high security clearance”, run by a Doctor Sorensen, where “some pretty important people” sometimes stay.

Although Elizabeth is somewhat unsettled by this, she accepts Ted’s assertion that it will be a step up for him, so she doesn’t offer any opposition. Soon she meets the doctor at a summer open day at the clinic, but she is immediately on her guard: “his colour, a weak and weedy thing of insipid blue-white, suddenly flared up – like one of those geysers in a national park – and roared out towards me. Like a tidal wave of dirty milk.” During this first occasion, she also meets a character called Michael Jones, described by Ted as a colleague, but Elizabeth could see that he was “damaged … I suspected he’d suffered a loss, and very recently, too.”

She survives this first encounter, despite hearing a disembodied voice warning her to leave immediately and not come back, but five months later, she is unable to avoid being figuratively dragged by Ted to the clinic’s Christmas party. Despite the effect of Sorensen’s laugh being “rather like broken glass hitting a metal surface”, he behaves “impeccably”. Michael Jones is there again, this time claiming to be a patient, and he is evidently very drunk; so drunk, in fact, that with Elizabeth’s help, Ted decides to sneak him into an upstairs empty room in an area monitored by an employed nurse; this is achieved successfully. Other than that, no incidents occur to worry Elizabeth. Her domestic happiness thereafter was unfortunately short-lived, because soon an incident occurs that changes her world irrevocably. I don’t want to spoil the reader’s enjoyment by revealing any other details, other than that Michael Jones would play a large part in the rest of Elizabeth’s life as described in the book. This book is one of quite a few by this author, several of which appear to deal with the subject of time (always an incentive for me), and they are included in a series called The Chronicles of St Mary’s; some of these are short stories. This one is published in paperback by Accent Press Ltd, Cardiff, 2017, ISBN 978-1-78615-565-8, and if you like books with a supernatural element, I heartily recommend it.

Book Review


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London Rules, by Mick Herron

This book, published by John Murray (Publishers) in paperback in 2018, ISBN 978-1-47365-740-3, is the fifth and latest in a series of five spy thrillers that are presented in the flyleaf as “Jackson Lamb thrillers” and, inevitably, comparisons are made with Graham Greene and “the spycraft of le Carré”. This book follows closely on the heels of the previous story, Spook Street, which featured a character called David Cartwright, referred to privately, but fondly, by his grandson River as “the old bastard”, or OB for short. I could be mistaken, of course, but this choice of name, for the former, is very likely a tip of the hat to the author’s rôle model, John le Carré, real name David Cornwell of course, and recently deceased. At the end of the previous story, the OB is consigned to a rest home, as a result of his obvious dementia (which shouldn’t be any sort of plot spoiler, if you are able to read that story, as this condition is evident from the start of the book), but his grandson who, arguably, occupied the lead rôle in the narrative, also figures in the latest book, again as a member of what can only loosely be described as a team, known as the “slow horses” (a description not particularly difficult to fathom) working out of a secret service London backwater known as Slough House. Only having read these two stories, back-to-back courtesy of my gratifyingly efficient local library, I can’t include the other three in this assessment, but on the surface, these stories are not so much “Jackson Lamb thrillers” as “slow horses” thrillers, as they appear to dominate the action; however, this is possibly missing the point, that Lamb undoubtedly rules his roost, in his own sardonic, sarcastic, and frequently scatological way, and is experienced enough to know when to allow the operatives who have been foisted upon him, for a variety of reasons, to operate on their own initiative, but also to defend them, provided they don’t make the fatal error of crossing him. He also has a healthily pathological dislike of authority, and makes it his business to accumulate ‘dirt’ on any superior who might make the mistake of trying to compromise him.

It must be difficult to conceive of a completely original scenario for a spy story, but this one starts with a series of apparently unconnected incidents in England that fall into the category of terrorism, and a member of the department, Roderick Ho, known as Roddy, is allowing himself to be manipulated by his “girlfriend”, Kim, into helping her with certain computer-related tasks, mistakenly believing that she is infatuated with him (as, indeed, are all females with whom he comes in contact: in his own mind, of course). This is not known to his colleagues initially, for obvious reasons, but when an attempt is made on his life, and one of them is present, they start to take notice, and follow him, only narrowly preventing a second attempt. The terror incidents appear to have an amateurish quality about them, and this possibly explains why the murder of Roddy Ho by the same team also failed, although the presence of some of his colleagues did contribute to this. Before long, an explanation for the terror campaign is suggested by another of the team, a psychologically damaged young man by the name of J K Coe, who seems to be perpetually dressed in hoodie and jeans, and plugged into an iPod which isn’t necessarily playing any music. His previous activity in the service is known as “psycheval”, so it isn’t unduly surprising that he is a deep thinker who is very sparing with his verbal output. His hypothesis brings into contention two politicians, one more generic than the other; this is Zaffar Jaffrey, “outside the London mayor, … the highest-profile Muslim player in the country”, who is well-placed to win the position of Mayor in the West Midlands; the other is pretty obviously modelled, albeit with at least one significant difference, on Nigel Farage: “the showboating MP who orchestrated the Brexit vote”. His wife is the “tabloid columnist who’s crucifying Whelan in print”, Whelan being the relatively new First Desk of MI5 at Regent’s Park, Claude Whelan, who is also very conscious of the machinations of “his own deputy, who’s alert to his every stumble”, given that she regarded the position as hers, before being supplanted by Whelan. Dodie Gimball, the wife of the Brexiteer, has also been furnishing her husband with information with which to discredit Jaffrey, because in addition to his obvious bigotry, he suspects that, given this penchant for racial stereotypes, Jaffrey is too good to be true.

The dénouement of this latest story is not a great surprise, but it does tie up the loose ends neatly enough, and it isn’t quite as traumatic as the aforementioned previous story, if that is any sort of incentive for you to read it! These are eminently readable books, especially if you like spy thrillers, which can sometimes be too clever for their own good, and after reading only two of them, which dovetail nicely together, I have developed an affection for the variously damaged slow horses, who can occasionally be effective, in spite of Lamb’s contempt, which becomes more transparent as the narrative proceeds, but one explanation for this is that he doesn’t want them to think (let alone believe) that they are anywhere near as clever as he is, and perish the thought that he might actually respect any of them….. In a way, this makes Lamb the most difficult character to identify with, and certainly to like, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and it is comforting to know that, however badly any or all of the slow horses might foul up (which they do), Lamb will always be there to cover their backs (to ensure that his own back is covered in the process, of course), even though he will complain mightily and make their lives almost (but not quite) unbearable for a time. The mind boggles to think that this setup bears even a passing resemblance to a real section of the British secret service, so probably better to ignore that, and just enjoy these stories for what they are, very cleverly written fiction.