Book Review


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The Accomplice, by Joseph Kanon

I really wasn’t sure what to expect from this book, although as is often the case, the cover drew me in initially, with its grainy monochrome image [and the now almost ubiquitous shortcut of using one or more characters walking away from the viewer, to simplify the design process], and the supporting information under the author’s name, that he is the “bestselling author of Leaving Berlin”; also, the author’s bio informs us that, among his other works [some or all of which have won “the Edgar Award”: nope!] he wrote The Good German, which made me think of John le Carré, but it’s not one of his. This latter book, incidentally, has been made into a film, starring George Clooney & Cate Blanchett, although Kanon didn’t supply the screenplay; the film was given a lousy review in The Guardian, but it includes this sentence, which makes no sense to me [although I can’t be bothered to get to the bottom of it!]: “The Good German is culpably feeble and detached, especially considering that the original was released in 1942, and conceived far earlier:…” Kanon’s book was published in 2001, according to Wikipedia, [never knowingly incorrect?], so I wonder if the review was confused, having compared the film to “the kind of 1940s movie we know and love”: whatever, as previously stated… heigh ho, no such problem with this book.

The book is set in 1962, a febrile period in itself and, just for once [although, to be fair, this isn’t le Carré: Kanon is American], despite opening in Hamburg, no mention is made of East Germany and/or Communist machinations [normally associated with Berlin, the popular east-west interface, of course]; neither do our lovable moptops from the ‘pool get an honourable mention, which is a somewhat surprising omission, given that they performed in various clubs in that busy port of Hamburg from August 1960 to December 1962, according to this Wikipedia article: presumably, this local colour must have been seen as an unnecessary distraction from the narrative. Aaron Wiley is visiting his elderly uncle Max, a Nazi-hunter, albeit not in the same league as Simon Wiesenthal, about whom Max is somewhat dismissive, seeing him as a publicity-seeker: Max is more methodical, preferring to work his way through dusty files & archives to achieve his results. He is trying to convince Aaron to join him, despite the latter having a solid but also unexciting desk job with the CIA at home in America. A chance sighting of an old enemy, while the two of them are drinking coffee outdoors, is such a shock to Max, that he suffers a heart attack, but he is able to tell Aaron that, although the man he saw is by all supposedly reliable accounts already dead, Max is in no doubt whatsoever that he was not mistaken, so it would be the crowning glory to his career if this fugitive was brought to justice.

Unfortunately, Max dies, so after much soul-searching, Aaron decides to continue Max’s work, but although it will be unofficial, as it is a personal matter, one of his local colleagues is able to give him limited assistance; also, he hooks up with a local news photographer who scents a very good story. It transpires that the fugitive, Otto Schramm, has a daughter, and Aaron establishes a relationship with her, to get to her father but, inevitably, Aaron falls for the woman. I can’t really go any further than this with the story, but there are a few unexpected twists in the narrative, before the dénouement, which is somewhat bitter-sweet. Overall, this is quite a good story: one which is very firmly set in its timeframe, because much later, and none of the original perpetrators would be left alive. The paperback version I read was published in 2020 by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd., ISBN 978-1-4711-6268-8.

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.