Spies and misdemeanours: le Carré, Boyd, Hill, Beirne

Time for a survey of recent reading.

John le Carré Silverview (Viking, 2021) This was passed on to me by Mrs TD: le Carré’s final published novel before his death two years ago. It’s a complicated story involving an ex city trader turned (non-bookish) bookshop owner who gets tangled up with spies, double agents and conspiracies. It’s entertaining as far as this kind of thing goes. The title is the name of the house where a shady former MI5 agent lives, imitating the name of Nietzsche’s house, of all people. I’d always thought the rural county of Suffolk was a peaceful, serene place to live (my parents and sister lived or still live there), but according to this novel it seems pretty much everyone in that part of East Anglia is involved in espionage and skulduggery.

William Boyd Love Is Blind (Penguin, 2019) I read this on the way back from Italy and left it on the plane, so rely on memory for this note. Brodie is a Scots piano tuner with a monster of a tyrannical father (a firebrand vicar-preacher, implausibly). Brodie falls in love with a Russian opera singer who’s also involved with a virtuoso concert pianist and his brutish brother. After hair-raising scrapes in various European cities Brodie finds himself in a remote jungle island assisting a pioneering woman ethnologist. As one does. The plot is even more complex than the le Carré. When Brodie discovers he has TB it gets even more tangled. The characters are a bit flat, but the descriptions of piano tuning are strangely engaging. This competent novel would have benefited from some editorial pruning.

Susan Hill The Comforts of Home (Vintage, 2019) Another handed on by Mrs TD. It’s one of a series, apparently, with the central character called Det. Chief Inspector Simon Serailler. It seems inevitable in this cop-centred genre that he’s a maverick rule-breaker and loner, despite being a serial flirt. The main crime (a murder on a Scottish island) at the heart of the plot is the least interesting part of the novel – it’s the relationships between Serailler, his GP sister and her husband, who’s also his boss, and her sons, that are the most entertaining aspect. There’s also a cold case (another nasty murder) that Serailler is put on to by said boss to ease him back into work after a horrific accident in which he’d lost his arm – an incident presumably from the previous novel in the series. I can’t say I’ll rush to read another one, though it’s all efficiently done, if a bit predictable.

Luke Francis Beirne Foxhunt (Baraka Books, 2022: ARC courtesy of the Canadian publishers). A cold-war thriller rather like early le Carré. In 1949 a Canadian writer called Lowell moves to London to edit a new magazine intended to promote Western literature, values and culture and its artistic freedom compared with the repressive regime of the Soviet Union. When a Canadian colleague is murdered he begins to realise all is not as it seems: the magazine’s backers are as sinister in their way as their enemies. The politically naïve Lowell undergoes a painful education in the amoral games played by these characters who lurk in the shadows. I’m not a huge fan of espionage novels, but this one is skilfully crafted and has an original premise and richly drawn characters. The revelation at one point that the Soviets were experimenting with advanced nuclear weapons is eerily pertinent given recent news about the brutal war/invasion in Ukraine and related developments.

There’s a foxhunt at one point, hence the title, but it’s not one as Trollope would have depicted it.

Yannis Tsirbas, Vic City Express

Yannis Tsirbas, Vic City Express. Baraka Books, Montréal. Published Sept. 2018. Translated from the Greek by Fred A. Reed. ARC

We don’t get many translations into English from contemporary Greek authors, so kudos to this Canadian imprint for bringing out this important little book. At just over 90 pp, it’s more of a long short story than a novella – another rarity in the publishing world.

Tsirbas Vic City coverBut it packs a punch way above its weight. What do you do if you’re trapped in your train seat opposite a bullying racist who insists on spewing out his bigoted views in a diatribe of hatred for foreigners, scrounging, dirty immigrants – anyone not ethnically Greek like him. Other passengers look the other way: no help there. The bigot ends with the usual: a final solution – poison them, as one would rats.

Our anonymous narrator does what most of us would initially do: keep pretty quiet and hope it’ll blow over. I’d like to think, though, that after a time, when the vitriolic monologue persists, and the fellow traveller (hah!) is challenged to comment, that we’d refute these vile slurs and maybe call the police: it’s a hate crime, after all.

Instead, the narrator placates him, or hides behind the banal messages on his phone. He even appears to give a half-hearted defence: we have scavengers of our own. Here’s his own internal justification that we’re made privy to; maybe it’s his ‘bourgeois courtesy’ that his wife upbraids him about;

I don’t want to have strong disagreements with strangers. Not with anybody, actually. What am I supposed to say to him? Talk about democracy and violence and culture?

Vic City is the area around the Victoria metro station in Athens, the man explains, once a proud working-class area for poor Greeks, now “infested” as this ultra-nationalist would put it, with East Europeans and migrants from other troubled parts of the world. It’s a dilemma much of Europe and America now faces: how to welcome and integrate the displaced refugees, fleeing crime, war and poverty, and to counter the rising tide of xenophobia and hostility towards them from people like this train guy.

Tsirbas doesn’t try to provide answers; like all good artists, he simply poses the right questions. They’re disturbing questions. When ordinary decent people don’t speak up, we’re in trouble. And he does so in a structurally and stylistically intriguing way. The story is really a collection of linked short stories, some of them linguistically garbled, perhaps to reflect the distress of the narrators. We get brief narratives of some of the people the racist despises, like the young man fainting from hunger, not having eaten for three days, or the mother too poor to pay for the treatment her premature baby needs.

Most disturbing is Meleti, the violent young racist who randomly attacks non-Greeks. He’s so appalling he even upsets the police, who normally turn a blind eye to racially motivated assaults – but only because he sports a tattoo intended to belittle them. Maybe this is the guy on the train.

Tsirbas shows us an aspect of the economic, political and cultural crisis that is pretty much  endemic. Normally we see it reported in the news media; this Greek novelist confronts it in an original and audaciously challenging way. There will be many more of these extreme Vic City types if we all continue to behave like this near-silent, intimidated narrator – a normal, seemingly decent chap, who in the end just walks away.

The ideal subject of totalitarian rule is not the convinced Nazi or the convinced Communist, but people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction (i.e., the reality of experience) and the distinction between true and false (i.e., the standards of thought) no longer exist. (Hannah Arendt,The Origins of Totalitarianism. 1951)