The Russia House – John le Carré

On my very first trip to Books for Free I faced a dilemma: with Group Portrait with Lady and What a Carve Up! already in my bag I had to pick my third (and last) free book for the day. On the one hand I had The Russia House, on the other Brighton Rock by Graham Greene. Much like Donovan in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, I chose poorly, picking up le Carré’s novel and leaving behind Greene’s (never to be seen again, at least not for free!).

The Russia House is actually ok, but that’s about it. I was expecting something as exciting as Gorky Park, but instead found a fairly slow book in which, ultimately, very little happens. It probably was thrilling back in the time of Glasnost and Perestroika, but for someone who has to teach about those times (and who has grown to take a number of the comments made by Goethe as rather obvious in the late stages of the Cold War) it just wasn’t that interesting.

The love-story behind the old washed-up anti-hero and the beautiful Russian is just a bit too cliché. And the most interesting character in the novel (Landau) just disappears after two chapters.

Also, can somebody explain to me how a spy (like the narrator) who has access to tapes but not to video recordings of the meetings described can know how the characters he is spying upon are sitting and how the light reflects in their eyes?!?

The Master of Petersburg – J.M. Coetzee

A book I had never heard of and that I picked up among the remainders in the holy Waterstones on Torrington Place because a) it was cheap, b) I have plenty of money from the National Book Tokens to spend (thanks to a particularly thoughtful boss), c) I loved Disgrace by Coetzee, d) I loved Dostoevsky’s Demons.

The thing is, I liked the idea of the novel way more than I liked the novel itself. I found Coetzee’s usually wonderful prose too cumbersome here (of course, he has to give voice to Dostoevsky!), felt that all the characters (including Dostoevsky himself) were rather uninteresting, and just struggled with those 200-odd pages of divagations on life and death.

Clearly this book has made me want to read more Dostoevsky (which I probably will during the Easter holiday – I need to do it outside of term-time otherwise I won’t be able to focus sufficiently to understand his deep message, or even just the Russian names!), but to me it was just a novel with great premises and a (predictably) underwhelming development.

Gorky Park – Martin Cruz Smith

The greatest book ever written. Seriously.

Well, maybe not.

But without a doubt one of the most enthralling crime novels I’ve ever read. Sure, it does have its fair share of problems (for instance the fact that every time I saw the main character’s name “Arkady” I actually mistakenly read “Already” – and it does get annoying over the course of 560 pages! – or the fact that from the very beginning it is quite clear that the evil Pribluda isn’t going to kill our hero, and isn’t even going to be his main antagonist), but it remains pure entertainment.

It’s also really interesting reading it through Cold War lenses: the impeccably dressed FBI agents against their clumsy Soviet counterpart, Irina’s beauty ruined forever by KGB actions, but her marks can be masked with American make-up (something that reminded me of “James Bond's "Pussy" and Anglo-American Cold War Sexuality”, one of the most interesting academic articles I’ve ever read). 

But most of all, now I know a lot more about furs…

Michael Strogoff – Jules Verne

My grandma taught me how to read when I was 4. By the time I was 5 I was a boring kid reading scientific publications on dinosaurs and wild animals. By the time I was 6 and in elementary school most people around me had also learned how to read, so I stopped and, essentially, didn’t open a book until I was 14.

Because of my long literature-free years, I am now often forced to embarrassingly catch up on books that I wish I had read in my early teens, like Michael Strogoff. I half-heartedly read 20.000 Leagues under the Sea when I was 12 (one of the few books that I was forced to read in that period and, because of the mood I was in, I think it’s best if I don’t write anything about how I felt towards Captain Nemo then), I later loved Around the World in 80 Days, but Michael Strogoff was the Jules Verne book that intrigued me the most (that said, I managed to postpone reading it until now although I had asked for it as a Christmas present probably 10 years ago).

It was a delightful read despite the fact that, more than Around the World in 80 Days, the novel is so extremely dated (its national stereotypes, its depiction of women, nationalism, courage, morality etc.) – but my edition still had the old 19^th century illustrations which made me tingly inside, and I must say I actually had goosebumps when Michael carries Nadja towards Irkutsk. It was also interesting to look at how quickly each event was described: with one hit Michael kills a bear, with one jump he runs away and so on and so forth – all those actions are described in one quick line, whereas in a 20^th century adventure they would probably last for a few epic pages.

Also, I’ve probably loved the book because it finally gave me an idea of the geography of some of those mysterious territories in the top-right corner of the Risk board…