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Executive Times |
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2008 Book Reviews |
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The Spies
of Warsaw by Alan Furst |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click
on title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Intrigue Master
spy novelist Alan Furst’s latest novel, The Spies
of Warsaw, begins in the autumn of 1937 in Poland. The French want to
obtain as much intelligence as they can about German’s war plans, and to that
end they send a hero from the Great War, protagonist Jean-Francois Mercier to
Warsaw as the French Army attaché with a mission to run spies and gather
intelligence. Packed with historical details and supported by well-developed
characters and perfect plot momentum, The Spies
of Warsaw is a fine spy novel that will bring pleasure to many readers.
Here’s an excerpt, pp. 50-52: At the Europejski, they were
led up a marble stairway to a private dining room, all wood-paneled walls
and polished floor. Beneath crystal chandeliers, a long table was set for
thirty; the sheen of the damask tablecloth, the heavy silver, and the
gold-rimmed china glowed in the light of a dozen candelabra. They were
greeted at the door by an officer of the Polish General Staff and his
splendidly bejeweled wife. "We are so very pleased you could join
us," she said, her smile gracious and warm. The room hummed with
conversation; officers in uniform, most of the other men in evening wear,
most of the women in formal gowns. Anna, perhaps momentarily taken aback by
all the glitter, took Mercier's arm. He was instantly aware of the touch of
her hand, resting lightly on his sleeve. From some distant century, an
ancient waiter in a swallowtail coat moved toward them, parchment face lit by
a beatific smile, parchment hands holding a silver tray, which trembled
slightly, bearing two glasses of champagne. Drinks in hand, they watched him
shuffle back toward the kitchen. Anna started to say something, but another
officer wife descended on them, leading a small fellow in a dark suit, one of
the men from Renault. After the introductions, she swept away, in search of
other strays. "So, Monsieur Blanc,"
Mercier said, "a worthwhile visit, so far?" "Yes, I would say
it is; we are making our case. The R-Thirty-five tank is a magnificent
machine." "And what do you do for
the Renault company?" "I am one of the senior
engineers—I concern myself mostly with treads." From Anna, an appreciative,
encouraging nod. Treads! "Yes, that's me. And you, colonel?" "I'm the military attaché,
at the embassy." "Ah, then you must support
us—these Poles can be stubborn. Don't you think, Madame Mercier?" "Oh
yes, indeed, terribly stubborn." "Tell me, Major
Kulski," Anna said, "do you favor the Renault machine?" "Mmm, well . . ." "Oh, perhaps you are
unpersuaded." "Mm. And how do you come
to be here tonight, Pana Szarbek?" "I'm accompanying Colonel
Mercier. He's over there, by the pillar." "Then you must live in the
city." "Yes, I do, major." "I
wondered. You see, when I'm done with the army for the day, I'm something of
an artist; that's my real passion in life. So, allow me to say that you would
make a superb model, for a life drawing. Truly, superb." Mercier shook hands with
Colonel Vyborg and said, "How goes the visit?" "Not too badly. This
afternoon I had a talk with Habich's assistant—you know Habich?" "I've met him." "The best armaments
designer in Europe. Anyhow, his assistant believes that if we buy this worm
of an R-Thirty-five, the engineers can do something to improve it." "That's encouraging. Are
they thinking about numbers?" "No,
not yet. We need to get our hands on one of them and Habich's people will
tear it to pieces, then we'll see what can be done, and then we'll
talk about numbers." "So, you're with the
League of Nations." The woman was in her seventies, Anna thought; her
husband, with grand white cavalry mustaches, at least in his eighties.
"Such a hopeful notion, my dear, really. A league, of nations!
How far we've
come, in this dreadful world. My husband here, the general, was the late-life
son of a colonel in the Hussars. In 1852, that was. A great hero, my
husband's father, he fought in the Battle of Leipzig and was decorated for
bravery-we still have the medal." "At Leipzig, really." "That's
right, my dear, with Napoleon." On
every page, the atmosphere that Furst describes will place readers in the
time and place he presents, and the result is an enjoyable reading experience
of The
Spies of Warsaw. Steve
Hopkins, July 18, 2008 |
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Go to Executive Times Archives |
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The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the August 2008 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/The Spies of Warsaw.htm For Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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