I was telling my wife this morning that the British write the best spy novels and it’s not even close. Le Carré. Deighton. Herron (I’ve never been able to connect with his but I’m trying desperately). And now, this guy Oliver Harris, who I had never even heard of until I read Max Read’s indispensable Substack.
I was initially intrigued by a spy novel set in Kazakhstan. I like to read books where espionage takes place outside the glamor centers of Europe or the misunderstood locales of the Middle East, the latter of which often pegs every other brown-skinned person as a terrorist. I also like a book with good modern day spy craft, one where I can follow what’s going on but still appreciate the complexity.
Oliver Harris provides all of this and then some. Any time the plot wobbles, he’s able to steady it by leaning into Elliot Kane’s investigative skills and methods. As Kane moves from one grim circumstance to another in a Kazakhstan Harris the reader feel deeply, we see the means and methods it takes for him to do his job.
Also, I think part of the reason why the Brits do it better is because they often use the spy novel as a means of critiquing Britain’s still rigid class system where all the prep school punks take the plum jobs and ruin the country, selling it off to overseas interests from Russia and China. Harris doesn’t go as deep as Le Carré or Deighton do on this critique but there’s still some of it there.
At any rate, this is one of the best things I’ve read in 2024 and I look forward to discovering more of Harris’ work.
