Book Review: 'The Blind Spy' by Alex Dryden

The Blind Spy, the third volume of Alex Dryden's series of novels on Putin's Russia, has been out in the UK for some time, but has just been released as a U.S. hardcover by Ecco. For me, the 18-month delay was worth the wait.

Dryden's opening book, Red to Black, focused on the British spy Finn and his forbidden love, the KGB colonel Anna Resnikov. Proving that great fiction writers don't care so much for their characters that they prevent them from harm, Dryden dramatically offed Finn in the final pages, as his protagonist dug deeper and deeper into the shadowy world of illicit Russian billions and the illegal activities that both fueled and profited from them.

Book two, Moscow Sting, saw Resnikov defecting to the United States with her son, Finn, after their cover in France was blown by a bitter and confused ex-CIA agent, Logan Halloran. He had offered her location to the Russians, British and Americans, and it was the American private security firm Cougar -- created with more than a nod to Blackwater and its ilk -- that paid top dollar. Though she had little choice in the matter, Resnikov is happy to work with Cougar and its dominant, brilliant and larger-than-life supremo, Burt Miller, who may just be more powerful than the CIA Director he frequently works with, for her own ends. Though she is driven by revenge for Finn's death, she has realized that Putin's Moscow is rotten to the core, and will stop at nothing to bring about change in her homeland.

In The Blind Spy, Resnikov's involvement with Cougar is intensified. She has successfully brought an influential countryman and former member of Putin's inner circle, a man known only as his cover name, Mikhail, over to the intelligence firm. And rather than sit back as a consultant, she has reluctantly given up her son, who is being raised by ex-operatives on a farm in Connecticut, so she can focus full-time on bringing down Putin's administration. At her insistence, she is acting as a field operative in Ukraine, attempting to discover how Russia's attempts to stamp out nascent democracy in the former Soviet state and bring it back under Moscow's control.

To complicate matters, Miller is allowing Halloran to work in the same area. In addition to being aware of his betrayal, Resnikov was the unwilling subject of his affections during her first few months in the U.S., and is now trying to focus on her work in spite of his continued ardor and loose-cannon personality. She also has to contend with a leak in either Cougar or the CIA that compromises her safety in the Crimea, and the ire of the KGB, which will stop at nothing to capture her and make her pay for her defection. Their point man for this is Balthasar, a formidable operative whose blindness is more than compensated for by intuition and an uncanny knack for sensing the motivations of those around him.

When reading such a book, I have to be convinced that the author is credible, and when it comes to Putin-era Russia, there is no question that Dryden knows his stuff. From detailed descriptions of time and place to a masterful understanding of what makes today's Russia tick, he creates a realistic and, at times, terrifying portrayal. Dryden's development of his heroine is also first-rate. While he mentions her physical beauty and the impact of it on male colleagues too often, Dryden has expertly drawn a complex, conflicted and intriguing character who is living trapped between the Russia of her past, the America of her present and the unknown destination of her future. At first I struggled to reconcile her decision to give up the son who was the living reminder of her great love, Finn, and yet as Dryden's narrative progressed, it became clear that his was necessary for his safety and to her success in the field. Dryden could have fallen into the trap of sentimentality here or its opposite, callousness, but he avoids both, showing a mother who loves her son with all her being, but also exists to secure a better world for him to grow up in.

Click here to read the rest of this review on The Huffington Post website

EU Referendum Time: David Cameron Must Empower British Voters to Say 'No' to Angela Merkel's New EU Plans

Angela Merkel was once dubbed 'Frau Nein' for her refusal to be dragged into European policies that would over-extend Germany. Her strong leadership was compared by some to that of Margaret Thatcher, a new 'Iron Lady' for our fiscally turbulent times.

How things have changed. Merkel has become 'Frau Ja', at least when it comes to her plans for the EU to snatch what little self-determination its member states now retain.

At a joint press conference with David Cameron on 7 June, Merkel went far beyond her recent statements regarding Germany's willingness to cede sovereignty to a new, all-powerful iteration of the European Union. That's no longer enough. Now, according to Merkel, all EU member states must give up representative government, national interest and all semblance of liberty and freedom to the Brussels bureaucrats. In her own words:

"We need more Europe, a budget union, and we need a political union first and foremost. We must, step by step, cede responsibilities to Europe."

If you've been poisoned, does the emergency room doctor prescribe you more poison as the remedy? If you're morbidly obese, should you be rushed to an all-you-can-eat buffet and forced to gorge yourself to help you lose weight? Nor should the remedy for the ailments of the European Union, and they are many, be "more Europe"!

If this was the extent of Merkel's folly, it would be concerning enough, but the German leader had more to say about her phantasmagoric vision for the EU:

"We don't have a European public - domestically, every country has different priorities. A European public, a European audience needs to be created."

So, let me get this straight: It's a bad thing for a country to have its own priorities? For its politicians to do what is their raison d'être in any democracy, namely representing the wishes of their constituents in an elected parliament? Apparently democracy is well past its 'sell by' date and such things would just be selfish, at least according to Merkel and her EU cohorts.


Click here to finish reading at the Huffington Post

Book Review: Lehrter Station by David Downing

I am not a fast reader. So the fact that I finished all five books in David Downing's John Russell series in just over three weeks means that a) Zoo Station (book one) hooked me on the first page b) I made more time to read fiction that at any point in the past five years of get up-research-write-parent-go to bed-repeat c) Downing is a master of plot, characterisation and pace.

In book five, Lehrter Station, we find Russell, the half British, half American journalist who risked everything to stay in Hitler's Berlin and only fled when his luck finally ran out and Gestapo closed in, returning to find the city and the life he knew before World War II in rubble. Though his son, Paul, has survived the war and is now living in London (along with a Jewish orphan Russell's partner, Effi, took in during the war, Russell's sister-in-law and her son) many of his friends are gone, as is the city's moral fabric. The Nazi regime is no more and British and American administrators, the Red Army and NKVD, and criminal bosses are competing to fill the void.

As with each book in this series, Berlin's train stations are, as the titles suggest, indicative of the world their passengers inhabit. Here's a fine passage that describes what Russell sees on one rail journey:

"The next train was tightly packed, its passengers almost bursting out through the opening doors. Shoving his way on board, Russell found himself standing with his face almost pressed to the glass and forced to confront Berlin's ruin. The gouged and pitted flak towers were still there, and beyond them the deforested Tiergarten, a sea of stumps in which small islands of cultivation were now sprouting. The air on the train offered stark proof of the continuing soap shortage."

Russell himself is no less conflicted than the city he has called home for the best part of twenty years. Part of him longs to be back in London with his son, while another is determined to make a go of it in Berlin with Effi alongside him. And now, in late 1945, he doesn't really have a choice but to stay - Russian intelligence has called in the payback for getting him and his family out of the city as the Third Reich crumbled around them.

Click here to keep reading at the Huffington Post

Winston Churchill's Short-Lived VE Day Victory, and His Memorable Comeback

May 8, 1945. London. Winston Churchill stands alongside King George VI and other members of the Royal Family on a Buckingham Palace balcony, waving to a crowd of thousands who've gathered to celebrate with him the fall of Germany, and victory in Europe.

For Churchill, this was the defining moment of his career, a career that had once seemed, even to him, to be quickly fading away, as he shouted his clarion call about the Nazi menace from the fringe of the Conservative Party in the mid to late 1930s. Having put himself there with his lamentable, pro-Empire denial of India's independence and his monarchist knee-jerk reaction of supporting Edward VIII during the abdication crisis, (not to mention his relentless criticism of Stanley Baldwin and Neville Chamberlain's appeasement), Churchill must have thought many times that he would never rise to the position he had once felt fated for: Prime Minister, in England's darkest hour.

And yet, when the shadow fell as the Wermacht marched unchecked and unchallenged across Europe, it fell to Churchill to rally his ill-prepared nation, to woo FDR for weapons (until Pearl Harbor propelled the United States into the war) and to stare down Hitler as the future of Europe and, arguably, global democracy hung by the finest of threads.

Almost five years to the day after he assumed the highest office in the land (May 10, 1940), Churchill now savoured the victory over his mortal foe. He had promised "Blood, Toil, Tears and Sweat" in his first speech as Prime Minister and had contributed all he had in the course of a seemingly endless string of long days and nights, through inspiring ups (such as winning the air war in the Battle of Britain and cracking the German U-boat code) and spirit-sapping downs (the fall of Singapore, the capitulation of France).

After his palace appointment and addressing the nation from the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street, Churchill spoke to a rapturous crowd from a balcony outside the Ministry of Health. Afterwards, they showed their appreciated with a rendition of For He's a Jolly Good Fellow.

With such an endorsement ringing in his ears, it's easy to see why Churchill thought he would handily defeat Labour leader Clement Attlee in the General Election that soon followed. And yet, on July 26, the day of the results, he knew something was very wrong: "...just before dawn I woke suddenly with a sharp stab of almost physical pain. A hitherto subconscious conviction that we were beaten broke forth and dominated my mind." And so it proved. And not just beaten, but routed: Labour won 393 seats, giving them a majority of 183 in the Commons.

Finish reading this post at, err, the Huffington Post

Standing Desks: Jefferson, Disraeli, Churchill and, Err, Dwight K. Schrute

Stand up desks are becoming quite hip, even making it onto an episode of The Office. And speaking of hips (and, indeed, lower backs), I cured a persistent pain issue by standing to type for 2/3 of my day/night work hours. The evidence seems conclusive that sitting all day is terrible for your lumbar spine, increases the risk of heart disease and piles on the pounds like you’ve done on a Kansas City barbecue-only diet.




One thing that’s also for sure, although often overlooked, is that standing to write is nothing new. Thomas Jefferson designed a six-legged standing desk, the extra pegs adding stability. The great British statesman Benjamin Disraeli, like many of his Victorian age, preferred to be on his feet when writing. And, though he far preferred dictation as his primary composition method, Disraeli’s countryman and fellow prime minister, Winston Churchill, followed suit when he picked up his fountain pen.

And elevated desks have not been confined to the offices of heads of state. Ernest Hemingwayconsidered it soft to sit (OK, I have NO basis for that, but I can imagine him growling something similar) and, before him, Charles Dickens and Virginia Woolf scrawled away at a standing desk. More recent proponents include Philip Roth.

Click here to keep reading at the blog of Boston University's Historical Society

On the Road Again: Dispatches from a Traveling Writer

Since the March 6 release of my book about Winston Churchill’s unlikely journey to Fulton, Missouri in March 1946–Our Supreme Task–I’ve been busier than usual on the lecture circuit, not to mention with newspaper, radio and (gulp!) TV interviews. Now, we're not talking J.K. Rowling's schedule here (or, more's the pity, her royalties) but a fine publicist + the continued fascination in all things Churchill + the local history angle = a few new and formative experiences. And a few terrifying ones.

The first stop was the Big Apple, where I’d never set foot before Saturday, March 3. Fortunately a lifelong friend has lived there for seven years, and proved an informed and gracious host. Within five hours of landing at La Guardia, he’d whisked me to the Met, put up with my sensory overload at Strand Book Store–where I could have happily squandered a year’s wages–and taken me back in time at the Café Sabarsky, with its wood paneling, grand piano and the best chocolat chaud this side of Vienna. Over the next two days, we consumed more spicy, rich Indian food and its buddy, Kingsfisher lager, than I had in the previous two months, and burned it off by traversing Brooklyn, the Garment District and the East Village.

Then the heat was really on. Any time you have to set three alarms it’s gotta be early, and the 4:15 a.m. EST wakeup call on Tuesday, March 6 (the day after the anniversary of Churchill’s "Iron Curtain" speech, which I explore in my book) was certainly that. The chilly morning air and a vacuumed down double espresso shocked the sleep out of me, and my publicist and I walked from the edge of a still-dormant Times Square to the Fox & Friends studio on 6th Avenue, where the following occurred:

Click here to continue reading at the blog of Boston University's The Historical Society

Syria: Have Our 'Best and Brightest' Learned Nothing From History?

I recently wrote about Kofi Annan's peace plan for Syria, and how I hoped it was not too late for the Syrian people living under President Bashar al-Assad's tyranny. Unfortunately, my worst fears have been realized on this matter: Assad continues his assaults on the 'rebels,' all the while thumbing his nose at the democratic West and the U.N.

We should have seen this coming. Certainly, our leaders, the latest "best and brightest" contingent who represent us, should have. But, as is so often the case, we chose to overlook the lessons of history, instead favoring optimism and faith in our fellow (hu)man.

Even a basic grasp of the recent past would have spared us the wasted time of frowning at Assad and threatening him with sanctions, which to a dictator like him are about as effective as trying to stop a grizzly charge with a pea shooter. And, more importantly, we could have DONE SOMETHING to help the poor people of Syria, many of whom simply want the right to vote, the rule of law, and the other freedoms we take for granted. Instead, as Assad spoke out of one side of his mouth to agree to the ceasefire, he spoke out of the other to order his generals to continue the killing.

Part of the problem is that it is human nature to assume we are on a level playing field with our adversaries and that they will respect supposedly universal standards of engagement - the Queensbury Rules of international politics. Yet, with dictators from Stalin to Hitler to Saddam Hussein, this is not the case.

They don't care about the rules because they consider themselves above them - the megalomania and arrogance that every tyrant I can recall possesses. They also have the assurance of protection by armaments, which just fuels their blind disregard for the Geneva Convention, the Charter of the United Nations and any other coda that democratic nations abide by. The dictator views ruling by committee as weakness, diplomatic exchange as folly, and assurances of cooperation as contemptible, only to be used to buy time to solidify the position of strength.

And so it goes with Assad.

He will not be deposed by ceasefire plans, by transition strategies or by diplomatic engagement. The only language he understands is force, or, as Harry Truman put it about the Soviet Union, the simple question of "how many divisions do you have?" This is not to say that a full-scale ground invasion is needed, or, indeed, that it would do anything other than ignite the tinderbox of the Middle East. Yet we have seen recently (in the case of Libya) and not so long ago (in Bosnia), that there are other, smarter ways to topple a man like Assad. Regardless of what Britain and America do - for with certain nations continually exercising their vetoes in irresponsible fashion in the UN, it may be time for independent action - the window for talking has been slammed down on our fingers.

More Syrian men, women and children are dying by the day. How long will we allow this continue?