Spy games
Latest crime thriller from American writer comes with comedic twist

Crime fiction, specifically American crime fiction, has become so popular that the majority of the gush of books published in that genre have been trending toward trumpery.

It has been my mission to search for and present only the best of the crime fiction genre, drawing primarily from offshore writers. One might safely say that Europeans created the allegorical genre of crime stories, replete with exemplum of society’s corrosive elements.

Regular readers of “Murder Ink” have heard me bluster on about how many of our homegrown crime fiction books are fatuous stories with little social commentary. They are so plot driven that we’re now prime clientele of inexperienced hacks who can spin a punchy story of cops and crooks or increasingly, unsuspecting schlemiels of the most simplistic of AI frauds.

OK … I’ve petted my dog and chugged half a bottle of wine and I’m over it until the next time I get one of those books. But today, I have the most entertaining (not exciting, not frightening, not puzzling or mysterious) book I have read in years from an American writer. 

Misadventures would be the category, spiced with espionage, incompetents and a cast of boneheads, including an implied nod toward … well, let’s not go there should we offend the one jingoist reading this. 

Dan Fesperman’s 13th novel is titled “Pariah” and was released in cloth last July by one of the titans of the industry, Alfred A. Knopf.

You’ve heard enough about my view of the overfed and gaseous category of crime fiction, so let me tell you what to expect in Fesperman’s remarkable allegory of foreign intelligence-gathering featuring Hal Knight, a veteran of humorous improvisation. 

At first, Hal’s fledgling standup routine chuckled-up some parties when Hal was of circulating age. Then he livened up a few bars, did a couple of talk shows, got known as a comic actor in Hollywood and eventually became a Congressman to freshen up his routine. Dissatisfied, he crashes like a Waymo by exposing himself onstage on the last night of his 40-year career. 

So Hal takes himself to a Caribbean island to day drink, stare at the tanned and bikinied beachgoers, and hide from his ruined reputation. 

This is when Fesperman begins Hal’s life of a covert CIA asset. Hey, why not? Hal Knight is a celebrity with some notoriety, so a skilled CIA recruiter has more than a middling chance of inveigling a purveyor of stand-up comedy onto an international stage to prove his incredible improv skills. 

“Pariah” at this point, early in the Hal Knight story, is unquestionably skillfully written but sounds as if 350 pages will just be another CIA story oversold by field operatives believing a stage-savvy entertainer can be a clandestine agent.

Many readers will skate through Fesperman’s articulate writing and persuasive plot layering and be pleased reading a thin but suspenseful story. We’re used to spy stories that are so illogical or so opaque that the intrigue has been blotted out by showboating or dime-store minutiae. 

But be on guard through this light but captivating story for scenes where events seem just a bubble off center. And don’t excuse Fesperman for bogging down a bit here and there, like you’re accustomed to when reading other undercover fictions. Fesperman is deceiving you into believing that defrocked Hal Knight can be a quick-study secret agent.

Here’s the 30,000-foot view of what Hal Knight is recruited for: The president and dictator in the backwoods Baltic country of Bolrovia, Nikolai Horvatz, is a fan of Knight’s movies and jokes. The CIA, through in-country operatives, arranges for a state visit and standup performance for Hal. Cut through the recruitment on the beach and Horvatz’s invitation – very clandestine and professional – and he is on a plane with a few unlikely CIA operatives for a three-day trip to Bolrovia. 

Upon arrival, Hal is met by Horvatz’s top security engineer, Branko Sarič, who whisks Hal into a stretch limo with a half dozen roof antennas and window glass like transparent steel.

In Bolrovia, everything in Hal’s hotel room is surveilled, and he finds that his closet has been filled with a wardrobe for every conceivable occasion. 

That’s all you’ll get from me, and I’ve given you a glimpse of Hal’s recruitment and the first day in Bolrovia. And we’re on page 81 of a 350-page book.

Fesperman has written a brilliant satire. Don’t miss this one, and don’t miss Maria’s Bookshop’s 15% Murder Ink discount.