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768 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 9, 2023
I begin my review by offering my encouragement and best wishes to Maxym for his final assignment. Just the guy we need.
This is a rollicking good book packed with action and a real page-turner. Maxym is quite as unvbelievable as James Bond, and almost as bullet-proof, and none the worse for that; he is an equally engaging figure with a private life that rivals 007's. Fried dumplings replace the more famous Martini.
What is unusual and interesting is the character's location in Russia, and although his flawless English is spoken in Italics, we read his native speech and see his view of his Russian culture through his eyes. How authentic this is, I am not in a position to judge, but it is very convincing, and refreshing to find oneself inside the head of someone who is not a blue-blooded English Biggles (look him up), and to see recent history in Ireland, America, Afghanistan and Ukraine from a rather different point of view.
At its core, the book is a reworking of The Clouds Still Hang with a very different ending, the plot centring around bitter experiences of loss and separation, and a series of repeated separations throughout the story. So traumatic was the initial loss of his murdered family that it turned Maxym into a ruthless killer with psychopathic motivation and autistic detachment
This is where I find the character of Max to be unconvincing. The repetitions of the story of his traumatic separation as a six-year-old, do nothing (for me) to alter my reading of Maxym's typically gay kindness and generosity, and concern for and understanding of other people. The accusation of being a psychopathic killer, and insensitive to others, actually runs counter to his behaviour towartds his family and many friends, and the regard they have for him.
Three-quarters of the way through the book is the sentence, 'Putin doesn't seem to me to be the kind of person who has pals.' There is the psychopath, in that one sentence; a description shared, ironically, with Donald Trump. Trump's traumatic origins devoid of warmth and sympathy give rise to him being the man we see (the public face of, at least). Putin, I don't doubt, has much in common with Trump. Both demand worship, not pals.
Maxym is very different, and all the indications are that he was wrenched from a family he loved and who loved him, to be adopted by Leonid, whose warmth he also enjoyed. I see Maxym's issues as more to do with anger than psychopathy. Conversely, I struggle to see in my mind's eye the image of Putin, Vladimir Vladimirovich, tucked up in bed with his childhood Bruno the bear supplying much-needed company.
So I don't find Max's enjoyment of killing or the supposed dark side of his personality particularly convincing, except as an expression of a deep anger that occasionally takes hold of him.
That said, it remains for me a thoroughly compelling read, the twists and turns managed skilfully enough to keep me reading into the small hours just to find out how the book ends.