Graham Greene wryly remarks in his introduction (in this lovely hardbound edition by Bodley Head which I found in an old bookshop, as a part of an eclectic collection donated by a lyric writer who lived nearby) as he did also in "Ways of Escape" that "The Confidential Agent" was not really one of his novels, having written it in a literal race against time to churn out a thriller that his publishers could find viable to stave off possible bankruptcy. It is indeed recklessly fast, audaciously orchestrated and paced as a thriller (not that we can ever accuse the author of lassitude) and yet his own assessment of this novel is a little too modest and self-deprecating. Written on the eve of the actual outbreak of the Second World War and inspired by the background of the ongoing revolution in Spain, it deserves to be read and appraised properly as a novel that remarkably, more than any present-day thriller, captured the feverish spirit of paranoia and peril astutely. Greene had dabbled skilfully in geopolitical intrigue before it, in the lean and mean "A Gun For Sale" in the form of a shadowy villain who engineered a political assassination to plunge Europe and even England into a war and thus drive the sales of his munitions works and thus this later novel is placed at the very brink of the war washing up on the shore of Britain from across the Channel, bringing along with it a flotsam of inconvenient truths in its bracing tide.
This puts the story of the novel - of an unnamed Continental agent dispatched on a desperate mission to buy coal from a relatively peaceful England to help his side win a losing civil war in his country - in its proper perspective: the story of an alien or outsider's experience of this mostly benign but sometimes quietly sinister place, an experience of being far from the violence and chaos of home. There's an element of existential suspense in the story as the said agent finds himself frequently thwarted, diverted, outsmarted and even defeated as much as by his own trials and errors as much as by the shapeshifting strangeness of this new country. England alternates between empathy and menace, between hostility and friendly camaraderie, danger and sympathy, all the while our agent tries in vain to succeed in a mission already doomed to failure by the self-defeating despair and distrust of his own people as well as his own incorruptible honesty that puts him in odds against the intelligence of his enemy.
And thus, in the skillful hands of Greene, the spy thriller undergoes a radical transformation. Even as it honours the tradition of Buchan with its keenly astute awareness and immediacy of political tumult, he recasts the sprightly and swashbuckling Richard Hannay into a mild-mannered, world-weary, soft-spoken teacher forced by the violent outbreak of civil strife and the loss of his wife to be sent on a mission without any of the shrewd, scheming cunning that it would need to succeed. Right from the moment when he lands in Dover, Greene keeps the suspense simmering and spurting fascinatingly with both menace and macabre irony. D. is almost thwarted, side-tracked, beaten, betrayed and nearly killed and thus the game of cloaks and daggers is stripped of its heroic glory as we see him as an utterly loyal patriot tossed and played around by even his own people unwilling to trust either his incapacity or honesty.
But Greene, unlike Le Carre, does not strip this thriller of stealthy suspense and edge-of-the-seat excitement laced with an acidic English wit enlivening the darkest proceedings. In a sense, too, perversely, "The Confidential Agent" also predates the breathless spy thriller that Ian Fleming would be known for (though Greene's sense of good and evil is more realistic in its ambivalence than that writer's Manicheanism). D., after all, is as loyal to his country and cause as Bond is to England and Her Majesty's Secret Service (also, almost as loyal as a Stalinist, as Kim Philby thought about it) and the second part of the novel, even more thrilling and suspenseful by each turn, sees this mild-mannered man transform into a bitter avenger, learning some of the alacrity of his foes. And lest we forget, there is an unexpected romance here too, with a flighty, frivolous, father-hating young woman, the daughter of a coal tycoon - a love story that too arrives at a sweetly unexpected denouement.
It is astonishing, however, to note how, even at its most audacious, Greene is so capable of steering the novel and this love story out of implausibility by his extraordinary storytelling abilities. It lies in the way in which he fleshes out this flippant young woman, Rose Cullen, realistically and empathetically - she is separated from her real country birth by only a generation and freewheeling through a world of falsity and corruption, she is nevertheless attracted to D., temporarily and impulsively, through his virtue of honesty. We can hardly blame her - in her as well as our eyes (not to forget, Greene's too), D. is a hero.
"The Confidential Agent" was written with the intention to create something "legendary" out of the contemporary thriller even as Greene had to resort to the fuel of Benzedrine at breakfast to keep the pace at writing what does amount to be a legendary thriller indeed. The Benzedrine did nothing to blot out Greene's instinctive brilliance - his peerless skill with a prose style, both elegant and economical, both precise and poetic, stirringly cinematic too. And while other spy thriller writers like Fleming, Eric Ambler and even Le Carre took us on whirlwind tours of many an exotic landscape, from Central Europe to West Indies, Greene focuses his roving, awe-struck gaze at the England of the 1930s on the cusp of social and cultural change, teeming with dance halls, road houses, seedy London lodgings, foreigners from the East, humdrum Continental language classes and even the impoverished wasteland of the Midlands. It is indeed an extraordinary novel in which Greene blends his picturesque portrait of his country with a serious and objective prescience of world affairs with such dexterity that has always distinguished him as the greatest chronicler of the twentieth century's political, spiritual and moral dilemmas.