Despite appearances, this is not essentially a story of espionage, which is just as well; Australia's Secret Intelligence Service and its employees, as depicted, are on the one hand clichéd and on the other simply unbelievable. Vincent, the central 'spy', is authenticated by a sketchily drawn operation. "Building that set of Chinese agents in Singapore was a real coup," the Director General tells him (moreover, in reality he wouldn't have needed to articulate what both knew "You did well in Singapore" would have sufficed, but the reader would have been no wiser. An author with technical problems to be solved.
But despite breaking most of the operational rules, Vincent continues to be rewarded. Recalled from the brink of a diplomatic disaster in China, he is put in charge of all the most secret and sensitive files at base. The Director General says, "... you must understand this is an academic exercise between the two of us. Don't go writing to our stations overseas -or to anyone else." Yet this conversation is immediately confided to Vincent's diary which includes the deathless report, "Today, at nine o'clock, I had an interview with the Director General: 'A', as he's known in the Service." At least it wasn't 'M'. Irrelevant anyway because he is never referred to again as 'A'. At his first meeting with Vincent, the Director General asks to be called 'Dick.'
No more convincing is the television career which opens up for Erika, the book's central female character. She is taken on largely because she is beautiful but instantly finds herself conducting probing interviews with senior Australian figures. These are apparently set up and carried out entirely independently; there is no reference to any kind of editorial control.
The dialogue doesn't help. Consider the following from the Professor who first identifies Vincent's suitability for espionage. "The virtues of Catholicism - devotion to dogma, conscious submission to an entire spiritual and intellectual system - are turned upside down in such cases, and made into a force for evil. As in witchcraft - yes? And this was the case with Dzerzhinsky, who gave himself body and soul to the Revolution - who became Saint Felix, revered today by all good officers of the KGB. His statue stands outside KGB headquarters like an icon to be worshipped. Iron Felix: he continues to strike into people's hearts, as he did in life!"
Does anybody - even a professor - speak like that?
Think pieces of that nature abound: on Chinese poetry, on French revolutionary politics, on Russian composers, etc. At times the narrative thrust stalls for page after page. Some may feel that on the terms it sets itself, the novel is a valid exploration of the psychology of secrecy, but for that it would need more plausible background and more credible characters.