I acknowledge John LeCarre as the gold standard for a generation of spy novelists, but Joseph Kanon has a warmer heart. Forgive the comparison to begin here – it helps me understand my reaction to a really great book.
I can laugh at LeCarre’s witty, sardonic irony and enjoy his beautiful writing till I get to the end of the story - which usually leaves me frustrated, if not angry. Why? No moral resolution. Just cold, cynical ambiguity reflecting the heartless world of real politik and its actors - politicians, bureaucrats, spooks – which LeCarre builds his masterful work around.
Joseph Kanon does powerful ambiguity as well, make no mistake. And Kanon’s knowledge of the spy ‘trade’ and the political issues informing his stories is just as deep as LeCarre’s. But he’s not afraid to allow some idealistic and/or sentimental coloring in the drawing of his protagonists. When LeCarre injects these elements, it’s usually to highlight naïve blindness, if not foolishness. With Kanon, you hope for his characters in a way you can’t for LeCarre’s. You feel a sympathy for the ones who aren’t strong.
I don’t demand a happy ending; but, always respecting LeCarre, as a story teller, Joseph Kanon knows how to touch my need for hope. End of comparison…
In Leaving Berlin, the bad-guy Russians running the Eastern sectors of the divided city in 1949 are predictably brutish. The more interesting bad guys are the East Germans. They believe in an idea, they want to build a new kind of Germany. They also need to please their Russian masters. They’re stuck. One way or another, Kanon makes us feel for a compelling array of East Germans who can’t see what’s happening to the socialist ideal.
The story centers around Alex Meier, a German-born Jew who escaped the Nazis for America, where he has built a successful career as a writer. But he has run afoul of the McCarthy hearings. To put it right, he makes a devil’s bargain with the CIA. The story begins with Meier’s arrival in Berlin under the pretense of having walked away from a corrupt America. He plays the role of an exiled native son, excited to be “home” to lend his artistic talents in the building of new, Fascist-free German society and culture.
Alex is not the only cultural worker who has left the West and returned to the homeland. Bertold Breht is the most re-known amongst a busy, formerly ex-pat, community of film makers, radio people, actors, painters, architects, literary publishers and other writers. They, more than any of “new Germany” believers, are increasingly shocked and numbed by the Party’s constant quest for “purity” and the paranoid system put in place to achieve it.
As a respected writer, Alex Meier receives a special welcome back, replete with adulation and privileges. But he has come to gather information – anything that might help expose and discredit the real Soviet regime. In this Alex is an amateur, but not for long. The story concerns his quick, dirty education as he enacts a desperate plan to secret some old friends who never left, and himself, back out to the West.
There’s a paradox in Leaving Berlin. The story is mostly people talking - so much dialogue in as characters duck and feint, to gain advantage or keep themselves safe. Yet this is one of the most exciting books I’ve read in a long time. There are action scenes and they are vivid. But it is the never-ending, always suspicious, self-positioning talk that renders the action scenes bang-on.
Before you get to the guts of the story, Kanon brings you in with the most beautiful descriptive writing. I have only read two of his books: one based in Istanbul, and this one based in Berlin. I admire his ability to bring a place – and a time – to life.
5 stars. At school we learned about Edger Allan Poe’s theories and rules for literary impact: the right words, at the right rhythm, in the right place. Poe’s rules are timeless. For impact, Leaving Berlin is almost perfect.