A thoroughly enjoyable bit of Cold War espionage. "Gabriel's Moon" opens dramatically in the 30s with a deadly house fire, but most of the action takes place in the early ‘60s. Gabriel Dax is a travel writer of middling talent. He leads a quiet, rather aimless, and uncomplicated life. He's involved in a relationship with a waitress from the local Wimpy but there's no emotional aspect to it.
One day, while on a trip to Africa to research a writing project, Gabriel encounters an old university friend who asks him if he’d be interested in interviewing the new Prime Minister of the People’s Republic of the Congo, Patrice Lumumba. Dax hesitates at first, saying that he’s neither a political reporter nor an expert on Africa. Finally he agrees to the sit-down, thinking it might at least be good for an article. The interview done, Dax unhurriedly makes his way back to his London flat only to learn that Lumumba has been assassinated. He is shocked, of course, but only in a distant way. But strange things start happening, both before and after his return — phone calls where no voice answers when he picks up the receiver, a chance encounter with a woman on a plane who happens to be reading one of his books, unexpected first class tickets. For some reason he can't fathom, people (who they are he doesn’t know) are very, even desperately, eager to get their hands on the notes and tape recording of the Lumumba interview. And suddenly Dax finds himself in the spy business.
“Gabriel’s Moon” has a throwback feel to it, an air of an earlier, more innocent time. In true spy novel fashion, the plot takes Gabriel to several different countries and is twisty enough to keep the reader guessing. But the stakes aren’t as world-threatening as we’ve become used to in our spy fiction. Dax is nowhere anywhere at all on the James Bond/Jason Bourne spectrum, though Boyd quietly parodies elements of Bond’s canon. There’s more than a little irony here but it doesn’t have the sharp edges that seem so necessary in recent spy novels. It isn't as dense and claustrophobic (in a good way!) as a le Carre book. It’s just a story of a rather ordinary — even feckless — man living a quiet life of travel, writing, endless cigarettes, commitment-free sex, and therapy sessions (even though he doesn't believe in therapy) where he talks about the fire that killed his mother. Almost on a whim — and because his older brother works in the Foreign Office, so there's a hint of sibling rivalry — he agrees to do some “small” jobs for MI6; it sounds like fun and pays well. He becomes strongly attracted to his “handler” who keeps contacting him about another little trip. Finally, as might well be expected, Gabriel finds himself caught up in plots and counterplots, double-crosses, threats, a corpse, and finally mounting peril behind the Iron Curtain.
It’s not a “deep” book, nor does it pretend to be. It’s entertaining, it doesn’t strain credulity, it captures some of the geopolitics of the 60s Cold War, and it even raises real ethical issues. Boyd leaves the door ajar just a bit at the end for a sequel.
My thanks to Atlantic Monthly and Edelweis+ for providing a digital ARC in return for an honest review.