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Tremor of Intent
Denis Hillier is an aging British agent based in Yugoslavia. His old school friend Roper has defected to the USSR to become one of the evil empire's great scientific minds. Hillier must bring Roper back to England or risk losing his fat retirement bonus. As thoughtful as it is funny, this morality tale of a Secret Service gone mad features sex, gluttony, violence, treacher ...more
221 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1966
86 people are currently reading
974 people want to read
About the author
Anthony Burgess
358 books4,279 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name.
Seriocomic novels of noted British writer and critic Anthony Burgess, pen name of John Burgess Wilson, include the futuristic classic A Clockwork Orange (1962).
He composed also a librettos, poems, plays, screens, and essays and traveled, broadcast, translated, linguist and educationalist. He lived for long periods in southeastern Asia, the United States of America, and Europe along Mediterranean Sea as well as England. His fiction embraces the Malayan trilogy ( The Long Day Wanes ) on the dying days of empire in the east. The Enderby quartet concerns a poet and his muse. Nothing like the Sun re-creates love life of William Shakespeare. He explores the nature of evil with Earthly Powers , a panoramic saga of the 20th century. He published studies of James Joyce, Ernest Miller Hemingway, Shakespeare, and David Herbert Lawrence. He produced the treatises Language Made Plain and A Mouthful of Air . His journalism proliferated in several languages. He translated and adapted Cyrano de Bergerac , Oedipus the King , and Carmen for the stage. He scripted Jesus of Nazareth and Moses the Lawgiver for the screen. He invented the prehistoric language, spoken in Quest for Fire . He composed the Sinfoni Melayu , the Symphony (No. 3) in C , and the opera Blooms of Dublin .
Seriocomic novels of noted British writer and critic Anthony Burgess, pen name of John Burgess Wilson, include the futuristic classic A Clockwork Orange (1962).
He composed also a librettos, poems, plays, screens, and essays and traveled, broadcast, translated, linguist and educationalist. He lived for long periods in southeastern Asia, the United States of America, and Europe along Mediterranean Sea as well as England. His fiction embraces the Malayan trilogy ( The Long Day Wanes ) on the dying days of empire in the east. The Enderby quartet concerns a poet and his muse. Nothing like the Sun re-creates love life of William Shakespeare. He explores the nature of evil with Earthly Powers , a panoramic saga of the 20th century. He published studies of James Joyce, Ernest Miller Hemingway, Shakespeare, and David Herbert Lawrence. He produced the treatises Language Made Plain and A Mouthful of Air . His journalism proliferated in several languages. He translated and adapted Cyrano de Bergerac , Oedipus the King , and Carmen for the stage. He scripted Jesus of Nazareth and Moses the Lawgiver for the screen. He invented the prehistoric language, spoken in Quest for Fire . He composed the Sinfoni Melayu , the Symphony (No. 3) in C , and the opera Blooms of Dublin .
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July 10, 2018
“The scientific approach to life is not necessarily appropriate to states of visceral anguish.”
Anthony Burgess: Blimey I’ll show them how to write a bloody spy novel.
Denis Hillier is a British secret agent based out of Yugoslavia who has accepted (bribed with a large retirement bonus) a final assignment to bring his old school friend Roper back to the West. He is on the ship Polyolbion. Knowing Anthony Burgess the name of the ship probably has some deeper meaning, but the most likely reference that I found was a poem, a topographical poem, published by Michael Drayton in 1622. Hillier has his fair share of sexual proclivities and spends a good bit of time on the voyage contemplating how best he can seduce the tastier (food will play a part), more attractive females on the voyage.
Clara is the beautiful, blue-eyed blonde teenage girl who at the tender age of 16 has very unusual bedtime reading.
”He went towards the bunk, so as to read the titles of the little library she had ranged on the shelf just above it. Priapus-A study of the Male Impulse; Varieties of the Orgasm; Pleasures of the Torture Chamber; Mechanical Refinements in Coition; A Dictionary o fSex; Clinical Studies in Sexual Inversion; The Sign of Sodom; Infant Eros--And so on and so on. Dear dear dear. A paperback on her bunkside table--a blonde in underwear and her own blood--would have been provocative to a man less satyromaniacal than Hillier; these books were more like fighting pledges of her purity, archangels guarding her terrible innocence.”
She has made an in depth study of sex, but has never put into practice what she has been reading. She proves irresistible to Hillier who has no qualms about her age or her purity, both of which might give a normal man pause, but to Hillier they add to his pleasure in despoiling her. After the deed is done he is drinking Old Mortality whiskey with tepid water a reflection of his introspection on his own life.
Hillier is challenged to an eating contest by a wealthy and unsavory man named Mr. Theodorescu. They agree on a rather large wager which Hillier accepts not because he can afford it, but because he has an eye on Theodorescu’s beautiful Indian assistant Miss Devi. This novel was written, some what, as a condemnation of the Ian Fleming James Bond novels. With that in mind instead of chips on a gambling table this Bondesque spy is involved in a contest of gluttony with the nemesis and the spy carefully studying each other to see who will falter first.
Red mullet, artichoke hearts, fillets of sole, shellfish tart withs sauce Newburg, avocado halves with caviar, cold chiffon sauce, roast lamb persillee, onion and gruyere casserole with green beans and celery julienne, poussin with barely, roast potato with sausage stuffing, harlequin sherbet, peach mousse with sirop framboise, cream dessert ring Chantilly with zabaglione sauce, poires helene with cold chocolate sauce, cold grand marnier pudding, strawberry marlow, marrons panche vicomte and nectarine flan.
Well we have seen Bond fail at the gambling table and so does Hillier at the dinner table. Theodorescu’s constitution is more like a bear preparing for hibernation. Hillier had no chance and wonders if he can charge the bet off to his expense account. He does learn something very important that Miss Devi is truly an assistant and not a traveling bed warmer for her employer.
Sari Seductress
He seduces her or she seduces him.
”But it was the one way to refertilize all the earth, for the cave opened into myriad channels below ground, mapped before him like the tree of man in an Anatomy. The gallons of mani had swollen to a scalding ocean on which navies cheered, their masts cracking. The eighty-foot tower that crowed from his loins glowed whitehot and disintegrated into a million flying bricks. He pumped the massive burden out. Uriel, Raphael, Raguel, Michael, Sariel, Gabriel, and Jerahmeel cried with sevenfold main voice, a common chord that was yet seven distinct and different notes. But, miracle, at once, from unknown reservoirs, the vessel began to fill again.
Seven archangels? Talk about a full room. I can only assume this is tantric sex on a whole new level. I’m a puppy looking with doe eyed innocence at such levels of pleasure.
Unfortunately for Hillier it is also a nefarious trap that leaves him caught between betraying his country or losing his pension and his life.
Most unpleasant.
When Hillier does finally catch up with Roper he finds that his reasoning for defecting to Russia has to do with more than just an opportunity to join the space race. He is harboring ancient ancestral resentments against the country of his birth. In 1558 his relative Edward Roper was burned at the stake at the behest of the Queen of England the only problem is Roper is a bit fuzzy on his history.
”This took place in 1558, did it?
“You know it did.”
“And it seems to have taken place in summer.”
“Yes. You can see that from the rose and the sun and the sweat. Dirty English bastards, defiling a summer’s day.”
“Well, “ said Hillier, “you bloody fool, it didn’t happen in the reign of Queen Elizabeth I. Elizabeth didn’t come to the throne till the November of 1558. The Queen that put your ancestor to death was Bloody Mary. You bloody benighted idiot, Roper. Curse your stupidity, you stupid idiot. Your ancestor was a witness for the Protestant faith.”
“That’s not true. That can’t be true.” Roper was very pale; the eye-twitch went like clockwork; he started to hiccup again: ikota ikota.
“You call yourself a bloody scientist, but you haven't even the sense to look up the facts. Your family must have been late converts, and then this story must have passed into their archives, all wrong, totally bloody wrong. Oh you incredible idiot.”
Even with proof stacked six feet high it is hard to undo decades of conditioned belief.
Burgess with stacks of evidence.
Of course none of the “rescue” goes as planned. Hillier is finding it harder to care as he has discovered there are plans by his friends at Whitehall for this to be his “last mission”. He is truly meant to be retired permanently.
His dreams of retirement are on the verge of collapse and what grand plans they are.
”Ultimately I have a desire for a spacious loghouse on a vast Northern lake, conifers all about, all oxygen and chlorophyll, paddle-steamers honking through the mist. The bar on board the Mannikko is stocked with drinks of intriguing nomenclature--Juhannus, Huhtikuu, Edustaja, Kreikka, Silmapari--and the captain, who has a large private income, is round-buying drunk but never offensive. They serve mouth-watering food--fish soused and salted, garnished with gherkins slivers of hot spiced meat on toasted rye--and there are blonde pouting girls who twitch for savage anonymous love.”
This book confused readers and critics alike when it was first released, and continues to do so. It skewers; it pokes fun; it brings into play uncomfortable seductions; the writing is at times over the top; the characters are unsympathetic; it is unpatriotic; it dismisses the whole glorified concept of spying. It is hard for many to know exactly what to think of it.
There is a dazzling use of language that had me closing my eyes and letting the words trip across my tongue a time or so before I could move on.
Note subtitle
The American edition has a subtitle of an eschatological spy novel that was not used on the British edition. Eschatology is defined as a part of theology concerned with what are believed to be the final events of history, or the ultimate destiny of humanity. This concept is commonly referred to as the "end of the world" or "end time". Maybe Burgess is saying this is the ultimate final spy novel. It certainly is the final chapter for Denis Hillier who finds himself a man without a country and with uncertain means to sustain himself.
Burgess felt John LeCarre lacked humor in his novels and that Ian Fleming was a dinosaur. Now whether George Smiley or James Bond or Denis Hillier actually represent the most accurate portrayal of a British spy that is for the reading public to decide, but I can’t help thinking that the bumbling; and yet, effective Denis Hillier might be the most accurate. This is for the lover of spy novels who thinks they have read everything.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at: https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
Anthony Burgess: Blimey I’ll show them how to write a bloody spy novel.
Denis Hillier is a British secret agent based out of Yugoslavia who has accepted (bribed with a large retirement bonus) a final assignment to bring his old school friend Roper back to the West. He is on the ship Polyolbion. Knowing Anthony Burgess the name of the ship probably has some deeper meaning, but the most likely reference that I found was a poem, a topographical poem, published by Michael Drayton in 1622. Hillier has his fair share of sexual proclivities and spends a good bit of time on the voyage contemplating how best he can seduce the tastier (food will play a part), more attractive females on the voyage.
Clara is the beautiful, blue-eyed blonde teenage girl who at the tender age of 16 has very unusual bedtime reading.
”He went towards the bunk, so as to read the titles of the little library she had ranged on the shelf just above it. Priapus-A study of the Male Impulse; Varieties of the Orgasm; Pleasures of the Torture Chamber; Mechanical Refinements in Coition; A Dictionary o fSex; Clinical Studies in Sexual Inversion; The Sign of Sodom; Infant Eros--And so on and so on. Dear dear dear. A paperback on her bunkside table--a blonde in underwear and her own blood--would have been provocative to a man less satyromaniacal than Hillier; these books were more like fighting pledges of her purity, archangels guarding her terrible innocence.”
She has made an in depth study of sex, but has never put into practice what she has been reading. She proves irresistible to Hillier who has no qualms about her age or her purity, both of which might give a normal man pause, but to Hillier they add to his pleasure in despoiling her. After the deed is done he is drinking Old Mortality whiskey with tepid water a reflection of his introspection on his own life.
Hillier is challenged to an eating contest by a wealthy and unsavory man named Mr. Theodorescu. They agree on a rather large wager which Hillier accepts not because he can afford it, but because he has an eye on Theodorescu’s beautiful Indian assistant Miss Devi. This novel was written, some what, as a condemnation of the Ian Fleming James Bond novels. With that in mind instead of chips on a gambling table this Bondesque spy is involved in a contest of gluttony with the nemesis and the spy carefully studying each other to see who will falter first.
Red mullet, artichoke hearts, fillets of sole, shellfish tart withs sauce Newburg, avocado halves with caviar, cold chiffon sauce, roast lamb persillee, onion and gruyere casserole with green beans and celery julienne, poussin with barely, roast potato with sausage stuffing, harlequin sherbet, peach mousse with sirop framboise, cream dessert ring Chantilly with zabaglione sauce, poires helene with cold chocolate sauce, cold grand marnier pudding, strawberry marlow, marrons panche vicomte and nectarine flan.
Well we have seen Bond fail at the gambling table and so does Hillier at the dinner table. Theodorescu’s constitution is more like a bear preparing for hibernation. Hillier had no chance and wonders if he can charge the bet off to his expense account. He does learn something very important that Miss Devi is truly an assistant and not a traveling bed warmer for her employer.
Sari Seductress
He seduces her or she seduces him.
”But it was the one way to refertilize all the earth, for the cave opened into myriad channels below ground, mapped before him like the tree of man in an Anatomy. The gallons of mani had swollen to a scalding ocean on which navies cheered, their masts cracking. The eighty-foot tower that crowed from his loins glowed whitehot and disintegrated into a million flying bricks. He pumped the massive burden out. Uriel, Raphael, Raguel, Michael, Sariel, Gabriel, and Jerahmeel cried with sevenfold main voice, a common chord that was yet seven distinct and different notes. But, miracle, at once, from unknown reservoirs, the vessel began to fill again.
Seven archangels? Talk about a full room. I can only assume this is tantric sex on a whole new level. I’m a puppy looking with doe eyed innocence at such levels of pleasure.
Unfortunately for Hillier it is also a nefarious trap that leaves him caught between betraying his country or losing his pension and his life.
Most unpleasant.
When Hillier does finally catch up with Roper he finds that his reasoning for defecting to Russia has to do with more than just an opportunity to join the space race. He is harboring ancient ancestral resentments against the country of his birth. In 1558 his relative Edward Roper was burned at the stake at the behest of the Queen of England the only problem is Roper is a bit fuzzy on his history.
”This took place in 1558, did it?
“You know it did.”
“And it seems to have taken place in summer.”
“Yes. You can see that from the rose and the sun and the sweat. Dirty English bastards, defiling a summer’s day.”
“Well, “ said Hillier, “you bloody fool, it didn’t happen in the reign of Queen Elizabeth I. Elizabeth didn’t come to the throne till the November of 1558. The Queen that put your ancestor to death was Bloody Mary. You bloody benighted idiot, Roper. Curse your stupidity, you stupid idiot. Your ancestor was a witness for the Protestant faith.”
“That’s not true. That can’t be true.” Roper was very pale; the eye-twitch went like clockwork; he started to hiccup again: ikota ikota.
“You call yourself a bloody scientist, but you haven't even the sense to look up the facts. Your family must have been late converts, and then this story must have passed into their archives, all wrong, totally bloody wrong. Oh you incredible idiot.”
Even with proof stacked six feet high it is hard to undo decades of conditioned belief.
Burgess with stacks of evidence.
Of course none of the “rescue” goes as planned. Hillier is finding it harder to care as he has discovered there are plans by his friends at Whitehall for this to be his “last mission”. He is truly meant to be retired permanently.
His dreams of retirement are on the verge of collapse and what grand plans they are.
”Ultimately I have a desire for a spacious loghouse on a vast Northern lake, conifers all about, all oxygen and chlorophyll, paddle-steamers honking through the mist. The bar on board the Mannikko is stocked with drinks of intriguing nomenclature--Juhannus, Huhtikuu, Edustaja, Kreikka, Silmapari--and the captain, who has a large private income, is round-buying drunk but never offensive. They serve mouth-watering food--fish soused and salted, garnished with gherkins slivers of hot spiced meat on toasted rye--and there are blonde pouting girls who twitch for savage anonymous love.”
This book confused readers and critics alike when it was first released, and continues to do so. It skewers; it pokes fun; it brings into play uncomfortable seductions; the writing is at times over the top; the characters are unsympathetic; it is unpatriotic; it dismisses the whole glorified concept of spying. It is hard for many to know exactly what to think of it.
There is a dazzling use of language that had me closing my eyes and letting the words trip across my tongue a time or so before I could move on.
Note subtitle
The American edition has a subtitle of an eschatological spy novel that was not used on the British edition. Eschatology is defined as a part of theology concerned with what are believed to be the final events of history, or the ultimate destiny of humanity. This concept is commonly referred to as the "end of the world" or "end time". Maybe Burgess is saying this is the ultimate final spy novel. It certainly is the final chapter for Denis Hillier who finds himself a man without a country and with uncertain means to sustain himself.
Burgess felt John LeCarre lacked humor in his novels and that Ian Fleming was a dinosaur. Now whether George Smiley or James Bond or Denis Hillier actually represent the most accurate portrayal of a British spy that is for the reading public to decide, but I can’t help thinking that the bumbling; and yet, effective Denis Hillier might be the most accurate. This is for the lover of spy novels who thinks they have read everything.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at: https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
July 16, 2024
This was a really tough Burgess novel. Some of the other reviews said it was like a parody of Ian Fleming and John Le Carre novels. There are moments, lines and paragraphs of pure genius in Tremor of Intent. But there is also a lot of weird stuff which is hard to keep track of.
Its about a British spy who is sent to Russia to bring back an old scientist friend who now works for the enemy. A lot of the novel takes place on a ship where the spy takes part in eating contests and gets hilariously found out by teenagers and a fat glutton after sleeping with a beautiful under aged Dravidian female!
There was some interesting commentary about the behavior of women of a defeated nation (after war). Most of the characters like the scientists German wife and the Dravidian female are highly sexed up. I liked a lot of it, but you need a dictionary and an encyclopedia by your side if you're going to read this.
Its about a British spy who is sent to Russia to bring back an old scientist friend who now works for the enemy. A lot of the novel takes place on a ship where the spy takes part in eating contests and gets hilariously found out by teenagers and a fat glutton after sleeping with a beautiful under aged Dravidian female!
There was some interesting commentary about the behavior of women of a defeated nation (after war). Most of the characters like the scientists German wife and the Dravidian female are highly sexed up. I liked a lot of it, but you need a dictionary and an encyclopedia by your side if you're going to read this.
November 9, 2009
I think this is supposed to be a satire of James Bond type of novels. The blurbs on the book make it sound sincere though. I never read any of the James Bond books, or any of the real spy novelists so maybe what I think is satire is actually how it is done. Does James Bond fuck teenage and pre-teenage girls? Do his villains sodomize 13 year old boys?
Probably my least favorite Burgess novel so far, but still good enough in it's non-spy / children fucking parts to be interesting. If you are into child fucking this might not be the book for you, since it mostly happens 'off-camera', just saying, if that is your thing. Also if you like action, this probably isn't the book for you either, because that sort of happens 'off-camera' too. If you like discussions about God you get plenty of those, and what is the nature of modern man in relation to the cold war and the games being played between super-powers. If you like talky novels that deal with stuff like that then you might like this book. If only the silly spy stuff and child fucking had been missing I think I would have enjoyed this book much more. Not that there is anything wrong with spy stuff or if child fucking happens to be your thing. Who am I to judge?
Probably my least favorite Burgess novel so far, but still good enough in it's non-spy / children fucking parts to be interesting. If you are into child fucking this might not be the book for you, since it mostly happens 'off-camera', just saying, if that is your thing. Also if you like action, this probably isn't the book for you either, because that sort of happens 'off-camera' too. If you like discussions about God you get plenty of those, and what is the nature of modern man in relation to the cold war and the games being played between super-powers. If you like talky novels that deal with stuff like that then you might like this book. If only the silly spy stuff and child fucking had been missing I think I would have enjoyed this book much more. Not that there is anything wrong with spy stuff or if child fucking happens to be your thing. Who am I to judge?
September 1, 2011
Anthony Burgess is the master of writing flawed, some might even say horrible, protagonists. Alex (from
A Clockwork Orange
) comes to mind first, of course, but there's also the eponymous character from Burgess's The Complete Enderby series, and then Hillier, from Tremor of Intent.
Published in 1966, this is a Cold War spy novel in which the spy, Hillier, is nothing at all like James Bond. I wouldn't go so far as to call this a parody of Ian Fleming's novels, because there's a lot more going on here than just a spy who's not very good at his job (or perhaps I should say more realistically competent at his job, contra James Bond, the unrealistically talented superspy).
The first section of the novel is Hillier's final report to his boss, in which he tells the reader about his childhood friend (and the target of this, his final job for MI-6), Roper, who defected to the Soviet Union several years ago, and whom Hillier has been tasked to repatriate. Hillier and Roper attended Catholic school together, where Roper was scientifically minded and religiously skeptical. After graduating, both men fought in World War II, and afterward Roper married a German woman who blamed England (and the Jews, of course) for the war. In this marriage, which was far from blissful, Roper developed anti-Western sensibilities that somehow led to his defection (though his exact reasons are not clear at first).
The second section takes place on a cruise ship sailing from Venice to Croatia, during which Hillier meets a memorable cast of characters: Wriste, his toothless cabin steward; Theodorescu, a suave but rotund gentleman who challenges Hillier to an eating competition (and who seems to be an exact match to Fosco from The Woman in White --though possibly only because I've just recently read that novel); Devi, Theodorescu's beautiful Indian assistant; Alan, a thirteen-year-old know-it-all with a penchant for cigarettes and cognac; and Clara, Alan's older sister who is a virgin but obsessed with books about sex.
The third section takes place in the port city of Yarylyuk, where Hillier tracks down Roper. This is, really, the primary "spy novel" section of the book and offers some of the funniest moments, including a sequence of scenes in which Hillier, disguised in a policeman's uniform that's a few sizes too big for him, can't seem to escape from a man on the street who's convinced Hillier is a member of the Soviet secret police, and who keeps berating him for harassing the honest citizens of Yarylyuk.
The fourth, and shortest, section wraps everything up--but I won't say how as it would give away elements of the plot.
The original subtitle to this book was "An Eschatological Spy Novel" (meaning, for those--like me--who are not at all religious, a spy novel that deals metaphorically with the Christian Second Coming and the Last Judgment). I would argue that this is misnomer (and perhaps this is why it was removed from subsequent printings); there's plenty of talk about Good and Evil (from a devout Catholic point of view) in this book, but primarily as a parallel to the dichotomy between the two sides of the Cold War, with the eventual suggestion that neither side is good nor evil, but that they are merely opposing players in a massive, cruel, and even juvenile game. (At one point the young Alex scolds Hillier for dragging him and his sister into Hillier's world, saying, "We are only children. It was up to you to recognise that. Games are all right for children. Look where your bloody games have landed us.")
I enjoyed Tremor of Intent, but I must admit it was not what I was expecting. Billed as a spy novel, I expected a lot more intrigue--even if the intrigue was somewhat inept (as I knew that this was Burgess's tongue-in-cheek rebuttal to the novels of Ian Fleming and John Le Carré). The first two sections, though very interesting, deal with Hillier's chosen career only tangentially, but they do a good job of illuminating his character. In a word, he's a jerk, which makes sense. He's a spy, so he must be. (All true spies must be duplicitous, conniving, cold-blooded self-preservationists, or else they wouldn't make it very far.) So even though the book followed a direction I wasn't expecting, I still liked it. Not as brilliant as A Clockwork Orange or the Enderby novels, but still worth reading, particularly for those interested in some of the ridiculous stuff that went on during the Cold War.
Published in 1966, this is a Cold War spy novel in which the spy, Hillier, is nothing at all like James Bond. I wouldn't go so far as to call this a parody of Ian Fleming's novels, because there's a lot more going on here than just a spy who's not very good at his job (or perhaps I should say more realistically competent at his job, contra James Bond, the unrealistically talented superspy).
The first section of the novel is Hillier's final report to his boss, in which he tells the reader about his childhood friend (and the target of this, his final job for MI-6), Roper, who defected to the Soviet Union several years ago, and whom Hillier has been tasked to repatriate. Hillier and Roper attended Catholic school together, where Roper was scientifically minded and religiously skeptical. After graduating, both men fought in World War II, and afterward Roper married a German woman who blamed England (and the Jews, of course) for the war. In this marriage, which was far from blissful, Roper developed anti-Western sensibilities that somehow led to his defection (though his exact reasons are not clear at first).
The second section takes place on a cruise ship sailing from Venice to Croatia, during which Hillier meets a memorable cast of characters: Wriste, his toothless cabin steward; Theodorescu, a suave but rotund gentleman who challenges Hillier to an eating competition (and who seems to be an exact match to Fosco from The Woman in White --though possibly only because I've just recently read that novel); Devi, Theodorescu's beautiful Indian assistant; Alan, a thirteen-year-old know-it-all with a penchant for cigarettes and cognac; and Clara, Alan's older sister who is a virgin but obsessed with books about sex.
The third section takes place in the port city of Yarylyuk, where Hillier tracks down Roper. This is, really, the primary "spy novel" section of the book and offers some of the funniest moments, including a sequence of scenes in which Hillier, disguised in a policeman's uniform that's a few sizes too big for him, can't seem to escape from a man on the street who's convinced Hillier is a member of the Soviet secret police, and who keeps berating him for harassing the honest citizens of Yarylyuk.
The fourth, and shortest, section wraps everything up--but I won't say how as it would give away elements of the plot.
The original subtitle to this book was "An Eschatological Spy Novel" (meaning, for those--like me--who are not at all religious, a spy novel that deals metaphorically with the Christian Second Coming and the Last Judgment). I would argue that this is misnomer (and perhaps this is why it was removed from subsequent printings); there's plenty of talk about Good and Evil (from a devout Catholic point of view) in this book, but primarily as a parallel to the dichotomy between the two sides of the Cold War, with the eventual suggestion that neither side is good nor evil, but that they are merely opposing players in a massive, cruel, and even juvenile game. (At one point the young Alex scolds Hillier for dragging him and his sister into Hillier's world, saying, "We are only children. It was up to you to recognise that. Games are all right for children. Look where your bloody games have landed us.")
I enjoyed Tremor of Intent, but I must admit it was not what I was expecting. Billed as a spy novel, I expected a lot more intrigue--even if the intrigue was somewhat inept (as I knew that this was Burgess's tongue-in-cheek rebuttal to the novels of Ian Fleming and John Le Carré). The first two sections, though very interesting, deal with Hillier's chosen career only tangentially, but they do a good job of illuminating his character. In a word, he's a jerk, which makes sense. He's a spy, so he must be. (All true spies must be duplicitous, conniving, cold-blooded self-preservationists, or else they wouldn't make it very far.) So even though the book followed a direction I wasn't expecting, I still liked it. Not as brilliant as A Clockwork Orange or the Enderby novels, but still worth reading, particularly for those interested in some of the ridiculous stuff that went on during the Cold War.
September 14, 2018
'"Beyond God", said Hillier, "lies the concept of God. In the concept of God lies the concept of anti-God. Ultimate reality is a dualism or a game for two players. We - people like me and my counterparts on the other side - we reflect that game''.'
I wonder which spy novel, of the many that I have read, ever said such a profound and revealing thing about the nasty little game of espionage and deception that spies and traitors are condemned to play all their lives. It is moments like these in Anthony Burgess' 'Tremor Of Intent' that sound and seem as if he really, as his intention was, showed everybody else how to write a spy novel.
Dennis Hillier is a MI6 man about to retire. His last job is to bring back English scientist Roper, who betrayed his country and has already disappeared behind the Iron Curtain. So far, as this scathingly bitter and cynical tale begins, we feel that we are in a territory of cloaks and daggers bleaker and more nihilistic than that of John Le Carre and Graham Greene. We are taken through Hillier's memories of Roper enlisting for the Second World War while debating religion and returning transformed and literally shell-shocked by the brutality that resulted from the global conflict. Is that not reason sufficient for a man to betray his own ideology and country?
Out of nowhere, there comes a pre-adolescent boy who knows an awful lot about everything, including identifying spies. There is his sister, a nubile nymphet straight out of Nabokov, who stirs sinful desire into the loins of our man Hillier, on a ship bound for the Black Sea coast. And while they are introduced as comic asides in the plot initially, Burgess then makes them- these two kids- willful accomplices to our spy when he is caught in a big fix.
And then you think- is this book for real?
But then, that is the point of it all. The Wikipedia page of 'Tremor Of Intent' will inform you that the novel confused critics and readers because so seamlessly does Burgess flit from a serious, high-brow tone of fiction to low-brow sleaze and farce that the difference vanishes literally. You walk into it expecting a sobering meditation on the life of spy and what death means to him (the subtitle suggests that) and just halfway through this expected pitch, the writer pulls the rug beneath your feet, plunging you into an unashamed orgy of gluttony, gags and grinding between the sheets.
Burgess' original intentions were to spoof both the seriousness of Le Carre and the sizzling glamour of Ian Fleming and boy, does he nail it with such fastidious brilliance and inventive wordplay that the reader might be taken aback but his jaw will still be lying on the floor, smashed open. Sample this for instance:
'Perhaps all of us who are engaged in this sort of work - international intrigue, espionage, scarlet pimpernellianism. hired assassination - seek something deeper than what most people term life, meaning a pattern of simple gratifications'.
That masterstroke of a sentence is a jab at both George Smiley and James Bond. But the audacity elsewhere is pure Burgess.
'Kraarkh kraarkh. Their memento mori tucked away, the voyagers tucked in. The Polyolbion dodged among the Cyclades. Kraarkh.'
As I said, this is a crazed, fever dream of a novel. There are parts of it soaked in bitter darkness and self-loathing, where Burgess hurtles us relentlessly into the brutal reality of being caught in the bigger game of espionage and intrigue that leaves men like burned out shells. Then again, there are parts so comically nonsensical yet so spectacularly surreal that they stun you with their outrageous wit even when it all leads nowhere, even as the main plot - of Hillier trying to finish the last job honorably despite his own weaknesses for vice and women thwarting his plans - becomes almost recklessly ridden with plot-holes. No, it is not lazy writing. It's just crazy writing.
There is an assassination that goes kaput, there is the quintessential game of cards replaced by a game of literal eating (and mind you, the delicacies served up are truly delectable) and then, there is Miss Devi.
Oh yes, Miss Devi. Burgess packs in more sex than you would find in all the Fleming books put together but here too, his touch is in breaking the stereotype. Miss Devi, the disarmingly deceptive, devilishly dusky and intelligent seductress of this book, is no gorgeous and heroic Caucasian as Fleming likes his idea of a girl but rather, as Hillier himself muses, a 'door to another world'.
Is it the best spy novel ever? No, not really. 'The Human Factor' won that title in my book. But long before Austin Powers thought of mocking secret agents, we had Burgess and he was a lot more than just a brilliant comic writer.
I sign off by promising, for the virgins, that sensational scene of lovemaking in the middle of the book that really reveals those unearthly and carnal pleasures that this femme fatale hides and then unveils. For Miss Devi, that goddess of lust incarnate herself, I recommend this book wholeheartedly.
I wonder which spy novel, of the many that I have read, ever said such a profound and revealing thing about the nasty little game of espionage and deception that spies and traitors are condemned to play all their lives. It is moments like these in Anthony Burgess' 'Tremor Of Intent' that sound and seem as if he really, as his intention was, showed everybody else how to write a spy novel.
Dennis Hillier is a MI6 man about to retire. His last job is to bring back English scientist Roper, who betrayed his country and has already disappeared behind the Iron Curtain. So far, as this scathingly bitter and cynical tale begins, we feel that we are in a territory of cloaks and daggers bleaker and more nihilistic than that of John Le Carre and Graham Greene. We are taken through Hillier's memories of Roper enlisting for the Second World War while debating religion and returning transformed and literally shell-shocked by the brutality that resulted from the global conflict. Is that not reason sufficient for a man to betray his own ideology and country?
Out of nowhere, there comes a pre-adolescent boy who knows an awful lot about everything, including identifying spies. There is his sister, a nubile nymphet straight out of Nabokov, who stirs sinful desire into the loins of our man Hillier, on a ship bound for the Black Sea coast. And while they are introduced as comic asides in the plot initially, Burgess then makes them- these two kids- willful accomplices to our spy when he is caught in a big fix.
And then you think- is this book for real?
But then, that is the point of it all. The Wikipedia page of 'Tremor Of Intent' will inform you that the novel confused critics and readers because so seamlessly does Burgess flit from a serious, high-brow tone of fiction to low-brow sleaze and farce that the difference vanishes literally. You walk into it expecting a sobering meditation on the life of spy and what death means to him (the subtitle suggests that) and just halfway through this expected pitch, the writer pulls the rug beneath your feet, plunging you into an unashamed orgy of gluttony, gags and grinding between the sheets.
Burgess' original intentions were to spoof both the seriousness of Le Carre and the sizzling glamour of Ian Fleming and boy, does he nail it with such fastidious brilliance and inventive wordplay that the reader might be taken aback but his jaw will still be lying on the floor, smashed open. Sample this for instance:
'Perhaps all of us who are engaged in this sort of work - international intrigue, espionage, scarlet pimpernellianism. hired assassination - seek something deeper than what most people term life, meaning a pattern of simple gratifications'.
That masterstroke of a sentence is a jab at both George Smiley and James Bond. But the audacity elsewhere is pure Burgess.
'Kraarkh kraarkh. Their memento mori tucked away, the voyagers tucked in. The Polyolbion dodged among the Cyclades. Kraarkh.'
As I said, this is a crazed, fever dream of a novel. There are parts of it soaked in bitter darkness and self-loathing, where Burgess hurtles us relentlessly into the brutal reality of being caught in the bigger game of espionage and intrigue that leaves men like burned out shells. Then again, there are parts so comically nonsensical yet so spectacularly surreal that they stun you with their outrageous wit even when it all leads nowhere, even as the main plot - of Hillier trying to finish the last job honorably despite his own weaknesses for vice and women thwarting his plans - becomes almost recklessly ridden with plot-holes. No, it is not lazy writing. It's just crazy writing.
There is an assassination that goes kaput, there is the quintessential game of cards replaced by a game of literal eating (and mind you, the delicacies served up are truly delectable) and then, there is Miss Devi.
Oh yes, Miss Devi. Burgess packs in more sex than you would find in all the Fleming books put together but here too, his touch is in breaking the stereotype. Miss Devi, the disarmingly deceptive, devilishly dusky and intelligent seductress of this book, is no gorgeous and heroic Caucasian as Fleming likes his idea of a girl but rather, as Hillier himself muses, a 'door to another world'.
Is it the best spy novel ever? No, not really. 'The Human Factor' won that title in my book. But long before Austin Powers thought of mocking secret agents, we had Burgess and he was a lot more than just a brilliant comic writer.
I sign off by promising, for the virgins, that sensational scene of lovemaking in the middle of the book that really reveals those unearthly and carnal pleasures that this femme fatale hides and then unveils. For Miss Devi, that goddess of lust incarnate herself, I recommend this book wholeheartedly.
July 28, 2019
A parody of spy novels. As outrageous as, but much shorter than, the Enderby series. With plenty of unexpected plot twists, it was a pleasure to read.
August 19, 2018
This was entertaining and an often hilarious cold-war spy novel. The protagonist a bit of a bungler, with an over-active sexual urge that tends to land him in trouble. He's not likable, nor is his comrade and his pursuers. One is thence stuck with a well-written, often erudite, account of a place in time with characters hard to like. This novel reads as a show-piece for the author, whose prose often dazzles as well as his massively large vocabulary (Burgess has a habit of creating words as well and slipping them in like a mickey). In the end I thought the plot forgettable and I just could not care for the characters. This is my third, and I still have another Burgess or two unread on my shelves, but he's going to have to deliver more or else I'll abandon my goal of reading his entire body of work.
February 21, 2024
In his auto-biography Burgess tells us that one of the Bond films was considered to be made by a script of his. It did not work out. But the plot was hilarious. This book is the next best thing. A spy novel. Obviously Burgess wanted to show the likes of Le Carré and Fleming how to really do such a book. And there are exciting things in the book like the eating contest of the main character with the nemesis. Some nice plot ideas. But ultimately, I must say, the most important thing is absent. The book just is not suspenseful enough. It is not a page turner. Every once in a while, one stops reading and says wow, how brilliant. But again and again I stopped and said, how boring. So as a thriller the book failed. (Also, maybe it is supposed to be a parody, but I feel uncomfortable with the main character chasing a fifteen year old girl, and telling us that once he had been “offered” a nine year old. Apparently that was where he drew the line.)
Another problem with Burgess is that his books are hard to read for a non-native speaker. He just uses a high-brow vocabulary. Not that I count that against him, of course. (Although maybe I should. He did like to show off.)
I still attach four stars. Because the story of the defector fascinated me. He hated the British because of what they did to one of his ancestors. Burning him up for his catholic beliefs. And then it turns out that that was not the case at all. Quite the reverse. Just brilliant. And what do you do, if the foundation of your existence scrambles?
Another problem with Burgess is that his books are hard to read for a non-native speaker. He just uses a high-brow vocabulary. Not that I count that against him, of course. (Although maybe I should. He did like to show off.)
I still attach four stars. Because the story of the defector fascinated me. He hated the British because of what they did to one of his ancestors. Burning him up for his catholic beliefs. And then it turns out that that was not the case at all. Quite the reverse. Just brilliant. And what do you do, if the foundation of your existence scrambles?
December 24, 2025
Tremor of Intent was exactly the summer book for which I had been looking all season long. It’s an espionage thriller written in the mid-60s which never admits to be either hard-boiled serious or a full-blown parody. Most likely, Burgess’ novel here ridicules the world and how absurd life on a planet ruled by mankind might become. There’s sweet comedy as well as bitter tragedy, and on top of all things, it’s a playful homage to the style and influence of James Joyce’s writing.
Critics often point to Hillier’s behaviour as a human being and a spy. Obviously, he’s terrible on both accounts, but him not being a role model has little to do with the quality of the book. Also, I would hardly count James Bond as a shining example of a hero in all instances.
One of the best spy books you never knew existed.
Critics often point to Hillier’s behaviour as a human being and a spy. Obviously, he’s terrible on both accounts, but him not being a role model has little to do with the quality of the book. Also, I would hardly count James Bond as a shining example of a hero in all instances.
One of the best spy books you never knew existed.
October 21, 2018
My first Burgess. Hilarious anti-Bond spy novel.
December 21, 2016
I thought about abandoning this about halfway through the first chapter, but decided to suck it up and finish it since it was so short. Really wish I'd opted to abandon it, because there was nothing at all redeeming about this novel.
The plot and characters are all over the place. The writing is frilly and pretension in a way that doesn't fit with the overall plot (and which is just absolutely insufferable). Hillier is basically a poor man's Bond, if James Bond were a self-important, totally incompetent moron. There's also a lot of really creepy kid sex in this book. Thinking about sex with teenagers, implying sex with teenagers, and then near the end just flat-out gross sex with teenagers. Super icky and super unnecessary to whatever little plot there is.
Awful, boring, horrible book. 1.5 stars. Only being rounded up because it didn't make me angry the way my other 1-star book of the year did.
The plot and characters are all over the place. The writing is frilly and pretension in a way that doesn't fit with the overall plot (and which is just absolutely insufferable). Hillier is basically a poor man's Bond, if James Bond were a self-important, totally incompetent moron. There's also a lot of really creepy kid sex in this book. Thinking about sex with teenagers, implying sex with teenagers, and then near the end just flat-out gross sex with teenagers. Super icky and super unnecessary to whatever little plot there is.
Awful, boring, horrible book. 1.5 stars. Only being rounded up because it didn't make me angry the way my other 1-star book of the year did.
January 5, 2020
There's an article in the Catholic Herald by Jonathan Wright that begins, "Anthony Burgess was a gifted writer, but he had the theology of a lapsed Catholic bore." Whether lapsed or not, many a gifted writer has tried the patience of his or her readers on that score: Waugh, Greene, etc. Even the Pope would have to stifle a yawn once those lads get into their stride.
The trouble is that to non-Catholics all that stuff is simply tedious. Characters (all the characters!) talk about states of grace and whatnot the way D&D players talk about alignment -- and with as little relevance to reality, as far as most of us are concerned. The novelist keeps putting on the brakes to lean out of the story and tell us that there's the other dimension that only Catholics will get. Yawn. Leave it in the appendix, then, chum.
All the same, Burgess does write well. Beautifully, in fact. And for a more-or-less literary writer attempting, here, a Bond/le Carré spoof, he handles the intricacies of plotting pretty niftily too. That said, there is at least one place where he trips himself up: the villain has his accomplice send a message that puts the hero's life at stake, but he only needs the threat as leverage to get the hero's cooperation. He then finds it would be more useful to have the hero alive -- but the thing is, he needn't actually have sent the message, just pretended to. Burgess was too busy thinking about transubstantiation to notice the slip.
The book was published in the '60s and I imagine it was touted as "a comic novel" (ie absurd in places but not actually funny) and "an erotic thriller" (ie full of psychedelic sex scenes that we're not intended to take seriously). There's a piss-take of Bond's archetypal meal with the bad guy, and bags of authentically seedy le Carré-ish bits of business involving postwar domestic set-ups and old school chums.
I enjoyed it despite Burgess's apparent attempts to make sure we don't take any of it (bar the alignment rules) seriously. Wikipedia says: "The novel has confused some readers and critics because it straddles the dichotomies between serious fiction and comic fiction, and between popular genre storytelling and metaphysical philosophy." I avoided the confusion by simply ignoring the comic and metaphysical aspects, and my edition lacked the subtitle ("An Eschatological Spy Novel") which might have put me off even starting.
The trouble is that to non-Catholics all that stuff is simply tedious. Characters (all the characters!) talk about states of grace and whatnot the way D&D players talk about alignment -- and with as little relevance to reality, as far as most of us are concerned. The novelist keeps putting on the brakes to lean out of the story and tell us that there's the other dimension that only Catholics will get. Yawn. Leave it in the appendix, then, chum.
All the same, Burgess does write well. Beautifully, in fact. And for a more-or-less literary writer attempting, here, a Bond/le Carré spoof, he handles the intricacies of plotting pretty niftily too. That said, there is at least one place where he trips himself up: the villain has his accomplice send a message that puts the hero's life at stake, but he only needs the threat as leverage to get the hero's cooperation. He then finds it would be more useful to have the hero alive -- but the thing is, he needn't actually have sent the message, just pretended to. Burgess was too busy thinking about transubstantiation to notice the slip.
The book was published in the '60s and I imagine it was touted as "a comic novel" (ie absurd in places but not actually funny) and "an erotic thriller" (ie full of psychedelic sex scenes that we're not intended to take seriously). There's a piss-take of Bond's archetypal meal with the bad guy, and bags of authentically seedy le Carré-ish bits of business involving postwar domestic set-ups and old school chums.
I enjoyed it despite Burgess's apparent attempts to make sure we don't take any of it (bar the alignment rules) seriously. Wikipedia says: "The novel has confused some readers and critics because it straddles the dichotomies between serious fiction and comic fiction, and between popular genre storytelling and metaphysical philosophy." I avoided the confusion by simply ignoring the comic and metaphysical aspects, and my edition lacked the subtitle ("An Eschatological Spy Novel") which might have put me off even starting.
May 7, 2021
Seemingly intended as a spoof of the spy novel, but often plays as a straight spy novel that is no longer as audacious as it may once have been. The writing has style, but the story lacks focus and never really catches fire despite some great sections.
March 13, 2018
I've been told that Burgess' intention with this book was to outdo the ridiculous tropes of the James-Bond-type spy novels. Never having read those, I can't say whether or not he succeeded. I can say that I spent a lot of time with my eyebrows raised and my mouth open at how extremely OTT it all is – especially the sex scenes, which really were, um, something. 'Distasteful' is the word that comes to mind. That said, I was so hooked on the plot and the writing that I read the whole thing in a day, and I think the ending does a lot to rescue the book from being the kind of moral black hole that the Bond movies are. . I'm glad Tremor of Intent ended the way it did, or I think it would have left a fairly unpleasant taste in my mouth. As it was, there was enough nastiness in it that I probably won't re-read it. Still, if you have a strong stomach (and you'd have to, to like this genre), the writing is witty, fast-paced and full of of Burgess' typical linguistic playfulness (I especially liked the way German characters calqued words and syntax from their own language while speaking English), so it's definitely worth a read.
June 9, 2022
More than merely a hysterical send-up of the spy genre (published in 1966, the height of Bond-mania), this book has actual seriousness to it, respecting the profound possibilities of the form while lampooning it mercilessly. The characters are well-drawn & believable, there is suspense & excitement, there are surprises & revelations, there is a world-weariness & almost resignation that evokes both Graham Greene & John le Carré. But it is also hilarious. Burgess pokes fun at all the seriousness with pinpoint accuracy & cleverness. The book tears gaping holes in protagonist Dennis Hiller's illusion of competence & cool at every opportunity, including an over-the-top sex scene involving an exotic femme fatale, & adding a pair of children as major characters is a stroke of genius that stresses the immaturity at the heart of the profession of international intrigue - it is, after all, just a kids' game played by grown-ups. The way Hillier deals with those youngsters, cringe-worthy & pathetic, makes us laugh just the same. The pinnacle of uproarious ridiculousness is an eating contest between Hillier & the book's villain Theodorescu, presented with an avalanche of Ian Fleming-esque detail & illustrating just how juvenile the Bond-like games of one-upmanship truly are. With this novel one could believe Burgess capable of pulling off absolutely anything at all, & brilliantly. Except coming up with a decent title.
March 14, 2017
It was like reading an anti Le Carre. At times hilarious, especially the sex scenes with the mystical Indian corrupter and aide to the Sidney Greenstreet evil knowledge broker, but for the most part bitter and cynical about religion and governments and the spying biz. I'm still reeling from the rich language and convoluted concept that faith in government and faith in religion is ultimately the same kind of faith. Plus lots of Catholic puns, my favorite the cuckolded man who spies on his prostitute wife to collect so many horns that it becomes a "crown of horns." Gasp. It is not a standard parody and it is not meant to be hilarious. It is meant to be bitter and cynical. Which in the end is Le Carre's intent as well. I think they pair nicely. I was also somehow reminded of The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold, but that might have been because so much of the story occurs on a very weird cruise ship.
July 12, 2013
Burgess being crafty and funny.. a direct send-up of the espionage and suspense genre that somehow manages to keep the reader going back and forth between cliffhanging and just laughing. As if Kingsley Amis had written From Russia With Love as a satire inside an adventure. Cue theme ...Lucky Jim--oo7.
[not read recently enough for more thorough review, but still resonates as maybe closer to five stars than not; time for a reread]
[not read recently enough for more thorough review, but still resonates as maybe closer to five stars than not; time for a reread]
October 8, 2011
easily my new favorite book ever. a glorious spree of sin and vulgarity in the package of a satirical spy novel. this book has everything, sex, racism, heavy drinking, luxury smoking, and gorging. it's awesome. get it. read it. thank me later.
January 15, 2021
It’s as if someone made James Bond funny and intelligent.
August 12, 2008
"He was becoming both full and empty at the same time"
August 14, 2018
If there is one disadvantage of having written a classic, it is that it often overshadows everything else you have or will write (I know, first world problems, right?). This is doubly the case when a brilliant (and certified insane) director turns said classic novel into a cult-classic movie, because now 99% of the response to your classic is either "had to read it in high school", or "saw the movie once, I think...".
Not that we should feel terribly sorry for Anthony Burgess, but it is worth pointing out that, as of this moment, A Clockwork Orange has well over half a million ratings, whereas Tremor of Intent stands at a meager 625. Which is a pity, because the latter is actually pretty good.
Pretty good, albeit somewhat confusing and this is due to the great overlap in genres, being satire, spy thriller, and philosophy. Readers may be excused for not quite getting where the narrative is going when it smoothly transitions from an incompetent spy stumbling through failed infiltration attempts and awkward sexual encounters into a philosophical discussion on the metaphysics of good and evil. Weird as the story may be, it is superbly written.
Though it is a good custom to treat every book as standing on its own, it's hard to escape the similarities between Tremor of Intent and the aforementioned A Clockwork Orange. Both deal deeply with questions of right and wrong, and put a lot of emphasis on visceral reactions and physical discomfort (there's a lot of puking, is what I'm saying). Burgess' love for the Russian (or as he puts it: Slavonic) language is also present, though this time it is only on rare occasions used as a tool to deliberately keep the reader in the dark about what is going on.
Tremor of Intent is not likely to grace the lists of mandatory school reading, but if you love literature that is rich in wit and psychological depth, you might not want to miss out on this one.
Not that we should feel terribly sorry for Anthony Burgess, but it is worth pointing out that, as of this moment, A Clockwork Orange has well over half a million ratings, whereas Tremor of Intent stands at a meager 625. Which is a pity, because the latter is actually pretty good.
Pretty good, albeit somewhat confusing and this is due to the great overlap in genres, being satire, spy thriller, and philosophy. Readers may be excused for not quite getting where the narrative is going when it smoothly transitions from an incompetent spy stumbling through failed infiltration attempts and awkward sexual encounters into a philosophical discussion on the metaphysics of good and evil. Weird as the story may be, it is superbly written.
Though it is a good custom to treat every book as standing on its own, it's hard to escape the similarities between Tremor of Intent and the aforementioned A Clockwork Orange. Both deal deeply with questions of right and wrong, and put a lot of emphasis on visceral reactions and physical discomfort (there's a lot of puking, is what I'm saying). Burgess' love for the Russian (or as he puts it: Slavonic) language is also present, though this time it is only on rare occasions used as a tool to deliberately keep the reader in the dark about what is going on.
Tremor of Intent is not likely to grace the lists of mandatory school reading, but if you love literature that is rich in wit and psychological depth, you might not want to miss out on this one.
January 1, 2018
A spy novel that's less a thriller and more comedy, with a style that verges on pastiche, taking the various established spy novel cliches (sleeping with women, top secret projects, environs of the rich and powerful) and weaving them all into one wry narrative. Tremor of Intent has much of Burgess' knowing style and his odd way with mixing high and low culture that results in multiple levels of humour and bewilderment. There's a many-paged sex scene deserving a Bad Sex Award if it were written in earnest, a dignified reference to The Duchess of Malfi, ruminations on free will, human nature and its connection to the nature of war, people stuffing themselves on cruises. Characters are caricatures or stock types commensurate with humourous effect - a brother who wins quiz shows, his beautiful sister who reads sexology books, a rationalist scientist unable to rid himself of notions of God, good and evil, a femme fatale with an encyclopedic knowledge of intercourse, and an ageing spy who is not quite James Bond but who agrees to one last job. The narrative is all surface, but there are occasional observations ('The scientific approach to life is not really appropriate to states of visceral anguish', 'He reflected, naked under his dressing-gown, on how wrong he had been about things, believing too much in choice and free will and the logic of men's acts; also the nature of love') that secure a more serious element. These aspects jar with the comic shenanigans but is also oddly blended with it, as if the story is one meta-fictional romp. While I confess I'm not too interested in the plot and sex jokes, I read for Burgess' literary inventiveness, and there are passages that do not disappoint. As a wordsmith he is supremely delightful, and here, his sentences and neologisms can at times be almost envyingly Jacobean.
March 17, 2020
Attention all Goodreads users self-isolating because of COVID-19, there is another concerning virus that endangers those staying at home (but what is home?) and on cruise liners alike - the virus of criminal espionage! Criminal, I say, because this is not like your garden spy with whiskers and a fur coat, this is the vocational spy who murders and dismembers poets and scientists both! and without remorse, because he might have read a wiff of Russian philosophy. So close your doors, windows (even those of the soul), and close your eyes, imagine the threat is beside you, pointing a pistol or some sort of homoerotic phallus at your face. Don't be shy, tell them to go to Hell!
Names, literary genres, devices, names, apparatus for self-effacement, dinner, names, it definitely has something to do with names, but whose? Mine! The game that Burgess sets down on paper - paper can be crumpled or shaped into a swan - the game is about who? what? where? why is it so confusing, the mess we make like mice running through a maze stopping only to take a leak (an information leak? supposedly so; researchers take note), where are they heading?
The tremor of intent forgotten (but didn't they give me the truth serum, oh yes), now I remember, it is about names. If he could have written about where things were headed, he could strike some sort of prophesy - what was his job again? Yes, I know he's the author known for A Clockwork Orange but we could type about that part for hours, I mean why was he put down on paper all this stuff about spying, it's a little sexual isn't it? I think, no I see, where this is going. He came to God, or he came to his senses, whichever phrase means the correct thing (are we getting to the part about names yet?), or he came on to the set of a film - I think we're getting closer - a film about shooting the Tremor of Intent?
Names, literary genres, devices, names, apparatus for self-effacement, dinner, names, it definitely has something to do with names, but whose? Mine! The game that Burgess sets down on paper - paper can be crumpled or shaped into a swan - the game is about who? what? where? why is it so confusing, the mess we make like mice running through a maze stopping only to take a leak (an information leak? supposedly so; researchers take note), where are they heading?
The tremor of intent forgotten (but didn't they give me the truth serum, oh yes), now I remember, it is about names. If he could have written about where things were headed, he could strike some sort of prophesy - what was his job again? Yes, I know he's the author known for A Clockwork Orange but we could type about that part for hours, I mean why was he put down on paper all this stuff about spying, it's a little sexual isn't it? I think, no I see, where this is going. He came to God, or he came to his senses, whichever phrase means the correct thing (are we getting to the part about names yet?), or he came on to the set of a film - I think we're getting closer - a film about shooting the Tremor of Intent?
December 18, 2023
En löytänyt Anthony Burgessin romaanin Peli kahdelle pelaajalle, 1971 (Tremor of Intent, 1966) suomennetusta painoksesta ISBN-koodia, joten en saanut kirjaa myöskään tuotua tänne Goodreadsiin ja päädyin siis kirjoittamaan arvioni tämän englanninkielisen painoksen yhteyteen.
Kellopeli Appelsiinilla (A Clockwork Orange, 1962) suuren yleisön tietoisuuteen ponnahtaneelta Burgessilta on suomennettu vain kolme romaania, ja tämä on niistä selvästi heikoin. Peli kahdelle pelaajalle on aika totinen agenttitarina, joka olisi kipeästi kaivannut hieman pilkettä silmäkulmaansa ja rennompaa otetta. Romaanissa kahdesta kroonisesta vaivasta, mässäilystä ja satyriasiksesta (hyperseksuaalisuus), kärsivä brittiläinen vakooja Hillier on gourmet-risteilyllä Venetsiasta Istanbulin kautta Krimin niemimaalle kaappaamaan takaisin Neuvostoliiton palvelukseen loikannutta entistä opiskelukaveriansa tohtori Roperia. Alkuasetelma on mitä kutkuttavin ja olisi tarjonnut aineksia mahtavaan parodiaan, mutta odotukset tyssähtävät heti lähtökuoppiinsa Burgessin vaikeaselkoisessa kerronnassa ja tarkoituksettomia yksityiskohtia pulppuavassa tekstissä. Ihan kuin Burgessilla olisi tarve päteä ja tuoda kaikki löytämänsä nippelitieto aiheesta kuin aiheesta kirjan sivuja täyttämään. Kirjallinen ilmaisu ei ole jouhevaa tai rytmikästä, vaan vaikeaselkoista, kompuroivaa ja raskasta. Ja kyllä Kaarina Jaatisen suomennoskin tuntuu kömpelöltä. Ilmeisesti kerronnan on ollut tarkoitus sisältää jotain huumoria tai parodiaa, mutta se ei kyllä välity lukijalle asti. Kerronnan tosikkomaisuus tekeekin juonenkäänteistä ja tapahtumista ennemminkin traagisia kuin mukaansatempaavia ja hauskoja. Muutamia yksityiskohtia lukuunottamatta tämä romaani on pettymys.
Arvioni: 2,0 tähteä viidestä.
Kellopeli Appelsiinilla (A Clockwork Orange, 1962) suuren yleisön tietoisuuteen ponnahtaneelta Burgessilta on suomennettu vain kolme romaania, ja tämä on niistä selvästi heikoin. Peli kahdelle pelaajalle on aika totinen agenttitarina, joka olisi kipeästi kaivannut hieman pilkettä silmäkulmaansa ja rennompaa otetta. Romaanissa kahdesta kroonisesta vaivasta, mässäilystä ja satyriasiksesta (hyperseksuaalisuus), kärsivä brittiläinen vakooja Hillier on gourmet-risteilyllä Venetsiasta Istanbulin kautta Krimin niemimaalle kaappaamaan takaisin Neuvostoliiton palvelukseen loikannutta entistä opiskelukaveriansa tohtori Roperia. Alkuasetelma on mitä kutkuttavin ja olisi tarjonnut aineksia mahtavaan parodiaan, mutta odotukset tyssähtävät heti lähtökuoppiinsa Burgessin vaikeaselkoisessa kerronnassa ja tarkoituksettomia yksityiskohtia pulppuavassa tekstissä. Ihan kuin Burgessilla olisi tarve päteä ja tuoda kaikki löytämänsä nippelitieto aiheesta kuin aiheesta kirjan sivuja täyttämään. Kirjallinen ilmaisu ei ole jouhevaa tai rytmikästä, vaan vaikeaselkoista, kompuroivaa ja raskasta. Ja kyllä Kaarina Jaatisen suomennoskin tuntuu kömpelöltä. Ilmeisesti kerronnan on ollut tarkoitus sisältää jotain huumoria tai parodiaa, mutta se ei kyllä välity lukijalle asti. Kerronnan tosikkomaisuus tekeekin juonenkäänteistä ja tapahtumista ennemminkin traagisia kuin mukaansatempaavia ja hauskoja. Muutamia yksityiskohtia lukuunottamatta tämä romaani on pettymys.
Arvioni: 2,0 tähteä viidestä.
May 14, 2023
"Tremor of Intent" by Anthony Burgess is a novel of intricate brilliance and a departure from his usual territory, as he ventures into the realm of spy thrillers. In this captivating narrative, Burgess has created a unique blend of humor, intelligence, and suspense that makes for a truly exceptional read. I enthusiastically give this novel a five-star rating.
In this book, Burgess introduces us to the world of Denis Hillier, an aging spy who embarks on a mission to the Soviet Union to confront an old acquaintance turned enemy. The novel is both a satire and homage to the genre of spy thrillers, particularly those written by authors like Ian Fleming.
Burgess's prose in "Tremor of Intent" is impeccably crafted, with a complexity and richness that is a testament to his linguistic prowess. The narrative oscillates between the comedic and the dramatic, the absurd and the realistic, the mundane and the extraordinary. It's a thrilling ride from start to finish, filled with unexpected twists and turns, philosophical musings, and an undercurrent of dark humor.
The character of Hillier is one of the most fascinating aspects of the novel. He's a protagonist who defies the traditional mold of the suave, unflappable spy. Instead, Hillier is a complex, flawed individual who struggles with issues of morality, loyalty, and identity. The supporting cast is equally intriguing, each character vividly portrayed and distinctly memorable.
One of the most striking aspects of "Tremor of Intent" is its exploration of philosophical and ethical themes. Burgess doesn't shy away from delving into deep, thought-provoking discussions about the nature of good and evil, freedom and control, truth and deception. He uses the framework of the spy thriller to probe these existential questions, giving the novel a depth and substance that sets it apart from typical genre fare.
In conclusion, "Tremor of Intent" is a masterful work by Anthony Burgess that is as entertaining as it is intellectually stimulating. It's a novel that transcends genre boundaries, offering readers a thrilling narrative, complex characters, and profound philosophical insights. For its sheer audacity, creativity, and literary craftsmanship, it undoubtedly deserves a five-star rating.
In this book, Burgess introduces us to the world of Denis Hillier, an aging spy who embarks on a mission to the Soviet Union to confront an old acquaintance turned enemy. The novel is both a satire and homage to the genre of spy thrillers, particularly those written by authors like Ian Fleming.
Burgess's prose in "Tremor of Intent" is impeccably crafted, with a complexity and richness that is a testament to his linguistic prowess. The narrative oscillates between the comedic and the dramatic, the absurd and the realistic, the mundane and the extraordinary. It's a thrilling ride from start to finish, filled with unexpected twists and turns, philosophical musings, and an undercurrent of dark humor.
The character of Hillier is one of the most fascinating aspects of the novel. He's a protagonist who defies the traditional mold of the suave, unflappable spy. Instead, Hillier is a complex, flawed individual who struggles with issues of morality, loyalty, and identity. The supporting cast is equally intriguing, each character vividly portrayed and distinctly memorable.
One of the most striking aspects of "Tremor of Intent" is its exploration of philosophical and ethical themes. Burgess doesn't shy away from delving into deep, thought-provoking discussions about the nature of good and evil, freedom and control, truth and deception. He uses the framework of the spy thriller to probe these existential questions, giving the novel a depth and substance that sets it apart from typical genre fare.
In conclusion, "Tremor of Intent" is a masterful work by Anthony Burgess that is as entertaining as it is intellectually stimulating. It's a novel that transcends genre boundaries, offering readers a thrilling narrative, complex characters, and profound philosophical insights. For its sheer audacity, creativity, and literary craftsmanship, it undoubtedly deserves a five-star rating.
March 6, 2023
"No quiero ser quien soy", diría el espía Denis Hillier parafraseando a Borges. Le reconfortó asumir el destino común de los hombres jóvenes junto a su inseparable Roper, de quien, al paso de la luz que araña los árboles, se iría distanciando hasta convertirse en perseguidor y presa. "Hago esto por dinero, me considero absolutamente venal. Necesito la bonificación final que me ha prometido para jubilarme. De no ser por mi inminente retiro, sería incapaz de jugarle una mala pasada de estas dimensiones a un amigo", confesaría Hillier. Una última mano en la que dejar todas las fichas, subastarlas en la "puja de la infamia" y rematárselas al olvido. "Usted no recibirá esta carta, señor, puesto que esta carta no ha sido escrita. Pero si consigo llevarles a Roper de regreso, y si ustedes hacen lo que temo que le harán, al menos habré ensayado una parte del contenido de su defensa"... 'Vacilación' es un juego de dobles agentes y delatores, estúpido y desesperanzado, de violinistas que elevan el arco y se equivocan de partitura, de llamas que no apagan ni toda la lluvia del mundo, de verdades de mentira y mentiras de verdad: "Soledad, libertad, / dos palabras que suelen apoyarse / en los hombros heridos del viajero"...
September 20, 2019
Frustratingly beautiful. Hillier is every man who thinks himself successful and unique. Again and again he is outmatched by people who from his point of view are barely contenders.
Theodorescu, Roper, Wriste, these men lie, to themselves mostly, to others when it suits them, and they all are their own undoing.
Hillier is nominally the hero, yet everything he touches is worse off for his involvement, he hurts people to protect them from himself, and yet can’t bring himself to realise just how destructive he is. Until the very end when he enfolds his existence into something larger and more rigid, effectively removing himself from the game.
Beautifully written, an exploration of pride and identity.
Theodorescu, Roper, Wriste, these men lie, to themselves mostly, to others when it suits them, and they all are their own undoing.
Hillier is nominally the hero, yet everything he touches is worse off for his involvement, he hurts people to protect them from himself, and yet can’t bring himself to realise just how destructive he is. Until the very end when he enfolds his existence into something larger and more rigid, effectively removing himself from the game.
Beautifully written, an exploration of pride and identity.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 27, 2020
What might James Bond have been if Ian Fleming hadn’t been such a stone cold dummy? Well, probably less popular. But on the other hand, if Fleming had been Anthony Burgess, Bond might well have turned out something like this. Though by no means the best novel he ever wrote, this is an entertaining Cold War espionage romp, simultaneously an intelligent send-up of spy novels (particularly the lothario/gourmet elements) and a thought-provoking exploration of questions of faith and loyalty.
January 31, 2023
O livro é legal, mas peca na narrativa, o leitor espera a hora da virada, mas ela nunca chega. O personagem principal é um espião “experiente” ao ponto que está se encaminhando para sua última missão. Porém comete erros muito juvenis, que me deixou na dúvida se o livro era uma comédia pastelão ou se aquilo era ironia. Enfim, a trama tem seu desfecho “satisfatório” mas longe de ser um ótimo livro.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 14, 2024
Wonderful dreamlike language, and a good underlying spy story.
There is espionage, an evil step-mother, gluttony, an annoying child genius, truth serums, coded messages, faith and doubt. All knitted together into a really entertaining story. The language is lyrical, and in places dreamlike, which meant I had to take my time and savour the experience. Well worth it!
There is espionage, an evil step-mother, gluttony, an annoying child genius, truth serums, coded messages, faith and doubt. All knitted together into a really entertaining story. The language is lyrical, and in places dreamlike, which meant I had to take my time and savour the experience. Well worth it!
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