The Foreign Correspondent opens with an assassination. The reader sees it unfold through the eyes of its mastermind: a shadowy figure seated at the back of a luxury sedan, the silver medal of the Italian Fascist Party pinned to his lapel. With icy satisfaction he watches his victim enter a Paris hotel on a rainy evening in 1938, where a gunman bearing a silencer-tipped Beretta is waiting. Yet there is no mystery to this murder. It is intended as a direct, chilling message to the community of Italian intellectuals who fled Mussolini’s Italy: shut up or else…
This is Alan Furst’s ninth novel in a genre that could be described as literary historical espionage. As with his earlier books, The Foreign Correspondent takes place in Europe as it slides inexorably toward the Second World War. Carlo Weisz is the title character, an Italian newspaper reporter whose career was derailed when the fascists tightened control of the press. He eventually joins other political émigrés in Paris, where he finds work as a Reuters correspondent. His assignments take him from the battlefields of the Spanish Civil War to Hitler’s Berlin, crossing a continent where democracy is gradually being extinguished.
But Weisz retains a deep affection for his homeland. Using a pseudonym, he has been writing for Liberazione, an underground newspaper that “kicked like a mule” against the Italian government. It takes the efforts of a network of defiant anti-fascists—truck drivers, train conductors, even schoolgirls—to smuggle it back to Italy. As the story begins, Weisz finds himself inching across a treacherous tightrope. Can he and his colleagues continue to produce Liberazione after its editor is gunned down by Mussolini’s agents?
There are more quandaries. Weisz begins to receive overtures from other clandestine organizations, including the British Secret Intelligence Service. He realizes that “…spies and journalists were fated to go through life together, and it was sometimes hard to tell one from the other.” As the stakes become higher, and personal, he is drawn more deeply into the risky war of ideas that raged long before the shooting started in September 1939.
Furst’s style is spare, elegant, and evocative. The narrative is fast-paced and suspenseful, though there are few chase scenes and very little gunplay. Furst perfectly captures the undercurrent of ambiguity and suspicion that permeates Carlo Weisz’s existence. He masterfully weaves together this tension with the menace of the impending war, and adds to it romantic images—crowded cafes, softly-lit restaurants—of Parisian life. The effect is spellbinding.
This is a wonderfully detailed story, combining first-rate entertainment with the kind of history lesson that is rarely found in a classroom. Vividly-imagined characters bring to life the struggles of people who resisted fascism through daily, anonymous acts of bravery. For them, and Carlo Weisz, each word of truth was a vital weapon in the war against totalitarianism. Thanks to Alan Furst, 21st century readers are granted an intriguing glimpse into the hearts of these secret soldiers.