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TIME: Almanac 1993
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1992-08-28
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BOOKS, Page 65Classic Spooks
DARK STAR
By Alan Furst
Houghton Mifflin; 417 pages; $22.95
Imagine discovering an unscreened espionage thriller from
the late 1930s, a classic black-and-white movie that captures
the murky allegiances and moral ambiguity of Europe on the
brink of war. All the treasured cinematic touches that convey
a mood of incipient danger are present -- a dead Soviet agent
in a waterfront brothel in Ostend, lonely footsteps muffled by
the snow on a dark Berlin street, a worn leather satchel with
a false bottom left in a Prague railway station. No, they do
not make movies like that anymore. But in Dark Star, Alan Furst
has replicated this idealized form, this image of Europe
entwined in a web of malevolent ideology.
Furst's perfect-pitch re-creation begins with a fatally
flawed protagonist: Andre Szara, 40, Pravda reporter in Europe
and occasional Soviet spy, whose life goals have been reduced
to a desire to outlast Stalin's purges. As the novel opens in
1937, Szara, a Russified Polish Jew, is caught in the midst of
a blood feud in the Soviet secret services between his NKVD
friends, mostly Jewish intellectuals, and Stalin's Georgian
thugs. The fear that dominates Szara's nomadic life is palpable:
a typically chilling passage is about his return to Russia
aboard a Soviet freighter with a human cargo of condemned men
who know that homecoming means an executioner's bullet. En
route, these compromised trade representatives and diplomats
"rarely slept, greedy for their remaining hours of
introspection, pacing about the deck when they could stand the
cold."
Szara's safety net is espionage; he becomes a full-time
NKVD operative in Paris charged with maintaining ties to an
imperiled Jewish industrialist in Berlin, who somehow knows how
many bombers Germany is building each month. Fear not; Dark Star
never becomes one of those breathless adventures that build fake
suspense around schemes to stop Hitler. Plot is less important
than Furst's powerful descriptive writing, particularly his
account of Szara's nightmare flight across Poland in the first
days of the war. What carries the book to a level beyond the
cynicism of spy novels is its ability to carry us back in time.
Nothing can be like watching Casablanca for the first time. But
Furst comes closer than anyone has in years.
By Walter Shapiro