Charles McCarry and his ‘spy’ novels featuring Paul Christopher have been my little secret for awhile. McCarry, for my money, is the only spy novelist that can stack up to John Le Carré. His prose is brilliant, his books are, without fail, excellent. But, almost nobody has heard of him.
Despite the same “wink, wink” insider knowledge shared by Le Carré and McCarry (they both worked for their countries’ spy agencies at the same time) McCarry is more ‘old boy’ Georgetown, upper crust uber patriot where Le Carré maintains an air of cynical, seedy glamour.
What separates McCarry’s Paul Christopher from the usual American spy novel is that he eschews the tongue-in-cheek derring-do of superheroes on the order of James Bond instead writing realistic character studies of complex human beings under stress and the interaction of different cultures and the characters that inhabit those cultures. Additionally, McCarry’s storylines somehow seemed drawn from actual CIA case books. In short, they were topical. For instance, The Miernik Dossier (1973). Is the story of how every intelligence agencies on both sides of the Cold War swarm like vultures over an obscure Polish functionary who may be about to defect. There is an air of doubt in the protagonist and in the major players on both sides that lends a certain ambiguity that borders on the mythical.
While trying to determine whether this potential defector, of dubious value, is the real thing or a red herring thrown out as bait by one or the other of the competing sides, brings to question just how much time and effort and money was spent by both sides and just what the return on value was for those investments. This moral dilemma weaves through an exciting search for an answer and leads to a vivid chase story through Eastern Europe and the Middle East. And adding another intellectual layer to the plot is an even deeper trek through the mind and personality of Miernik himself, an irritating, untrustworthy, courageous and obstinately undecipherable man in his motivations and importance.
“The Tears of Autumn” was another brilliantly portrayed story dealing with the CIA in Vietnam, almost a sequel to Graham Greene’s “The Quiet American.” It tells another, rather believable alt-history of the assassination of JFK. Through nearly 40 years of McCarry’s spy novels, I felt that I had my own private, intellectual alternative to the adventure-spy novels that were en vogue. Don’t get me wrong, a number of McCarry’s novels made the New York Times Bestseller’s List, but they were the type of books that made the list then swiftly disappeared, like one of his characters. What’s worse is they went out of print as well.
All of this is in preference to why I picked up Ark when I saw it in the publisher’s catalog. I was somewhat disappointed when I saw the book was science fiction and not another Paul Christopher novel, but it was not just the subject matter that kept me reading McCarry since the early ‘70s. It was also for the beauty of his prose, the depth of his stories and the marvelous, flesh and blood character studies.
I grew up on the sci-fi of Bradbury, Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke and others. Writers who put the emphasis on science in science fiction. I had slowly migrated away from the genre over the past couple of decades when sci-fi took on more of a fantasy bent, but I figured that with McCarry’s talents, and his seeming insider knowledge of the world of government espionage, he might bring that to the world of sci-fi.
I’m sorry to say that I was wrong. First. Ark takes a dead horse and bets it some more; the world’s about to end, and lets save it. Its almost a cliché from plot to print. An apocalyptic story that adds nothing to the canon.