THE MAN WHO LOST THE WAR

by W. T. Tyler ‧ RELEASE DATE: Feb. 29, 1980

First-novelist Tyler is doggedly, honestly working in the dense, thinking-person's-espionage mode championed by John le CarrÉ, and he captures approximately the right grave tone, page by page; but gradually it becomes sadly clear that Tyler has neither le CarrÉ's technique nor le CarrÉ's emotional deep structure--and the result is a studied and sluggish Good Try that buries its promising story in an overcoat of grinding flashbacks, ponderous talk, and bad weather. It's the early Sixties, the time of Berlin Wall crises, and Bryce, a low-level Britisher spying for Russia, has fled to East Germany--convinced that he's been betrayed because he saw his ""handler"" talking to a high British official; the twist, however (Tyler's best by far), is that what Bryce really saw was evidence of that British official's spytreason. . . so the KGB higher-ups decide that Bryce must be executed. And this execution is apparently the quiet last straw for Soviet agent Strekov, an existentially bored fellow who soon embarks on an odd private diversion: he anonymously starts feeding bits of top-secret intelligence (microfilm in buttons, etc.) to David Plummer, a disillusioned ex-CIA man (now an oil-company rep in Berlin) whom Strekov finds simpatico. Plummer is a most reluctant ally, but eventually he does bring in the CIA, hooking up with them again as they attempt to identify this anonymous spy, gain control over him, and use him to help them trap that British-official traitor. This is a solid scenario, short on action (only Plummer's flight from East to West Berlin generates some heat) but genuinely intriguing. Unfortunately, however, Tyler isn't content to let it spool out naturally: Plummer's unhappy CIA experiences in Prague and Vienna are flashbacked excessively, as is (interminably) his sensationally drab romance; diplomatic and spy types discourse archly and at length, belaboring the theme implicit in all le CarrÉ-ish espionage (""It's a filthy game, isn't it?""); and the moody descriptions of various forms of atmospheric precipitation verge on unintentional parody. A puffy crawler, then--150 pages could have easily been pruned away--but unusually patient readers may want to hang in there; and however self-sabotaged, this remains a worthy debut that promises really good books ahead if Tyler can be persuaded to speak in his own voice rather than in imitation.

Pub Date: Feb. 29, 1980

ISBN: N/A

Page Count: -

Publisher: Dial

Review Posted Online: N/A

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 1980

Categories: FICTION