The Bottom Line: A masterpiece of wartime espionage that is as sophisticated as it is mesmerizing. Fans of Alan Furst may find a new favorite in Jeff Wallace.
Jeff Wallace, author of the brilliant The Man Who Walked Out of the Jungle, is back with a sophisticated World War II-era spy novel that blends themes of displacement, betrayal, and resilience within the harsh realities of wartime espionage. The novel opens in 1944 as Prime Minister Winston Churchhill hosts American General Dwight D. Eisenhower. At issue is an urgent mission to infiltrate Sweden and recruit a German admiral who is secretly a communist.
Time is of the essence. Compatible talent is in short supply, and the mission requires someone who speaks the required mix of languages with “native flair.” The role is eventually assigned to a Russian-born linguist named Linnea Thorsell, whose mother was Russian aristocracy, and whose father was a Swedish salesman. By 1944, Thorsell – who can speak Russian, Swedish and German – is on loan from the OSS to the British Joint intelligence Committee in London. In Linnea’s personnel file is an amusing document in which she states that she has experienced enough adventure for a lifetime, and therefore, she would prefer to “live a stable and predictable life.”
As such, when summoned to Grosvenor Street, she assumes the OSS has an important document for her to translate. Instead, the opposite is true. She begins an intense training program that will prepare her to be thrust into the heart of the Nazi occupation.
In the tradition of John Le Carre, Wallace is an exceedingly patient storyteller, taking his time with the finer details of Linnea’s rigorous, intellectually punishing training, including mock role-playing scenarios. As such, her relationship with trainer Avry is practically electric by the time she’s about to deploy to Europe.
In one of the book’s most memorable scenes, dread simmers just underneath the surface as Linnea, having worked up the courage to ask about potential outcomes over the course of several weeks, finally asks Avry about the Swedes who will meet them on the ground. Avry is predictably stoic as he lists the worst case scenarios should things go badly, followed by a casual confession that the Swedes haven’t yet rescued anyone from the Nazis as of yet. As for a weapon? A suicide pill? “It would chagrin us deeply were you to kill youself prematurely, or by accident.”
A series of payoffs unfold over the final third of the book, including an encounter between the once-reluctant linguist and the operative codenamed GALILEO. In it, she, playing the part of a prickly, domineering Soviet intelligence officer, orders the esteemed officer to obey her. Moments later, all hell breaks gloriously loose.
In a genre where far too many spy novels contain no more depth of a video game, The Thousand Year-Spy is a fully-baked immersive experience. The book’s pacing won’t be for everyone, but the sacrifices required by those who dedicate their life to spycraft are on full display here, and fans of richly drawn literature will be fully spellbound.
