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I was disheartened when Olen Steinhauer decided to shut down the group blog Contemporary Nomad at the end of last year. I was a big fan of the authors that posted and enjoyed both interacting with them in this limited way and hearing about what they were up to.  But I understand blogging isn’t always a wise investment for authors nor is it easy to find time to keep it up.

A link in my stat tracker program reminded me of the good old days of the blog and led me back to Olen’s home page (where he is now using Tumblr). Which in turn led me to his novella You Know What’s Going On which is the subject of this post.

The story (originally published in Agents of Treachery, an espionage-fiction anthology edited by Otto Penzler) is classic Steinhauer: engrossing and full of suspense even as it is thought provoking with a literary flair.

The plot involves a CIA mission against a terrorist organization in Africa.  But what exactly is the mission and what motivates it is the question each of the characters finds themselves asking.

Steinhauer offers the perspective of four characters: Paul, Sam, Nabil and Benjamin—two CIA agents, a Somali terrorist, and a Kenyan policeman.  It is a testament to his skill that such a short story can pack such a punch.

Paul the agent afraid to die, Sam out for revenge on multiple levels, Nabil the ambitious terrorist trying to see all the angles, and Benjamin in the middle trying to figure it out. As each character adds their perspective and details the tension and suspense ratchets up a notch. The reader get a little more clarity even as the characters scramble to understand the big picture. It all ends in flames.  Along the way Steinhauer muses on death, perspective and trust.

If you are looking for some great espionage fiction, and to hold you over until the next Milo Weaver novel comes out, this is an excellent and quick read that is also a great deal ($.99!). I highly recommend it.

From Publishers Weekly

Milo Weaver, a former field agent with the CIA’s clandestine Department of Tourism, returns to action after a stint in prison for alleged financial fraud in this intense sequel to The Tourist. His handlers want Weaver to pursue a mole rumored to have infiltrated the CIA’s black-ops department, but with his loyalty in question, he must first undergo some test missions, one of which is to kill the 15-year-old daughter of Moldovan immigrants now living in Berlin. Such a horrific assignment further weakens Weaver’s already wavering enthusiasm for his secret life, and he becomes increasingly preoccupied with reconnecting with his estranged wife and child. When bombshell revelations rock Weaver’s world, he vows to somehow put international intelligence work behind him. Can he do so without jeopardizing his and his family’s safety? Steinhauer’s adept characterization of a morally conflicted spy makes this an emotionally powerful read.

Cover of Angelology: A Novel

Wow, I have read exactly two of the 100 Notable Books of 2010 as determined by the New York Times.

Here are the two I have read:

• ANGELOLOGY. By Danielle Trussoni. (Viking, $27.95.) With a smitten art historian at her side, the young nun at the center of this rousing first novel is drawn into an ancient struggle against the Nephilim, hybrid offspring of humans and heavenly beings. (My review here)

• THE NEAREST EXIT. By Olen Steinhauer. (Minotaur, $25.99.) The C.I.A. spy in this thriller is sick of his trade’s duplicity, amorality and rootlessness. (My review here)

I guess I am not reading what the cool kids are these days …

Booklist had a nice recap/review

Since the events of The Tourist (2009), Milo Weaver has served time in prison, worked in administration, and tried to reconnect with his wife and daughter. But talk therapy is hard when you’re trained to keep secrets. When asked to return to the field, he agrees, although, because of his disgust with the Department of Tourism (a black-ops branch of the CIA), he plans to feed information to his father, Yevgeny Primakov, the “secret ear” of the UN. But his handlers don’t trust him, either, giving him a series of vetting assignments that culminates in an impossible loyalty test: the abduction and murder of a 15-year-old girl. Ironically, Weaver is then tasked with finding a security breach that threatens the very existence of Tourism—and the lives of the Tourists. Seeing his own brutal compatriots as humans, he does his best to save the thing he despises, a conundrum that pretty much sums up the shades of gray that paint this modern-day espionage masterpiece.

The Tourist was impressive, proving that Steinhauer had the ability to leap from the historical setting of his excellent Eastern European quintet to a vividly imagined contemporary landscape. But this is even better, a dazzling, dizzyingly complex world of clandestine warfare that is complicated further by the affairs of the heart. Steinhauer never forgets the human lives at stake, and that, perhaps, is the now-older Weaver’s flaw: he is too human, too attached, to be the perfect spy. His failure to save the girl he was told to kill threads the whole book like barbed wire.

My quick take? It was great – I expected nothing less from Olen of course! -  an intelligent and literary thriller. This one seemed even more focused on the psychological and emotional (Milo’s marriage, what it means to be a Tourist, etc.) even as it explored the complicated world of Post Cold War espionage and foreign affairs.   Just as you think you have a handle on the plot there is a twist at the end that keeps you guessing.  There is a depth to the emotional and moral element however, that gives the spy thriller aspect added heft.  I think I might need to re-read this one to fully appreciate it.

So if you are looking for something to read this summer and for some bizzare reason haven’t yet read Steinhauer I suggest you rectify that as soon as possible.

This may seem a tad pushy but, trust me, I am doing you a favor.

The paperback is out today (and you can buy an ebook as well) so you really have no excuse at this point.

As I said in my review:

What makes Steinhauer different from so many writers of international thrillers is his ability to write a suspenseful espionage plot and yet still have elements of the more literary aspect of novels.  The writing is tight and even graceful at times.  The characters are not cardboard cutouts and Steinhauer delves into their psychological make up and personality for more than just plot plausibility.

And Olen has provided some hand picked music to go with the release. So head over there and get your The Tourist iMix

So stop by your local bookstore or click on the link above and read The Tourist so you are ready when  The Nearest Exit comes out in May.

Booklist review of The Nearest Exit below.

Since the events of The Tourist (2009), Milo Weaver has served time in prison, worked in administration, and tried to reconnect with his wife and daughter. But talk therapy is hard when you’re trained to keep secrets. When asked to return to the field, he agrees, although, because of his disgust with the Department of Tourism (a black-ops branch of the CIA), he plans to feed information to his father, Yevgeny Primakov, the “secret ear” of the UN. But his handlers don’t trust him, either, giving him a series of vetting assignments that culminates in an impossible loyalty test: the abduction and murder of a 15-year-old girl. Ironically, Weaver is then tasked with finding a security breach that threatens the very existence of Tourism—and the lives of the Tourists. Seeing his own brutal compatriots as humans, he does his best to save the thing he despises, a conundrum that pretty much sums up the shades of gray that paint this modern-day espionage masterpiece. The Tourist was impressive, proving that Steinhauer had the ability to leap from the historical setting of his excellent Eastern European quintet to a vividly imagined contemporary landscape. But this is even better, a dazzling, dizzyingly complex world of clandestine warfare that is complicated further by the affairs of the heart. Steinhauer never forgets the human lives at stake, and that, perhaps, is the now-older Weaver’s flaw: he is too human, too attached, to be the perfect spy. His failure to save the girl he was told to kill threads the whole book like barbed wire.  –Keir Graff

Marilyn Stasio reviews Olen Steinhauer’s [amazon-product region="us" text="The Tourist" type="text"]0312369727[/amazon-product] in the NYTBR.  She seems to struggle with it because it lacks the sort of straightforward plot you would expect of a international thriller.  After praising the central character Milo Weaver she drops in her frustrations:

The only drawback to this warm close-up of the protagonist is that it skews the novel, rendering it more of a character study than a full-bodied espionage novel. There’s plenty of plot, but it’s messy rather than complex; and while the cast is thickly populated with career spooks from France, Russia, China, Sudan and components of the former Yugoslavia, few of them develop into worthy adversaries, and their agendas are so murky that we’re not particularly anxious to get back to them.

I think this is true to a certain degree but besides the point.  I don’t think Steinhauer was attempting to write am espionage novel in the traditional sense.  I have been arguing instead is that he is attempting to use elements of the thriller and espionage genre and yet write more literary novels.

The Tourist is not a novel where the good guy battles one clear bad guy and the plot is a straight line with some detours and plot twists to keep you guessing.  Instead the plot structure reflects the underlying ideas being explored.

As I pointed out in my review, Stasio’s fellow NYT reviewer Janet Maslin noted why the book has a particularly structure and style:

Mr. Steinhauer’s book also operates on the principle that this story’s secrets can be coaxed forth only indirectly “because it’s a known fact that no decent intelligence operative believes anything he’s told.”

The lazy writer of espionage plots need only concoct a world-weary agent and then send him through a string of perilous escapades. Mr. Steinhauer does something much more interesting. Rather than merely describe Milo Weaver’s dizzying exploits, he replicates them; he immerses his reader in the same kind of uncertainty that Milo faces at every turn.

Stasio certainly understands the novel is about trust and about how we get to the truth, because she devotes a couple of paragraphs to the subject, I am not sure how to take the last half of her last sentence:

[W]hile Steinhauer makes Milo a mensch for his times, there’s something deeply troubling when the most exciting scenes in an international thriller are set in the Magic Kingdom.

I think that phrase is true and I think Steinhauer meant it to be.  I put it this way:

Steinhauer seems to hint that the desire to form an empire, or defend one, both causes American to act in the same way and in ways counter to her founding ideals.  In essence, we are Milo the husband and father and his Tourism is the part we hope doesn’t exists or don’t want to know about.

One part of the plot simply plays out how a person for whom most of their life has involved deception lacks the ability to develop trust; if you are focused on keeping secrets how can you build trust?

The second level asks this question on a larger level.  Does the practice of espionage inculcate this same lack of trust and inherently involve self-deception?  And does the desire for empire cause us to rationalize away the moral challenges involved?

A straightforward international thriller style plot would not be able to present these issues and questions in the same way as The Tourist does.  And the extended character study of Milo Weaver is what gives the book its more literary style in my opinion.

But I don’t think this means less excitement.  The scene of Weaver and Grainger in the country house, for example, is loaded with tension and excitement.  But I suppose if you are looking for the book version of a long car chase, perhaps the Tourist lacks such excitement.

As I noted in my review, there are tradoffs involved.  If you want fast paced action you sacrifice a certain literary quality.  If you want a focus on language and style action is often left behind.  I appreciate those who attempt to blend something of the two elements.

I will be honest.  I am an Olen Steinhauer fan. Have been since I picked up his first book, The Bridge of Sighs, some time ago (and started reading his blog as well).  His crime series set in an unnamed Eastern European country during the Cold War was in my sweet spot as a former grad student with a focus on the Cold War: great writing, interesting characters, an espionage/crime thriller with the Iron Curtain as a backdrop, what’s not to like?

But Steinhauer has put that series to bed and has started a new direction or at least a new series with The Tourist.

Here is the plot as outlined by the publisher:

Milo Weaver used to be a “tourist” for the CIA – an undercover agent with no home, no identity – but he’s since retired from the field to become a middle-level manager at the CIA’s New York headquarters. He’s acquired a wife, a daughter, and a brownstone in Brooklyn, and he’s tried to leave his old life of secrets and lies behind. However, when the arrest of a long-sought-after assassin sets off an investigation into one of Milo’s oldest colleagues and exposes new layers of intrigue in his old cases, he has no choice but to go back undercover and find out who’s holding the strings once and for all.

This book carried risk and reward. New is exciting but what happens when the author leaves a much loved series behind and starts a new project? Sure, it is still what I like to call a literary thriller, but what if Steinhauer stumbled on his first stand alone?  Made me a little nervous, I will admit.

Another element of pressure, and an opportunity to stumble, was provided by the pre-publication publicity – which has been known to trip me up in the past.  The publicity  put Steinhauer in the pantheon of great spy thriller writers like Le Carre, Deighton, Graham Green, etc. Not an easy label to live up to.

Well, as I noted earlier, I am happy to report that Steinhauer didn’t stumble but merely brought his talents to a different task. I am in no position to label him the next Le Carre etc. but he certainly has tapped into the same vein and talents that kept me reading these type of authors.

The Tourist is a great and thought provoking read for anyone who enjoys the thriller aspects of the espionage genre but prefers better – and more philosophical – writing than your average airport pick up.

More below.

What makes Steinhauer different from so many writers of international thrillers is his ability to write a suspenseful espionage plot and yet still have elements of the more literary aspect of novels.  The writing is tight and even graceful at times.  The characters are not cardboard cutouts and Steinhauer delves into their psychological make up and personality for more than just plot plausibility.

Steinhauer also has that ability to create a wider lens; make you see the world through his – and his character’s – eyes.  This was obviously the case in his creation of the fictional Eastern European country in his previous series, but it is also the case here.  He creates this concept of the Tourist’s and builds a whole department around them.  As is always the case with thrillers, the details are not always completly plausible but the world of Milo Weaver feels all to real.

The style and structure of the story match the philosophical questions and themes that lay below the surface.  The reader both enjoys the story and is made uncomfortable by it.

The result is a depth and a richness that, as I said, is just not there in so many other examples of this genre.  Not to pick on Alex Berenseon, but he writes like a reporter not a writer; and there is a difference.

So what is The Tourist about?  Well, nothing less than the nature of truth and how we come to it.  OK, maybe that is an exageration, but it is certainly about lies and (self) deception.

Janet Maslin’s NYT review points out one of the ideas the novel turns on:

Mr. Steinhauer’s book also operates on the principle that this story’s secrets can be coaxed forth only indirectly “because it’s a known fact that no decent intelligence operative believes anything he’s told.

In exploring spy tradecraft and the role of intelligence in the modern world Steinhauer ponders what this means.  How do spies – and spy agencies – get caught up in their own paradigms and how can this lead to self-deception and treachery?

And that is one of the reasons Milo is such a great character.  In many ways he is the iconic world weary but almost supernatural spy.  He kills before he is killed and always seems one step ahead of his enemies.  Milo is a excellent Tourist; one of the best.

But despite his heroic acts he is contemplating suicide.  He manages to survive and find love, but treachery pulls him in again (or is it his inability to let things go or say no?) and just when he thinks he is using all of these skills to get the truth he finds he isn’t quite so clever. His friend Angela was a better spy and his actions lead – at least indirectly – to her death.  His boss and mentor Grainger also dies because Milo thinks he understands when he clearly doesn’t; when he acts on instinct with out evidence.  Weaver only survives when he hands over control to someone else; when he puts his faith in something other than his own knowledge and actions.  And this leads not to happily ever after but being a Tourist again in some fashion.

Trust is inexplicably mixed up in our search for truth.  In the absence of clear facts we need trust and authority to help us makes sense of the world.  But what happens when you can’t trust anyone?  When trust and loyalty are seen as luxuries you can’t afford; as something that can get you killed.

This is where Milo finds himself in his work and in his personal life.  Milo’s marriage begins to unravel because the life he has led is based on deception and this eats away at the trust in all his relationships.

I think Steinhauer is also saying something about the power of storytelling.  The ability to weave a convincing story is a powerful thing, but it is also the power to deceive.  What we might think of as reasoning can easily be rationalizing.  But no matter if used for evil or for good – or somewhere in between – storytelling is central to our lives.

Lastly, Steinhauer seems to be saying something about empire.  The Tourist is a cynical and stoic work.  (In fact, Milo seems to me like the quintessential stoic in the mold of Marcus Aurelius. He comes to see balance as the key to mental health, etc.)  The book depicts a world where greed and the need for power result in violence and manipulation on a grand scale and this has a corrosive effect on the people touched by it.

Steinhauer seems to hint that the desire to form an empire, or defend one, both causes American to act in the same way and in ways counter to her founding ideals.  In essence, we are Milo the husband and father and his Tourism is the part we hope doesn’t exists or don’t want to know about.  Or perhaps I am reading too much into things on this one.

Well, enough of my musings.  I hope the above makes clear why I am a fan of Steinhauer’s work and encourages you to pick up The Tourist.  It is a perfect example of why the blending of genre elements with a more literary style can be so rewarding.  You get the entertainment value of a thriller without sacrificing the writing quality or the wrestling with ideas.  There are always trade-offs in any attempt to blend genres and styles, but Steinhauer pulls it off more often than not in my opinion.

Here’s hoping readers of The Tourist will finally bring him the wider audience he deserves.