The Madness Of July

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It makes sense it was.written by a.journalist - it was.forensic, detailed and obviously polished but sadly dull and forgettable. None of the characters seemed real or believable, no one did any work and the women were cliches. Happy days,’ he said, and realized that he had spoken louder than he’d meant to. A barrow boy on the corner laughed, unbuttoning his shirt and scratching himself in the heat. Flemyng raised a hand in friendly farewell and hurried across Oxford Street, which he disliked more than any other in London, striking westwards for a few minutes. He looked at the sign on the corner. Harley Street, Sam’s choice. Just in case, Flemyng carried on to the next turning, where his discipline faltered for a moment. At the last, when he should be keeping on the move, he paused. It cannot be said too often that the thriller is not a loose, capacious form into which anything can be thrown as long as you remember to have a dead body and a conspiracy. Its conventions exist for solid reasons that are no less noble for being commercial. ( Lee Child doesn't write the way he does because he is technically incapable of producing "literary" prose.) If you don't intend to respect them, fine – just don't call what you've written a thriller. Summer crowds swarmed and chattered around him, yet for Flemyng the winding down of the dog days brought claustrophobia, and the contrary suspicion that he was adrift on a wide sea with a spreading horizon, maybe lost. Despite the status he had achieved and the famous confidence that was his shadow, he felt creeping over him the fear that Sam had stirred up.

I thought that I might be comparing it too much to Le Carré so left it for a while and started again but it was like homework. Masterfully weaving together espionage, political intrigue, and family drama, James Naughtie has written a spy novel for the ages, worthy of comparison to the finest work of Charles McCarry and Robert Littell. The first thing you'll notice (between metaphorical nail biting) is the language. This is a rare thing: a spy novel that can maintain excitement while employing moments of mellifluous phrasing that almost melt on the tongue and demand to be read aloud. MLA style: "The Madness of July.." The Free Library. 2014 Midwest Book Review 26 Nov. 2023 https://www.thefreelibrary.com/The+Madness+of+July.-a0386436667 That meant there was danger, and his second encounter came less than three minutes after Lucy disappeared.

Further Reading: If this appeals, then you'll also love A Delicate Truth by John le Carre about another government employee who has to return to the past he thinks is well behind him. but it was grim. Despite some lovely descriptions of the Highlands it was slow, melodramatic and not at all enhanced by the style of the narrator ( it was also odd the way he changed accent with the geography of the plot rather than just with each character..) surely an editor could have suggested that there was a little more show and alot less tell? every thought, motive and reaction was detailed - perhaps that would work as notes for a film script but it left nothing to the imagination. I dont know any.siblings who dont interrupt , over talk, spar and compete. The brothers talk to one.another Iike geriatric strangers playing chess. As an avid Radio 4 man in the morning, I admire James Naughtie's pithy celtic observations on politics on the Today Programme. So I was very keen to listen to this novel set in '70s British politics. There is so much potential in the era and in his deep understanding of what he calls "The Game". A friendly voice, welcome in any other circumstances. No one he knew, and no one who knew him, because there was no giveaway smile. A guy on the street in helpful mood, no more. An innocent.

There are some lyrical passages, especially describing Scotland, and some deft touches where the relationships between the three brothers are concerned. Overall, though, I felt this reached well beyond the capacity of the author to deliver. Chicago style: The Free Library. S.v. The Madness of July.." Retrieved Nov 26 2023 from https://www.thefreelibrary.com/The+Madness+of+July.-a0386436667

Some of this may be intentional. The novel's driving conceit is that parliamentary democracy is a piece of self-regulating machinery, a bit like the orrery that its main character, foreign office minister Will Flemyng, played with as a child, its brass planets and moons "[weaving] their courses in perpetual peace". The system works well enough as long as it is left alone and not destabilised by scandal or terrorism or emotional excess. But in any case, Naughtie seems to imply, government is run at a deeper level by the intelligence services to the point where it scarcely matters who won the last election. The concrete world of briefings and debates is an illusion, so why dwell on it? verifyErrors }}{{ message }}{{ /verifyErrors }}{{ He laughed and his eyes gave Flemyng a slinky scan from top to toe, unblinking. He seemed to balance his weight on one foot in an ugly pirouette, drops of sweat springing from his broad brow. His cream shirt was too heavy for the heat, and he wore a purple brocade tie. ‘What brings you out in the sun?’ he said, and didn’t wait for an answer. Swinging round, he gave a merry wave and steadily climbed the steps to his club. There was a rattle of glass from the tall door as it closed behind him. We are, I’m glad to say, little brother. And all the better for hearing you.’ His voice was reassuring. The sun was on the hill, the bees in the lavender. All calm. They spoke for a minute about the heat, stifling London and the cooling shimmer on the loch at home, before Mungo said, ‘You are still coming north, aren’t you?’ His change of tone betrayed a suspicion that something had gone wrong.