The Spy Who Died of Boredom
Registered by catsalive of Rooty Hill, New South Wales Australia on 5/27/2005
This Book is Currently in the Wild!
1 journaler for this copy...
"Are you Arkady Dimitrievich Nikitin?" asks one of the two fearsome KGB men at the door.
"No, I am his mother," the old lady replies.
So begins Arkady's recruitment to the spying profession he admires so much. But it seems rather inauspicious. Surely such visitations are made at 5 in the morning, not at 2.30 in the afternoon?
During his two-month crash course in Moscow, Arkady becomes more and more disillusioned: spying is clearly nothing like the adventures recounted in the bootlegged James Bond books he reads with surreptitious excitement.
Nevertheless, even industrial espionage, which is to be Arkady's speciality, turns out to be quite promising. The way to a businessman's secrets is via his secretary, and the way to her confidence, Arkady is instructed, is via her bed, and seduction is an art in which Arkady needs no tutoring...
"No, I am his mother," the old lady replies.
So begins Arkady's recruitment to the spying profession he admires so much. But it seems rather inauspicious. Surely such visitations are made at 5 in the morning, not at 2.30 in the afternoon?
During his two-month crash course in Moscow, Arkady becomes more and more disillusioned: spying is clearly nothing like the adventures recounted in the bootlegged James Bond books he reads with surreptitious excitement.
Nevertheless, even industrial espionage, which is to be Arkady's speciality, turns out to be quite promising. The way to a businessman's secrets is via his secretary, and the way to her confidence, Arkady is instructed, is via her bed, and seduction is an art in which Arkady needs no tutoring...
Journal Entry 2 by catsalive from Rooty Hill, New South Wales Australia on Wednesday, August 30, 2006
I found the book a bit boring. It should have been amusing but I don't think I was in the right mood. Pretty weel-written though.