Fever and Spear by Javier Marías
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Not Smiley's People

Four themes in different keys. The question is whether there is harmony or discord.

Opening with an over-scrupulous Proustian introduction, the protagonist, Deza, considers the disintegration of his marriage. He tries to formulate a theory of the case, to name the cause, as it were. He declares that "things only exist once they have been named." But names, particularly proper names, are an issue for him. Deza is variously Jaime, Jacobo, Jacques, and Jack depending on the company he keeps. The reader is forewarned that "A very thin line separates facts from imaginings...because imaginings are already facts." It's not a surprise therefore that Deza muses “...no one should trust me either."

Deza observes himself (apparently) rather critically, but he also has the capacity for prophetic judgement of others. Thus his Holmesian ability to suss out the bona fides of a variety of people for the mysterious figure of Tupra who is the central pillar of the second theme. Tupra's business interests aren't at all clear to Deza but not obviously shady enough to scare the latter off. Sherlock without the integrity.

The third story is a mystery involving the disappearance of a (real) Spanish Communist and the assassination of Deza's uncle during the Spanish Civil War. These events are also linked to the unexplained betrayal of his father in Franco Spain. Much is made of the connection with the James Bond figure of Ian Fleming's From Russia With Love, in which book there appear to be significant references to at least the first event.

Finally, there is the tale of Wheeler, the emeritus Oxford don, who, like a character out of Le Carre's Smiley's People, is an old hand in the British Secret Service. Wheeler also has some problems with name-stability. He, too, has had some vague involvement with the Spanish Civil War but on whose side and to accomplish what end?

The title comes from a comment half-way through made by Deza in an attempt to explain his father's betrayal. "How can I not know today your face tomorrow...?" he says. In other words: Isn't the real character of a person obvious long before he acts? Shouldn't one be able to see betrayal before any overt act to betray? One might assume therefore that this is the central theme that brings the four complex threads together.

But Marias then throws a rather hefty body blow to the reader who might be struggling with his complexity. "There is nothing worse than looking for a meaning or believing there is one." Deza says about two-thirds through. Not all that encouraging is it?

Clearly Marias is an accomplished stylist. This shows even in translation. He can roam from Proustian meditation to Bond-like adventure. But the shifts can become somewhat disconcerting and ultimately even tedious.

Definitely Schoenberg rather than Elgar.

View all my reviews