If anything this is grimier than The Spy Who Came In From The Cold (it's immediate predecessor, I believe). On top of the dirty business of espionage, the main characters are quite clearly incompetent, yet proud with it (it's somewhat reminiscent of the old Fry and Laurie sketches about a cosy spy ring, but with a think layer of hubris spread over). That may sounds like it should be amusing, but it's anything but - it's sad and a bit frightening (I must say, if I'd been reading these books during the Cold War, I'm sure my enjoyment would have been tempered by a paranoid chill of assumed recognition).

Again, fascinating to read for the descriptions of the UK in the early 60s, this book also introduces a whole spectrum of snobbery. Everyone has someone else to look down upon; sometimes this hierarchy is somewhat understandable, other times it is opaque, but it is absorbing. While the UK is still class-ridden in some ways, this book - better than any Evelyn Waugh or writer of his ilk - demonstrates quite clearly, throughout society what class meant, when it still did really mean something.

The plot has some similarities to The Spy Who Came In From The Cold - an initiating incident, then long build-up to something resembling action. The characters are beautifully depicted, and the politics of the plot are played out very subtly. Occasionally, the dialogue seemed a little florid, but that's a minor quibble. In fact, the more I think about this book, the more I like it. It doesn't quite have the 'perfectly-formed' quality of its predecessor, but it has a subtle complexity and rich context which makes it very rewarding.