| In broad strokes -
a young agent facing betrayal on every side infiltrates a group of
Islamic extremists intent on terrorist outrage in Manhattan-The Poet
Game sounds routine, if timely enough to cause a jolt or two (an
accident of publishing, this: the novel appeared in the USA in, from
what I can make out, 1999). What makes it singular is its point of
view: Sami Amir works for The Outfit, a "really small"
Iranian counter-intelligence group opposed to the "bearded
Koran-toting messengers of God". Islamic terrorism in the
States will harden attitudes on both sides, so Sami's job,
apparently, is to find out what's happening and put a stop to it,
and though he's better versed in translation than espionage, and out
of his depth in America ("never sat inside of a bar, never
ordered a drink from a barman"), he muddles through with the
help of a sympathetic, handgun-wielding poet and part-time stripper
called Ellena, while treacheries pile up around him. There are
obvious comparisons to early le Carre-it's his own people Sami has
to watch out for-but Greene comes to mind too: in the paranoia, and
the shades of moral ambiguity. It doesn't matter whose side you're
on when they're both as bad as each other. And though there are
chilling moments ("Do you realize," Sami is asked, "what
the remotest possibility of another bombing like the World Trade
Center would do to public opinion here?") the book's better
than its accidental relevance. Abdoh captures the grime and
murkiness of undercover operations: this is a dark and nervy work.
As far as outcomes go, in such a downbeat thriller, it was never
likely that the denouement was going to mirror actual events, but
that's no bad thing. I shudder to think how many top-that thrillers
are being written in the wake of 9/11, but not many of them will be
as intelligent as this. |
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