Silverview         

Author: John Le Carré

Publisher: Viking

American release date: October 12, 2021

Format/Genre/Length: Hardback/Espionage/224 pages

Overall Personal Rating: ★★★★★

 

Julian has left life in the big city to run his own bookshop in a small English seaside town. After a chance visit from a local resident, Edward Avon, aka Teddy, he learns that Avon was a friend of his father and had worked with him at one time. Edward is a very agreeable fellow and is delighted to share his ideas with the younger man, including plans for a sort of literary paradise to be located in the basement of the shop. And thus the idea for the Republic of Literature is born.

Unsure of just how to take Edward, Julian questions another shopkeeper, Celia, who is very fond of Edward, and gives him a great deal of information. Edward’s wife is very ill, and she and Teddy aren’t on the best of terms. Her late father bequeathed her a great deal of money, as well as the house now known as Silverview. Teddy changed the name after he became fascinated by Nietzsche. The couple have a daughter named Lily.

Stewart Proctor receives a letter from the daughter of one of his agents. The information it contains is very disturbing, and so he begins his own investigation to check into the accusations contained therein. In the meantime, Teddy has graciously installed computers in the future Republic and has begun to search for just the right books they will need to fill its shelves when the time comes.

Proctor uses the cover story of using retired agents as potential training instructors for future hires to questions them on various subjects. In particular, a spy whose code name was Florian, who was active during the Bosnian crisis and who was deeply affected by events that happened then.

The more Julian learns about Edward, the less he knows. He meets his dying wife Deborah, herself once an agent, and their daughter Lily. There is some sort of spark between him and Lily… maybe.  But as events begin to unfold, Julian finds himself in the middle of something he never dreamed he’d ever be a part of.

John Le Carre’s SIlverview is like a tapestry. It starts out with a number of loose threads, but as you keep reading the threads begin to wind themselves about one another until they form a picture. It’s a fascinating story about spies as people, and some of the aftermath of their experiences and how those affect them.  I like Julian and found him an astute and sympathetic observer, but the true star of this book is Edward, aka “Teddy”, aka Florian. A very likeable and complex man whose life of professional deception has carried over into his actual personal life, to the point where it’s hard to tell where one leaves off and the other begins. Is he who he seems to be? Was he ever?

If the ending isn’t quite as clear-cut as one might like, well, that’s life. It’s clear enough to those who are left behind. After all, life doesn’t always wrap up nicely and neatly, much as we wish it might. But we have a clear idea of what lies ahead for the characters we’ve come to care about. Can one ask for anything more?

John Le Carre is truly the master of spy fiction, and I think his final work is a testament to his craft and well worth reading.

My Sexy Saturday #12: A Special Christmas

Happy Saturday everyone! I'm back with some more Sexy Saturday goodness! This week my seven sentences comes from my latest release, A Special Christmas, which was just released by Torquere Press. Set during the Prohibition era, it's the story of two young men, one Italian,  one Greek, who meet in a speakeasy in Romeoville and let nature take its course. To find the rest of this blog hop, go here.

Enjoy!

Nick didn't know just how it came about, but he felt his hand nestled inside of Florian's, both hands resting lightly on the table between them. Florian didn't seem to think anything wrong with that; how could Nick snatch his hand back? He couldn't. And he didn't really want to. No one was taking notice of them. It was dark. They were among strangers. All sorts of excuses flowed through his head. 

Six Sentence Sunday #3

Last week, I gave you something from my Halloween tale, Leonardo di Caprio is a Vampire. This week, I'm going with more of a Christmas theme. It's hard to believe it's only two months away!  The name of my story is A Special Christmas, and it takes place in Prohibition era Illinois, in the Chicago area. Florian is Italian by birth. He works in his family's dry cleaning business, and he has met Al Capone. Nick is a Greek immigrant who lives with his aunt and uncle and cousin, and works with his cousin in his uncle's pharmacy. Chance brings them both to the same speakeasy in Romeoville on Christmas Eve.

His eyes were fixed on Florian's beautiful mouth, even as he wondered what he would taste like. Like the drink they'd shared? Or something more?

But before he could find out, the lights of the speakeasy began to unaccountably flash, blinking off and on in rapid succession. He heard a voice behind them cry out, "Cheese it, the cops!"

Then bedlam ensued.

Blurb:  Christmas is coming to Prohibition era Chicago, and two young immigrants are about to have their world rocked.  When Florian and Nick meet by chance in a speakeasy in Romeoville, their worlds will never be the same.  Is it Chance, or has Destiny brought them together?

Excerpt: Florian Donati could charm any woman with a single glance. One flutter of his fabulous baby blues was enough to induce cardiac arrest among the strongest females. One warm glance could halt all traffic within a thirty yard radius, never mind that disarming smile. His lips alone could make a nun regret her vows of chastity. Black wavy hair, free from artificial intervention, and a dimpled chin completed the perfection that was the twenty-year old Florian.

Florian remained blissfully unaware of his charms, for he was possessed of an almost child-like innocence, set within the body of a god. He was graced with a sweet and generous disposition, and the patience of a saint. As well as an undying love for the greatest singer who'd ever lived — the late Enrico Caruso.

When Caruso died, in August of 1921, the sixteen-year-old Florian had been devastated. He'd wanted to attend the funeral, in order to pay his respects. But that was logistically impossible, as services had been held in Naples, in the old country, home to his family for many generations. So Florian had to content himself with holding a private memorial service at the dry cleaners which his family owned and where he worked, in Cicero, Illinois. The only other person in attendance also worked there — his co-worker and friend, Loria.

The Donati family were long-time friends of Johnny Torrio — and in Cicero, that meant a great deal. The crime lord had been instrumental in their being in the dry cleaning business. He had brought them from New York with him where he had given them the funds for their first store —Donati's Dry Cleaning Emporium, on South Whicker— and they were very grateful to him. He helped them to buy the store in Cicero, and recommended the establishment to all of his colleagues. When circumstances forced Torrio into taking early retirement in 1925 (after nearly being killed by a would-be assassin, he decided that Florida possessed a certain charm), his business interests became the domain of his associate, the amiable and well-dressed Alphonse Capone. And just as Capone inherited Torrio's territory, so did the Donatis inherit Capone's dry cleaning.

The silver bell attached to the shop door tinkled whenever it was opened, signaling the advent of a customer. During the summer, the front door, as well as the back, remained open, mostly due to the heat from the equipment in the back room where the actual cleaning and pressing was done. This heat would build up until it virtually flooded every nook and cranny of the emporium with an intense warmth that was almost infernal. But during the winter, the store provided a welcome respite from the fierce Midwestern cold without.

Florian did not work the equipment, although he'd been around it all of his life. That was Loria's job. She also waited on the customers who came into the store, took their clothes and tagged them, checking them carefully for rips and tears, loose buttons that might otherwise meet an untimely end if not taken care of, and she supervised the dry cleaning that was actually going on in the back. She retrieved the clean clothes for returning customers, and she took their money. Florian's job was to keep the floor swept and the windows clean, keep fresh flowers upon the counter, and to help Loria with heavy lifting should she require his assistance. But his primary duty was to radiate sunshine, to make the customers feel at home — and to sing. Although he was no Caruso, and he had no desire to follow in his idol's illustrious footsteps, he had a sweet untrained voice, somewhere in the baritone range, and he was the delight of everyone that stepped foot inside Donati's.

Loria had been bugging him all morning about his singing. Not that she disliked it, far from it. She loved to hear her friend sing, she would listen to him twenty-four hours a day if she could. No, it was nothing against his ability to carry a tune; it was his choice of material. For here it was, almost Christmas, and he refused to sing any Christmas carols, preferring instead to favor her either with selections from his favorite operas, or with the Italian melodies he had grown up with.

"Uccello," she protested, leaning against the counter, watching him sweep the already immaculate floor. He was such a perfectionist. Uccello was the nickname he had acquired as a young child, when first he began to sing. Uccello canterino bello. Pretty songbird. "Uccello, just a little something for Christmas, for me?" The thirty-something blonde reached out as he came within reach and punched his shoulder lightly, in her typical Loria manner.

Florian was an accommodating guy, but he also had a bit of a mischievous streak in him. In fact, he was a very playful fellow. Pausing in his work, he wound his arms about the broom, as if it were a lover, and began to serenade her in his native tongue.

"Sul mare luccica, l'astro d'argento," he crooned, his beautiful blue eyes so expressive that Loria seemed about to cry. He sang to her of the sea, and the wind, and a silver star. By the time he got to the chorus, his heartfelt "Santa Lucia" did indeed bring tears to her eyes. She wiped at them unabashedly with the corner of her work apron. This was the nature of their relationship — nothing romantic, simple friendship. At times, Loria was like a second mother to Florian, having known him since he was just a boy.

The shop bell tinkled, but Florian continued to sing. He was used to an audience, and most of the customers were used to his singing, never interrupting his arias for something so crass as business. They invariably preferred that he finish before they proceeded. This customer was no exception.

Only when the last note was reverberating through the cozy shop, did he turn to find himself the object of admiration of a swarthy, elegantly dressed man. This man was flanked by two others in dark suits, obviously subordinates. Their professional glance never stopped moving about the shop, as if they were anticipating an ambush. The jagged scar, which cut diagonally across the first man's cheek, made his identity a surety.

Link:  https://silverpublishing.info/product_book_info/glbt-historical-c-53_55/a-special-christmas-p-138

Now go see what else is going on for Six Sentence Sunday!

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie

Backlist Bloghop - we need a little Christmas!

We need a little Christmas, right this very minute, candles in the window, carols at the spinet....

Well, that may be from Mame, but hey, it's still true! Sometimes you need a little Christmas, even in the middle of summer. So how fortuitous that Michael Mandrake, aka my friend Sharita, is having a backlist bloghop! For my part, I'm offering a copy of A Special Christmas. Let me tell you a little bit about it...

On January 16, 1920, over the veto of President Woodrow Wilson, an exercise in futility became law when the 18th Amendment, commonly known as the Volstead Act, took effect in the United States. It prohibited the sale and manufacture of intoxicating alcoholic beverages. The Webb-Kellogg Act, which came later, prevented its transportation. Interestingly, the actual use of alcohol was not prevented. Referred to by some as the Noble Experiment, this era is commonly known simply as Prohibition.

Immediately after Prohibition began, the criminal element saw a way of making a great deal of money from the new law by supplying a demand which had not disappeared simply because it was now illegal. The country's major gangsters, such as Tom Dennison in Omaha and Al Capone in Chicago, not only grew wealthy from bootlegging, but gained the admiration of many people, both locally and nationally, acquiring the status of heroes.

Ordinary citizens wanting to drink, despite the prohibition of said drinking, went to secret establishments known as speakeasies; they were also called blind pigs. Those in higher socio-economic circles held cocktail parties. By 1926, more and more people were sympathetic to the bootleggers and their cause — the population wanted their liquor back.

In 1926, interesting things were happening in the world — Gertrude Ederle became the first woman to swim the English Channel; Hirohito was crowned Emperor of Japan; Benito Mussolini gained control of Italy; US Route 66 was created, which ran from Chicago to Los Angeles; and Henry Ford announced the forty-hour work week.

Also, as the year drew to a close, and Christmas approached, two young men who lived near Chicago —Florian Donati and Nick Giannakopoulos— were about to meet, and their lives would never be the same again.

Blurb:  

Christmas is coming to Prohibition era Chicago, and two young immigrants are about to have their world rocked.  When Florian and Nick meet by chance in a speakeasy in Romeoville, their worlds will never be the same.  Is it Chance, or has Destiny brought them together?

Excerpt:

Florian Donati could charm any woman with a single glance. One flutter of his fabulous baby blues was enough to induce cardiac arrest among the strongest females. One warm glance could halt all traffic within a thirty yard radius, never mind that disarming smile. His lips alone could make a nun regret her vows of chastity. Black wavy hair, free from artificial intervention, and a dimpled chin completed the perfection that was the twenty-year old Florian.

Florian remained blissfully unaware of his charms, for he was possessed of an almost child-like innocence, set within the body of a god. He was graced with a sweet and generous disposition, and the patience of a saint. As well as an undying love for the greatest singer who'd ever lived — the late Enrico Caruso.

When Caruso died, in August of 1921, the sixteen-year-old Florian had been devastated. He'd wanted to attend the funeral, in order to pay his respects. But that was logistically impossible, as services had been held in Naples, in the old country, home to his family for many generations. So Florian had to content himself with holding a private memorial service at the dry cleaners which his family owned and where he worked, in Cicero, Illinois. The only other person in attendance also worked there — his co-worker and friend, Loria.

The Donati family were long-time friends of Johnny Torrio — and in Cicero, that meant a great deal. The crime lord had been instrumental in their being in the dry cleaning business. He had brought them from New York with him where he had given them the funds for their first store —Donati's Dry Cleaning Emporium, on South Whicker— and they were very grateful to him. He helped them to buy the store in Cicero, and recommended the establishment to all of his colleagues. When circumstances forced Torrio into taking early retirement in 1925 (after nearly being killed by a would-be assassin, he decided that Florida possessed a certain charm), his business interests became the domain of his associate, the amiable and well-dressed Alphonse Capone. And just as Capone inherited Torrio's territory, so did the Donatis inherit Capone's dry cleaning.

The silver bell attached to the shop door tinkled whenever it was opened, signaling the advent of a customer. During the summer, the front door, as well as the back, remained open, mostly due to the heat from the equipment in the back room where the actual cleaning and pressing was done. This heat would build up until it virtually flooded every nook and cranny of the emporium with an intense warmth that was almost infernal. But during the winter, the store provided a welcome respite from the fierce Midwestern cold without.

Florian did not work the equipment, although he'd been around it all of his life. That was Loria's job. She also waited on the customers who came into the store, took their clothes and tagged them, checking them carefully for rips and tears, loose buttons that might otherwise meet an untimely end if not taken care of, and she supervised the dry cleaning that was actually going on in the back. She retrieved the clean clothes for returning customers, and she took their money. Florian's job was to keep the floor swept and the windows clean, keep fresh flowers upon the counter, and to help Loria with heavy lifting should she require his assistance. But his primary duty was to radiate sunshine, to make the customers feel at home — and to sing. Although he was no Caruso, and he had no desire to follow in his idol's illustrious footsteps, he had a sweet untrained voice, somewhere in the baritone range, and he was the delight of everyone that stepped foot inside Donati's.

Loria had been bugging him all morning about his singing. Not that she disliked it, far from it. She loved to hear her friend sing, she would listen to him twenty-four hours a day if she could. No, it was nothing against his ability to carry a tune; it was his choice of material. For here it was, almost Christmas, and he refused to sing any Christmas carols, preferring instead to favor her either with selections from his favorite operas, or with the Italian melodies he had grown up with.

"Uccello," she protested, leaning against the counter, watching him sweep the already immaculate floor. He was such a perfectionist. Uccello was the nickname he had acquired as a young child, when first he began to sing. Uccello canterino bello. Pretty songbird. "Uccello, just a little something for Christmas, for me?" The thirty-something blonde reached out as he came within reach and punched his shoulder lightly, in her typical Loria manner.

Florian was an accommodating guy, but he also had a bit of a mischievous streak in him. In fact, he was a very playful fellow. Pausing in his work, he wound his arms about the broom, as if it were a lover, and began to serenade her in his native tongue.

"Sul mare luccica, l'astro d'argento," he crooned, his beautiful blue eyes so expressive that Loria seemed about to cry. He sang to her of the sea, and the wind, and a silver star. By the time he got to the chorus, his heartfelt "Santa Lucia" did indeed bring tears to her eyes. She wiped at them unabashedly with the corner of her work apron. This was the nature of their relationship — nothing romantic, simple friendship. At times, Loria was like a second mother to Florian, having known him since he was just a boy.

The shop bell tinkled, but Florian continued to sing. He was used to an audience, and most of the customers were used to his singing, never interrupting his arias for something so crass as business. They invariably preferred that he finish before they proceeded. This customer was no exception.

Only when the last note was reverberating through the cozy shop, did he turn to find himself the object of admiration of a swarthy, elegantly dressed man. This man was flanked by two others in dark suits, obviously subordinates. Their professional glance never stopped moving about the shop, as if they were anticipating an ambush. The jagged scar, which cut diagonally across the first man's cheek, made his identity a surety.

Link:    

https://silverpublishing.info/product_book_info/glbt-historical-c-53_55/a-special-christmas-p-138


Two lucky commenters will win a copy of A Special Christmas! Just be sure to comment by the end of this weekend. Because of the Labor day Holiday, that will be Monday night!

Now, go check out the other participants in this Blog Hop!


Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie