The Ipcress File

The movie inspired by Len Deighton (LD)'s The Ipcress File (TIF), first published in 1962, starred a very young Michael Caine as the nameless hero, who is modelled to some extent on his creator. TIF is written in the I-form (first person singular) and readers are therefore dragged into this person's universe. At the start of the book he is transferred from the UK War Office to an undercover counter-intelligence unit. His preferred consumables (Blue Mountain coffee, Gauloises cigarettes) suggest he has been abroad, during and after WW II. Despite his lack of a classical education (Eton, Oxbridge) he stands his ground against colleagues who did. At times he is insolent, flippant, ironic, sarcastic, and gradually, scared. Because strange things are happening: UK scientists are disappearing and are being moved across the Iron Curtain. In the US, sensitive research data are leaked at an alarming speed and magnitude. What is going on? That is for the reader to find out. The book's venues are London and its periphery, Lebanon and the Tokwe atoll in the Pacific, a nuclear test site. TIF was LDs debut at the age of 40. He has published some 40 books since then, mostly on espionage during WW II and the Cold War (with 3 trilogies about spy Bernard Samson). His main interests in life show up in his debut:(1)the nameless hero is a military history buff; LD later on published a number of highly acclaimed books on WW II;(2) reflecting the hero's fondness for good food, LD wrote cookbooks;(3)the hero being a technology fan, LD's future books always remained at the forefront of espionage writing. But fortunately, technology never dominates, not now, not later. TIF is prescient on the use of computers, ultra-high speed transmission, new uses of B-52 bombers and submarines, etc. TIF is a wonderful debut of a man who equals Le Carré in terms of atmosphere and English class issues, but sweeps him briskly aside on modern technology and its uses. A very influential debut.

Deighton's debut is a decidedly sardonic (but not jokey) spy tale that delivers wit and action even while whole sections of it are simply incomprehensible. However, the very things that make it so quirky and dated are also what make it fascinating. There's almost a Beat aesthetic at work. And the plot is much more globe-trotting than the Caine movie. I'm not sure why to this day people refer to the unnamed hero of the book as "Harry Palmer" his screen name and not Aquarius his astrological sign that opens most chapters.

This was at the beginning of cold war spy stories with double-crosses and double double crosses and moles, and was one of the first to inject humor. We had already had some of Le Carre, and James Bond and Our Man in Havana. I just re-read it after forty years and it still seems fresh and original. My copy has the price tag of 60 cents. The plot is so ingenious that it's difficult to follow, and there's a long explanation at the end which still leaves a few loose ends if you want to pick nits. It goes fom London to the Lebanon, to a Pacific island and to Hungary (maybe) but the fact that it's first person narrative helps to keep the flow smooth. Later on I think Deighton grew repetitious, and even repeated some of his jokes. Does anyone know Palmer's military rank? He gets addressed as Colonel at one point.

As "The Sunday Times" first branded Len Deighton when this book came out, he is indeed the poet of the spy story. This was the first of the so-called "Harry Palmer" books which was the name given to his fictional hero when the movies came out. Although this isn't the best Len Deighton book (I reserve that praise for "Funeral in Berlin") it is still a splendid piece of work. Deighton's use of language although slightly tiring sometimes is still a pleasure to read. His witty comments about the characters in the book is a real treat. He is probably the funniest writer in spy fiction and definetely one of the funniest writers around. When Mr. Deighton wrote this book, the James Bond craze was going on, but people began to appreciate "Harry Palmer" and to them was an alternative to James Bond. "Palmer" is not smooth, suave, rich(he often spends half of his day pouring over his bills), or particularly handsome. But what he is not, he more than makes up for in his talent, ability and cunning. The tale is one of disappearing scientists, going over(or is being kidnapped and thrown over) the other side of the Berlin Wall. An unnamed middle-class spy("Palmer") having been transferred to a department called WOOC(P) is put on the case along with his colleagues from WOOC(P) who are small in number. The disappearances are linked with a man code-named Jay. "Palmer"'s adventure starts of very excitingly but you may think that it loses steam mid-way. It does not. I reccomend this only to readers with patience and a good memory. You may feel bored mid-way through the book and might decide to give it up. Don't. There is more coming up. Don't lose faith or hope. Have faith in Deighton and let him guide you through it. You will not be disapponted. At the end of the book, to understand what has happened you must recall a few of what you may feel are minor incidents and this is where good memory steps into the equation. "Palmer" may seem very ordinary and boring but you will only see his intelligence and remarkable talent later on. It may feel as if the book is just going down a deep bottomless pit, in that you may find it a very large bore and will want to give it up. Don't. This is simply Deighton letting the book mature. And then all of a sudden BANG! there is a big supermassive explosion and you find yourself hooked and compelled to go onto the next page. I highly rate this book. Read it with full attention right 'til the end and you will not regret. What seems to be inconsequential may be a turning point, so pay attention! 10 stars!

Another dissent from the "1" rating below; Len Deighton's first four books (this one, Funeral in Berlin, The Billion Dollar Brain, An Expensive Place to Die) are all very enjoyable. It's true that Deighton appears to draw about equally from Raymond Chandler and Graham Greene, but those are great places to steal from. (Unfortunately, I think Deighton went steeply downhill after these books.)