I’m not sure reacquainting myself with Eric Ambler’s Judgment on Deltchev was the smartest practical means of dealing with a blue funk….but it has reconfirmed my belief in it belonging with the great, unsettling tradition of espionage/security state novels that do more than thrill: with The Princess Casamassima and Under Western Eyes and Bend Sinister, then.
From Chapter Fourteen, on the affect of “leaks” in a free state (a subject not without interest these days, when spin and counter-spin compete so furiously that merely keeping up with the fundamental narratives would require abstinence from all other normal human behavior, including sleep, forget the additional effort involved in trying to decide which are “true”):
It is, I find, extraordinarily embarrassing to be described in print as a member of the British secret service. The trouble is that you cannot afterwards convince people that you are not. They reason that if you are a member you will still presumably have to say that you are not. You are suspect. If you say nothing, of course, you admit all.
(Eric Ambler, Judgment on Deltchev, 1951)
Well, merry freakin’ Christmas to you too!