Mexico Set is book 2 of Len Deighton’s highly acclaimed Bernard Sampson British spy series. Written as a trilogy … bk1 Berlin Game … bk2 Mexico Set … bk3 London Match, and later continued to 10 books. Having read bk1 & bk2, and recently stumbled on bk2 in my kindle shelves… it seemed mandatory to complete…Game, Set & Match. And while liking Berlin & London books much, Mexico now my favorite, and has me interested in reading the series further- hopefully in the order written?
The book opens and concludes in Mexico, aka Mexico City, early 1980’s. Yet the majority of the story unfolds in London and Berlin. It is Mexico however -set in the author’s mind that takes priority of place. Here’s the author’s forward… “Berlin Game with its dénouement set the scene. After that Mexico Set used arguments, anger and confidences to reveal new sides of the characters and their shifting attitudes to each other. Many important characters arrive in subsequent volumes but by the end of this book all the stars are on the stage. Yet in this book – and I know this is going to sound corny – Mexico is the star. It is a wonderful country, its cruel landscape tormented by its amazing weather patterns.” … “most writers take manners and gestures and other bits and pieces from the people they meet, they steal slices from the landscape, relive the pain and joy of their experience. In this way the writer pushes beyond reality in pursuit of some sort of truth.” Len Deighton, 2010
I took an abundance of highlights in my reading -visible on Goodreads. I will provide a sampling below… but I encourage your reading Deighton, in some order or other. He’s really good at it.
Mexico [City] Peddlers… “flourishing his newspapers with the controlled abandon of a fan dancer. ‘Six Face Firing Squad’; the headlines were huge and shiny black. ‘Hurricane Threatens Veracruz.’ A smudgy photo of street fighting in San Salvador covered the whole front of a tabloid.” … “ six lanes of traffic crawling along the Insurgentes halted, and more newsboys danced into the road, together with a woman selling flowers and a kid with lottery tickets trailing from a roll like toilet paper.” … “It was very hot. I opened the window but the sudden stink of diesel fumes made me close it again. I held my hand against the air-conditioning outlet but the air was warm. Again the fire-eater blew a huge orange balloon of flame into the air.” — “In any town north of the border this factory-fresh car would not have drawn a second glance. But Mexico City is the place old cars go to die. Most of those around us were dented and rusty, or they were crudely repainted in bright primary colours.”
Mexican Assigned “Companion” by London office. “Dicky Cruyer was a curious mixture of scholarship and ruthless ambition, but he was insensitive, and this was often his undoing. His insensitivity to people, place and atmosphere could make him seem a clown instead of the cool sophisticate that was his own image of himself.” … ‘Muy complicado,’ — ‘Muy bloody complicado’ … Touring. “broken pottery figurines that a handwritten notice said were ancient Olmec. Dicky passed it to me and walked on. I put it back on the ground with the other junk. I had too many broken fragments in my life already.” — “carnitas?’ ‘Stewed pork. He’s serving it on chicharrones: pork crackling. You eat the meat, then eat the plate. Dicky could always surprise me. Just as I had decided he was the archetypal gringo tourist, he wanted to have lunch at a fonda.” Surroundings. “ two-stroke motorcycles and cars with broken mufflers and giant trucks – some so carefully painted up that every bolt-head, rivet and wheel-nut was picked out in different colours. Here on the city’s outskirts, the wide boulevard was lined with a chaos of broken walls, goats grazing on waste ground, adobe huts, rubbish tips, crudely painted shop-fronts in primary colours and corrugated-iron fences defaced with political slogans and ribaldry.”
Bernie meets Zena, Werner’s young East German wife. “she still had that fundamental insecurity that one bout of poverty can inflict for a lifetime, and no amount of money remedy… she showed no great interest in the plight of the hungry. And like so many poor people she had only contempt for socialism in any of its various forms, for it is only the rich and guilty who can afford the subtle delights of egalitarian philosophies. — she’d inherited a nostalgia for a Germany of long ago. It was a Protestant Germany of aristocrats and Handküsse, silvery Zeppelins and student duels. It was a kultiviertes Germany of music, industry, science and literature; an imperial Germany ruled from the great cosmopolitan city of Berlin by efficient, incorruptible Prussians. It was a Germany she’d never seen; a Germany that had never existed.”
Target - Russian Berlin lead op. “And yet, for all that, Stinnes had the quick intelligent eyes and tough self-confidence that makes a man attractive to his fellow humans. — I had the feeling he believed me and was proud to be starred by London. This was probably the right way to tackle him. It would be like a love affair; and Stinnes had reached that dangerous age when a man was only susceptible to an innocent little cutie or to an experienced floozy. And the stock-in-trade of both was flattery.”
Back to London office. ‘You’re late,’ he said. ‘Damned late.’ ‘Yes, I am,’ I said. ‘Do I rate an explanation?’ ‘I was having this wonderful dream, Bret. I dreamed I was working for this nice man who couldn’t tell the time.’
Berlin -like old times. “I heard one of her favourite records playing. It was scratchy and muffled. … No one here can love and understand me, Oh what hard-luck stories they all hand me … Lisl’s record started again. Pack up all my cares and woe. Here I go, singing low, Bye-bye, blackbird … -have the time,’ I said, ‘and you have the brandy.’ ‘I thought you were going to say: I have the time if you have the inclination, as Big Ben said to the leaning tower of Pisa. Her record was still playing and I could imagine her propped up amid a dozen lace pillows nodding her head to the music: Make my bed and light the light, I’ll arrive late tonight. Blackbird, bye-bye.”
Berlin lunch. ‘Two more Pilsener,’ Werner called to Konrad. ‘And my friend will have a schnapps with his.’ ‘Just to clean the fish from my fingers,’ I said. The boy smiled. It was an old German custom to offer schnapps with the eel and use the final drain of it to clean the fingers. But like lots of old German customs it was now conveniently discontinued. — our Pinkel and kale, a casserole dish of sausage and greens, with its wonderful smell of smoked bacon and onions. And, having decided that I was a connoisseur of fine sausage, his mother sent a small extra plate with a sample of the Kochwurst and Brägenwurst.” Nearby… “the birthday party were eating a special order of Schlesisches Himmelreich. This particular ‘Silesian paradise’ was a pork stew flavoured with dried fruit and hot spices. There was a cheer when the stew, in its big brown pot, first arrived. And another cheer for the bread dumplings that followed soon after. — toast for Konrad’s mother who every year cooked this fine meal of Silesian favourites. — ‘Our Germany has become little more than a gathering place for refugees,’ said Werner. ‘Zena’s family are just like them. They have these big family reunions and talk about the old times. They talk about the farm as if they left only yesterday. It’s another world, Bernie. We’re big-city kids. People from the country are different from us, and these Germans from the eastern lands knew a life we can’t even guess at.’ — Then they all drank to Goeth… ‘I never feel more English than when I hear someone quoting your great German poets.’ … comes “… but learn through order how to conquer time’s swift flight.”’ — ‘The point I’m making, my dear Werner, is the natural repulsion any Englishman would feel at the notion of inflicting order upon his time. Especially inflicting order upon his leisure time or, as is possibly implied here, his retirement.’ ‘For Englishmen order does not go well with leisure. They like muddle and disarray.’ — ‘look at myself and I wonder where I can really call home. Do you know what I mean, Werner?’ ‘Of course I know what you mean. I’m a Jew.’ He looked at Konrad. ‘Two coffees; two schnapps.’
London. “Feeling sorry for myself. I wandered into the nursery and fingered Sally’s ‘Joke Book’: ‘How do you catch a monkey? – Hang upside-down in a tree and make a noise like a banana.’ And in Billy’s book of children’s verse I found Kipling: Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark – Brandy for the Parson, ’Baccy for the Clerk; Laces for a lady, letters for a spy, Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!”
Mexico Set. “over to the air-conditioner. I held my hand in front of the outlet but the air was still not much cooled. ‘It makes a lot of noise but doesn’t work very well,’ explained Werner. ‘The Mexicans call them “politicians”.’ —. “I’d even allowed time for the traffic jam. The traffic slowed and then came to a complete standstill. The fire-eater was still at work. He blew a fierce tongue of flame into the air. It was darker now and the flame lit up all the cars, rippled in the paintwork and shone in all the windows. ‘It’s fantastic the things some people do for a living,’ said Stinnes.”
It’s a good book, and a good ending.. read the book -por favor.
About the author. “Len Deighton was born in 1929. He worked as a railway clerk before doing his National Service in the RAF as a photographer attached to the Special Investigation Branch. After his discharge in 1949, he went to art school – first to the St Martin’s School of Art, and then to the Royal College of Art on a scholarship. His mother was a professional cook and he grew up with an interest in cookery – a subject he was later to make his own in an animated strip for the Observer and two cookery books.” Also “worked for a while as an illustrator in New York” and as an advertising art director in London… “ time to settle down, Deighton moved to the Dordogne where he started work on his first book, The Ipcress File. Published in 1962” ... and he just kept going…
“Max Hastings observed, Deighton captured a time and a mood – ‘To those of us who were in our twenties in the 1960s, his books seemed the coolest, funkiest, most sophisticated things we’d ever read’ – and his books have now deservedly become classics.”