Customer Reviews

The Ipcress File

5 star:		(7)
4 star:		(5)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

I first read this book as a teenager in the 1960s, graduating from James Bond. After Fleming's action-based thrillers, Deighton was bound to come across as a little elliptical, and my response then was a mixture of bafflement and admiration. I had to read the three subsequent books in the series before I realized that it's a waste of time looking for logical plots in Deighton's work. Perfect plotters are authors who are never diverted by inconsequential things. But Deighton's writing is fuelled by the inconsequential and the peculiar.

George Orwell once noted that Dickens's books are always packed with purposeless detail. Cheeses can't be just "cheeses": they have to be "Gloucester cheeses". His fictional world is very particular, very specific. In the same way, when you get to know Deighton, you are not surprised when his hero stops off at a delicatessen to buy a pound of - no, not just "butter", but "Normandy butter" - and when it goes soft in his pocket before he makes it home, we realize that this hero is a million miles from James Bond.

Departing from the usual profile, Deighton's novels are character-based rather than action-based, and that's both a strength and a weakness. There are any number of slick, factory-produced thrillers around, but a Len Deighton thriller is a hand-made product. The edges are not quite straight, it wobbles when you try to stand it upright, and the doors don't quite fit.

Those who look for a perfect solution to a clearly-stated puzzle should look elsewhere. What we get from Len Deighton is the kind of character-drawing that is traditionally the weakest element in popular thrillers. His descriptions are always arresting and invariably witty. Colonel Ross is described as having "the complexion of a Hovis loaf", and those who have seen a Hovis loaf will recognize the aptness of the image: that of a florid military type who is a little too fond of the bottle. He is also described as a gentleman - which Deighton defines as someone who never drinks gin before 7.30 p.m. and wouldn't hit a lady without first taking his hat off.

If you like that sort of thing, you'll like Len Deighton. He is the Charles Dickens of thriller writers, with the same faults and the same virtues. And The Ipcress File is replete with both. Deighton's shaky and approximate plotting is more than offset by his observant eye for the endless varieties of human strangeness.

Just one thing, though. Deighton is someone who doesn't just write, he re-writes. The care with which he crafts his prose is somehow evident on the page in the look of the sentences and paragraphs. He is a writer, and you should be a reader. So, my advice: forget the cassette. Go for the book.

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!

It is said that this debut from Deighton transformed the thriller genre, and after reading its elliptical not-plot, one can see why. This first in the so-called "Harry Palmer" quartet (the narrator isn't named in print, only in the films based on the books), firmly established the idea of spy as bureaucrat, rather than spy as action hero. The narrator is a sardonic, apparently middle-class, man who has been transferred into an awkwardly acronymed small department of the British espionage system, which is run by proper upper-class gents. There, his first assignment is to assist in the investigation of the mysterious disappearance of a number of British scientists. His problem is that information is so compartmentalized that he's never really clear what's going on or how to even begin.

Most readers are likely to be equally confused as they try to unravel the tangled web of bureaucratic infighting that seems to shroud the whole book. It doesn't help matters when the scene shifts to Lebanon, where the narrator and his support team is involved in retrieving one of the scientists. The plot (such as it is) gets further confused when the boss goes off on assignment, leaving the narrator in charge of the section. And then the boss comes back out of the blue and they all troop off to a South Pacific atoll to witness some kind of American nuclear test. It's hard to see where Deighton's going with all this, and even more so when it becomes apparent that the narrator is actually under suspicion of being a Soviet spy.

In the end, Deighton waves his wand and removes his handkerchief to reveal the solution to all the confusion, and while it more or less works, it somehow feels cheap. There's even a whole "explanation" scene where the narrator spells everything out to another character for the reader's benefit. The research into the espionage bureaucracy of the era is admirable, and Deighton does have a deft hand at description and some nice turns of phrase, but the plotting is so skimpy as to be noticeable in its absence. It's kind of interesting to read about spies as regular bureaucrats with expense account issues and bag wages owed to them, but that only gets one so far. In the end, for all the groundbreaking style, the "threat" to the

While now being somewhat outdated, I really enjoy his brand o espionage. Deighton's mastery of dialogue is apparent, along with his ability to make the reader feel a part of the story and era. Deighton's research into contemporary Cold War espionage practices and bureaucracy is superb, as in all his books. Very believable, crisp, and gripping. Highly recommended

I couldn't disagree more with the review here that states that this is a terrible book. Len Deighton is quite rightly considered one of the masters of the espionage novel. This is the first of his first series of books, which also included 'Funeral in Berlin', 'Billion Dollar Brain', 'Horse Under Water', and 'An Expensive Place to Die'. Deighton's mastery of dialogue is apparent, along with his ability to make the reader feel a part of the story and era. Deighton's research into contemporary Cold War espionage practices and bureaucracy is superb, as in all his books. Very believable, crisp, and gripping. Highly recommended (if you can find a copy!

Reading this book after any of Ian Fleming's was an example of the notional shock to the system. Fleming's James Bond was a field agent and not just any field agent, mind you. He was a member of an exclusive group; those authorized by the government to kill their enemies. It was never clear if all double-zero agents were as urbane and sophisticated as Bond. What was certain was that the character - whether in print or on film - was the epitome of cool. In fact, it wasn't until deep into the series of books that Bond ever exhibited loss of composure. James Bond was the kind man that men wanted to emulate. He moved through his missions with aplomb, virtuosity, a sense and sensibility that left one breathless and awestruck.

In 1962 - the same year that we were introduced to Sean Connery as Bond in Dr. No - The Ipcress File was published in the UK. Posited as a debriefing for a high government official and told in the first person by the protagonist, we learn of the discovery and eventual dismantling of a "brain-washing" business run by a mercenary organization with no ties to any government. In that aspect, the entity is similar to Fleming's SPECTRE; UNCLE's THRUSH or even KAOS on Get Smart! As with any good trip, getting there is half the fun. The Ipcress File is a maze and minefield of clues, double and triple crosses, surveillance, shoot-outs and torture. But, it is there that similarities end.

The story is dressed out with an attention to description that is at once fascinating; obtuse to the reader and ultimately so dense with minutia that the reader feels as if they are inside the never-named hero's head looking through his eyes. Deighton does not write, "I walked along the Street." Instead, the journey is depicted via an amalgam of precision and metaphor, the density of which seems at first overwhelming but is really simply the insight into the character himself.

And what a character Deighton has created! He is as unlike James Bond, the uber-mensch of espionage, as is possible. At best a mid-level operative, the man is capable of pettiness, bitterness, vindictiveness, anger, jealousy and a host of other flaws, large and small. In short, he is as consummately human as is possible. His telling of the story reflects this and - if truth be known - one is never quite sure how skewed by prejudices is his recitation of the events. Some will find this off-putting; others will think it realistic.

This was author Deighton's debut novel. The franchise continued for the next thirty-four years. During that time, the character changed only slightly - mostly in terms of age; he always seemed to be in the 35 to 45 year range. One thing never changed and that was the depiction of the spy business. While Fleming made it romantic, Deighton's version was far more sordid and - more often than one perhaps wished - the lines between good and bad, them and us; even winners and losers was never firmly delineated.

In that aspect, the story is closer in tone to the works - yet to come in 1962 - of John LeCarre. However, LeCarre's works always centered around a more elite group who had achieved their position through combination of education, social status and family. Deighton's spy - when killing an American agent while protecting his boss or aiding a Soviet agent who personified the title of fellow-traveler - was the once and future working-class hero. A man on a path along which he would be as likely attacked by friend as foe; if it fact, he could tell them apart.

The climax and denouement of the novel finds him left - as he always knew, deep in his heart, he would be - dependent only upon himself and his own devices for survival. In Deighton's world, spying is necessary but the very need for it does not impart an iota of glamour.

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.

The story appears at first to be fragmented; it becomes hard for the reader to fully grasp the plot. However, I think this is one of the finest aspects of this novel: the fact that at the end, much of the information that appears in the early chapters of the book become so relevant towards the end and the story's conclusion. This novel resists becoming too unrealistic as the reader is taken all over the world and the first person narrative adds to the effect the book has. As well as this, the book is written with astonishing attention to detail, which makes it all the more convincing. First class!

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.

The Ipcress File is an uneven, although occasionally fascinating adventure concerning nuclear weapons and thought reform. The book's strong points-- its humorous style and interesting subject matter-- are sometimes lost in a meandering plot. The story's conclusion is anti-climactic and reminiscent of American adaptations of foreign films, in which everything is explained to the viewer down to the last little detail. Unfortunately, what's unnecessary in American movies is all too necessary in Deighton's book. His decision to leave numerous threads untied until late in the book make it a somewhat confusing read. The discussion of thought reform near the end is interesting and for me, indicates a direction the book could have taken which would have made it more interesting and less like a film treatment.