For more than twenty years, I’ve ranted against fashionable claims that spy fiction was out of gas, having lost its raison d’être with the end of the Cold War. On the contrary, I maintained, the genre was enjoying rude health, with a mix of grandmasters, solidly established figures, and interesting new voices, and there were more than enough regional and global conflicts to keep spies and spymasters busy and readers turning the pages.
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