My best friend recommended I read Claire Berlinski's first stab at a novel, Loose Lips. It was okay - not great, but not bad ... a quick read.
She raved about it, in part, because I'm a huge fan of the spy/espionage genre.
Alias is one of my favorite television shows. I'm embarrassed to admit that I make a concerted effort to be home in time to watch it - thank god it's on a Sunday and not at 9:00 p.m. on Friday.
I'm the proud owner of the entire James Bond 007 Collection (even the crap "unofficial" versions), as well as numerous spy movies like The Avengers, Mission Impossible, The Saint, The Spy Game, Bourne Identity, Hunt for Red October, Clear and Present Danger, and The Man Who Knew Too Much, among other classics.
I get into a mood and will devour books by Dan Brown, John le Carre, Catherine Coulter, Clive Cussler, Jack Higgins, Iris Johansen, and Daniel Silva. It's my guilty pleasure.
And, here in DC, I laugh - when I'm out with friends, sitting in a bar, and overhear some schmuck dressed in a cheap JC Penny suit say that he works for the "Department of State".... all the while knowing that the naive interns sitting at his table are now under the impression that he's CIA. Life just isn't that glamorous. I wish - but it just ain't so.
Why do people impersonating agents always say they work for the State Dept.? Why not Transportation? Or Labour? At least Berlinski got creative and placed her agents at the Department of Agriculture.
And why do we get a thrill, a charge, when we think there are agents among us? In reality it's a messy business. What exactly is it that captivates us?