“A page-turner . . . Marías is a great philosophical novelist, one of the greatest European novelists of the last 50 years. His characters brood obsessively, and one of Marías’s great skills as a novelist is to make that brooding completely compelling, hypnotic, and exciting.” —William Flesch, Los Angeles Review of Books

“An ingenious premise . . . Marías plays deliberately and unsettlingly with the appearance of real and terrible events in the middle of a novel that owes such an obvious debt to the pleasures of genre . . . In one of Nevinson’s conversations with the socialist wife, they ‘agreed that really good authors—who, according to her, were getting fewer in number—managed “magically” (her rather affected word) to make us believe their stories and passionately engage with them’ . . . This, of course, is a very good description of Marías himself, who died last year from Covid complications. Which means that number has become even smaller.” —Benjamin Markovits, New York Times Book Review

“A splendid swansong for Spain’s king of spy fiction . . . Javier Marías had already established himself as the leading Spanish novelist of his generation by the time he turned to spy fiction [but] when he died last year the obituaries concluded that his espionage novels were his greatest achievement: the conventions of the genre provided the perfect framework for his investigations into the essentially amorphous and unknowable nature of human character . . . [Spymaster Bertram Tupra is] one of the most memorable characters in modern fiction . . . What really makes his novels enthralling is the irresistible ruminative, allusive narrative voice . . . A new Marías book is always an exhilarating pleasure and one I’ll miss dreadfully.” —Jake Kerridge, The Telegraph