by John Banville
Ugh, I was unable to finish this, mainly out of frustration.
The novel is written as a memoir of a former spy. From what I read, the focus seems to be on how a lot of the things involved in being spy are mundane, just like any other job... which I was fine with. But what bothered me immensely was the main character's rather pointless and shallow reflections on his actions and reactions and his not-enlightening mullings on large-scale schools of thoughts. To me, it was like listening to college students in "philosophical" debates - bloody pedantic and not insightful at all. It pains me to even think this much about this.
On to my next book.