This is a visceral read: you will walk through the streets of London in the 1960s; you will smell the coffee, the cigarettes, the whiskey, and the mouse shit. You will peer around corners of pubs, admire vistas across the European seas and be caught crouching behind bushes with sticks and pebbles digging into your legs. You will visit countries not part of the tourism trail, you will watch boats leave ports, and you will dine at roadside places with artists and raconteurs.

In this tale, Gabriel Dax is an accomplished and celebrated travel writer who becomes caught up in post-Cold War conflict and confusion. He is doing quite well despite a childhood trauma; his life is balanced. Until he falls into the domain of Faith Green, an enigmatic MI6 handler. Before too long, he is embroiled in the work of this spy agency, and everything begins to unravel. Of course, at the core of William Boyd’s latest novel is a mystery to be solved, but alongside it lie great personal consequences for every action.

Will you like Gabriel and his search for reason? Will you enjoy his attitude to women, or will you pity him? Perhaps, like me, you will even despair at his arrogance. He is a man searching for answers in the past and yet seems indifferent to the changing conventions and politics around him. As with all of Boyd’s writing, though, you will be enchanted; his latest novel arrives perfectly tailored and positioned to bewitch you. He is that sort of writer. His romantic prose is a joy to behold: those perfect sentences. The crafted imagery. The finely composed characters. Clear your desk, pour a neat drink, and settle in. You are not going anywhere until you finish reading.