The convention of spy fiction has always been the romance of beautiful world tours, perfect spies, and futuristic technology that crosses into fantasy. However, B.W. Leavitt’s How to Train a Spy does not follow the formula and changes the genre with its down-to-earth, painstakingly detailed style of the intelligence work. Instead of employing the overblown heroism the novel brings the readers into contact with Brian Lewis a correctional officer who is thrown into a world that is much more complicated and dangerous than he could have imagined.
As soon as the federal agents show up at the workplace of Brian in the middle of the night, the readers understand that it is not a classic spy story. There are no undercover super-spies or life-long agents. Rather, we are introduced to an ordinary man who suddenly finds out that his military background qualifies him to be a highly qualified person to handle a classified mission. His fear, confusion, hesitation, and his feeling of responsibility all demonstrate the reaction of an average human being, which happens when he/she finds themselves in such a scenario.
Much of what makes the novel so real is the incredibly elaborate training that Brian goes through. Although fictional spies may turn into ideal operatives in a day or two, the path taken by Brian is a matter of discipline, struggle and slow learning. His experience in the secret underground intelligence base is full of conceivable training aspects: weapon handling, spy craft, evasion, the management of an undercover identity, and intelligence communications procedures. All of the skills are taught in a degree of specificity that reflects real-world methodology.
Leavitt goes an extra mile and adds realistic psychological and technological aspects. The fact that Brian has learned Farsi faster using sleep-training, e.g., is not represented as science fiction, but as a new method based on cognitive studies. His mini-sub training on a masqueraded Florida coast is also realistic and is logistically accurate as opposed to cinematic razzle dazzberry. These scenes emphasize the fact that spy-craft is more of preparation, awareness and survival rather than glamour.
The other context in which the novel has transformed the genre is in its description of undercover identities. The identity change is taken lightly in most espionage books, like it will be in the movies, the secret agents can change their identity without any consequences. However, the experience of Brian is much more complicated and stressful. In his flight to Russia and later to Iran, he experiences a sequence of successive identity escapes comprising of swapping seats on the flight, hidden coded messages in books and secret messages concealed in aircraft lavatories. Every detail is captured in every step and it depicts how difficult the secret traveling can be and how alert one should be to avoid being caught.
The very mission, that of a secret Russian-Iranian base where an electromagnetic weapon is being created with greater power, is based on geopolitical feasibility. Leavitt does not count on villains that are unbelievable and unrealistic storylines. Rather, he creates a tension by being precise: by real military procedures, believable structures of black sites and real intelligence goals.
The book is even more realistic because of its emotional setting. The collaboration between Brian and Jasmine, the Iranian agent who is pretending to be his wife, is depicted in a subtle and restrained manner. The basis of their relationship is not obligatory romance but a common threat, mutual reliance and the level of trust that is needed between two undercover agents.
The escapades scene in the novel establishes the highest level of realism. Rather than a melodramatic, impossible escape, Brian is brought out via simulated explosions, diversions and well-planned ruses. It is further disturbed by the authenticity of Brian using his own blood to make a realistic DNA match. It is espionage to be conducted on the basis of plan, disguise, and sacrifice, not irresistible heroism.
Readers are reminded of this when Brian finally returns to the United States and notices that spies never get back to the normal life. His debriefing, reintegration and the chilling closing clue that his work may not be over are commentaries on the effect of covert service. There is no great climax or climax and the conclusion is quietly disturbing, like real espionage.