I’m quite enjoying Dan Wheatcroft’s offbeat espionage novels. I wonder if other people have the same reaction. I honestly see why some wouldn’t like them.

The Summer of 75 takes place (obviously) nine years after the previous book, The Summer of 66. Our hero John Gallagher, now an experienced counterespionage agent, gets his first overseas assignment. An East German government official, whom he met in the previous book, wants to defect. It’s Gallagher’s job to help him. The government, always tightfisted, stretches to the expense of issuing him a gun and a few bullets.

Of course there are wheels within wheels. There’s a British agent in the pay of the Russians, who very much does not want the defector to be debriefed in the west. There’s the secret police, who know a lot of secrets, but don’t know which ones are red herrings. Not only are all the characters playing games with the others, they’re second-guessing them and doing their best to manipulate reactions.

I can’t claim that I followed the plot of The Summer of 75 all the way through. As is customary with Wheatcroft’s books, it’s pretty complex, all the threads densely packed together. This is a story with very little free space in it, like the roots of a pot-bound plant.

Yet somehow, I found the book relaxing to read. I can’t account for that reaction.

There are a few odd grammar lapses. The author doesn’t know how to conjugate the verb “hang.” He says “X hung him/herself,” more than once. He also has trouble with “sat.” He writes quite professionally otherwise, so that’s peculiar.

But I enjoyed The Summer of 75 – rather more, in fact, than I enjoyed the year itself when I lived through it.