On the day before my eighteenth birthday in 1961, East Germany’s construction of the Berlin Wall—which physically and symbolically further separated the burgeoning Soviet empire from the West—burst into the headlines. Soviet Russia’s 1949 acquisition of the atomic bomb, its 1957 technological tour de force, Sputnik, and now the Berlin Wall dimmed the power and afterglow of post-WWII United States to 25-watt status. The battle lines between the two most powerful nations in the world—with their opposing political and moral philosophies—were, as they say, drawn.
Such was the western hemisphere’s climate and mood as entry point of author Bill Rapp’s Berlin Walls, a four-star epicurean feast for readers of political thrillers. Like most well-written novels, the story is grounded in locale, timeline, and historical specifics. And no wonder, Rapp’s background as an academic historian smoothly exported that discipline to his novel-writing. In other words, his description of 1961 Berlin not only gets the history and geopolitics right but depicts the view from an overhead drone combined with the streetscape of Google Earth. At all times, the reader knows where he is in this complex tale.
More importantly, author Rapp’s long career as a Central Intelligence Agency analyst imbues knotty intrigue of Rubik’s Cube-magnitude with ample verisimilitude. Berlin Walls’ plot and sub-plots entail a cat-mouse game between American CIA Officer Karl Baier and frenemy Russian, Sergei Chernov; the rescue of Baier’s in-laws from East Berlin to the West; sorting out motivations of opaque Russian and East German players; and the walls between people. It is dense with mystery and tension and reminds this reviewer of an anecdote reflecting the atmosphere of the period: “He tells me he’s going to Moscow, therefore he wants me to think he’s going to Minsk, therefore he’s going to Moscow.” Close reading is advised.
My only complaint is a stylistic one and has to do with dialogue. Too often, names are repeated when two characters converse: e.g, (hypothetically) “You know, Tom, I don’t want to go there.” “I know, Fred, but you must.” “But Tom…” etc. In fairness, most of the book’s dialogue involves characters who are not native English speakers, rendering their words and speaking style more formal than American English—which has its own style of casual and idiomatic communicating. I cite this as a personal observation, but it in no way impedes the forward motion of the action, the mystery, or the drama.
Again, four stars to Bill Rapp’s Berlin Walls. If any reader should wonder whether a historian and career CIA officer sees events differently from the average reader of newspapers, Berlin Walls provides an eyeful.
Lanny Larcinese
12/8/2021