domingo, 27 de junio de 2010

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The Thresl Chronicles:

Thresls are rare shapeshifting creatures that can only be born on one planet in the universe. In order to transform from beast to man they have to bond with a human mate. Once transformed they are forever bound to the one they've chosen, however, sometimes what should be an automatic process turns into a traumatic event.

While mates and enemies battle for the good of the Thresls, the cat creatures themselves will ultimately have to decide if they want a planet of pure bred shifters or if they can make room for their half-bred children and stubborn human mates.


Duke Betrayed by Amber Kell


Book five in the The Thresl Chronicles series


When Duke Hellbur is accused of treason against his people, he bonds with medic Balaze to keep his human form and prove his innocence.


When Duke Hellbur is accused of smuggling Thresls and selling them off to interested buyers, he undertakes a trip to prove his innocence. In order to retain his humanity, Hellbur bonds with a medic named Balaze…who didn’t exactly give his assent to the binding of their souls.


Balaze admired the duke whenever he visited the castle, but finding someone attractive and wanting to be theirs for eternity aren’t the same thing. After surviving the death of his first Thresl mate, Balaze isn’t exactly eager to go through that pain again. However, the duke doesn’t take no for answer.

Those who are guilty will have to be uncovered if the two men ever plan on finding peace with each other. When Hellbur and Balaze go off on an interplanetary adventure, can they find common ground or will their enemies tear them apart?


Amber Kell
About the Author:

Amber is one of those quiet people they always tell you to watch out for. She lives in Seattle with her husband, two sons, two cats and one extremely stupid dog.

  • Sales Rank: #93214 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2013-11-15
  • Released on: 2013-11-15
  • Format: Kindle eBook

Most helpful customer reviews

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
One of the best in the series!
By Sophia Rose
I really enjoy this series and love the Thresl cats and their mates so its automatic to just grab up the next book when it comes out. This book takes up right where the last one left off. It grabbed me early and left me even more pleased than ever with this series.

The story opens with the medic, Dr. Walter Balaze, watching over the unconscious Duke in his care. Duke Hellbur has been healed from the explosion, but something else keeps his body down. Balaze is attracted to the duke and worries for him. Soon the King-Mate arrives to explain that the duke was taking experimental drugs to suppress his Thresl nature so he could stay human even without a bond mate. Balaze is not really worried knowing what those drugs probably did to the man's body.

Hell wakes up to the best scent he's ever smelled and the best rest he's experienced in ages. A soft voice calls him 'kitty' and begs for him to wake up. He loves that voice too which is the source of the scent that screams 'mate' to him. Hell promptly comes to alertness, pounces on the pretty male and bites him to initialize their bond. His new mate is cute and shocked, but for the first time in centuries, Hell's body settles down from the war it was under raging for a mate. He shifts and barely begins to explain to his mate when Friln arrives to share that he's going to be arrested for treason which will hopefully draw out the real traitors. Friln says he'll wait until the duke is given his health clearance.

With that bit of news, Hell grabs his mildly protesting mate and goes on the run to find out who set him up so he can clear his names. He now is doubly motivated because after he settles matters, he has a handsome mate to enjoy.
Balaze understands the need to go with Hell for safety purposes, but he wish he meant more to Hellbur than a convenience bond and he wishes to be of real help on Hell's quest that takes them across the galaxy.

The space adventure leads them to so many things. They gain the clues they need, find Saint, help a colony of suffering Thresls, discover what they seek, and also find that it serves to draw them closer in their bond. It all comes to a close leaving the door open for Saint and Mars' adventure.

From the get-go, I was into this one. It offered the passionate mating, the danger of the chase, intrigue, relationship development and scene time with Saint. Hell and Balaze are great together. They've both been in a mate bond before, lost their mates, and know exactly what they want. I loved how both communicate well though Hell has trouble verbalizing his feelings. Their personalities fit so well together too. They were a blazing hot couple, but tender too. I enjoyed seeing both of them use their skills in this story.

All and all, this was one of the strongest outings in the series in my opinion.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
didn't really enjoy this one.
By HisBabes
Of the Thresl Chronicles so far, I feel this one fell short. None of them are great novels and all are a bit scattered but this one was really scattered and there were several instances where I thought either 'well that was dumb' or 'well why don't they just...' In an advanced society that has interstellar travel, shape shifting abilities, scanners & advanced medical systems they don't have some way of making a simple phone call?

Yes, all of this authors stories are novellas and yes they are simple brain candy, nothing serious and a good way to relax and turn off higher thinking but even I can only suspend so much disbelief even for a paranormal/science fiction story.

I do plan to continue this series as well as her other work, I just hope I don't continue to be let down.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
reviewed by redz world reviews
By Tina Brunelle (Redz)
Duke Hellbur is being set up. He knows he is not a traitor but someone close to him is. Can he find out the culprit before his name is tarnished beyond repair? In Duke Betrayed by Amber Kell Duke Hellbur is determined to find out who is using his name and connections to sell Thresls. In order to do so he must remain human and Balaze is the key to doing so. But Balaze has already lost his Thresl and doesn’t want to experience the pain of loss again. Can he forgive Hellbur for taking away his choice?
I really enjoyed this addition to Ms. Kell’s Thresl Chronicles series. Hellbur is an honorable Thresl who has given his all to protecting not only his brethren but his king as well. And now someone has used his network to subvert everything his has worked for. And when his life is nearly ended it causes his body to revert to his cat form, a form in which he cannot use to clear his name. I really enjoyed Hellbur and Balaze. You would not have expected them to fit but they did. They had such different personalities and desires for the future but somehow as they followed the threads of deceit they meshed. Hellbur needed to learn what it means to really love and Balaze had to learn to trust his heart again. Ms. Kell wove their differing needs in such a way that it felt believable and real. The story was action packed and well written. I am a fan of this series and with this addition by Ms. Kell did not disappoint!

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An irreverant agony aunt for sleep-deprived new parents and hormonally unbalanced expectants, Sh*t on My Hands: A Down and Dirty companion to Early Parenthood provides a pithy commentary on the twists and turns of parenting the under-twos.

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  • Sales Rank: #2203969 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2011-11-16
  • Released on: 2011-11-16
  • Format: Kindle eBook

About the Author
BUNNY BANYAI and MADELEINE HAMILTON know all about the realities of parenting. Bunny is a copywriter who lives with her two daughters, her stepdaughter, and a partner more adept than most at ponytails and braids. Madeleine is a part-time historian, part-time writer and full-time mother of three.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Hilarious because it is all so true
By heidstar
From the first page it was so funny and so true to life. Well done for writting a book that doesnt sugar coat anything. I am so glad it is all behind me.

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miércoles, 16 de junio de 2010

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  • Sales Rank: #41372 in Books
  • Published on: 2016-11-28
  • Original language: English
  • Dimensions: 9.00" h x .54" w x 6.00" l,
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 236 pages

Most helpful customer reviews

12 of 13 people found the following review helpful.
Consider investing in a standard work on SQL instead
By J.O.
Although the e-book is inexpensive, it is severely lacking:

* There is little actual, usable content, and most of the useful bits are quotes from other sources.

* The book gets its length from overblown and sadly rather useless examples (through pages and pages of sample tables, for example).

* The formatting is poor, making it hard to track what the key commands and parameters are.

* The writing style is overly casual, glossing over details and making curious use of disclaimers.

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(It is astonishing to see so literally a hundred glowing reviews and not single critical remark. As if there had been two versions of this book.)

12 of 13 people found the following review helpful.
This is the single most useless thing I've ever wasted 20 minutes to read
By annihilatorg
This is the single most useless thing I've ever wasted 20 minutes to read. Fairly certain the author just plagiarized chunks of his works cited. There is zero information in this book that you couldn't find more quickly and better presented in a W3C tutorial or highschool-level wordpress blog.

10 of 11 people found the following review helpful.
Don't buy if you're new to coding / programming.
By J. Fedder
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The Quest for God: Personal Pilgrimage, A, by Paul Johnson

In this probing, challenging and personal account of his feelings about God and religion, Paul Johnson shares with others the strength and comfort of his own faith. Informed by his great knowledge of history, The Quest for God is written with force, lucidity and eloquence by the author of Intellectuals, Modern Times, A History of the Jews and other works.

  • Sales Rank: #1092892 in eBooks
  • Published on: 2009-10-13
  • Released on: 2009-10-13
  • Format: Kindle eBook

Amazon.com Review
Though a spate of religious quest books have appeared in recent years, Johnson's book is neither a search for the historical Jesus nor a quasi-mystical personal odyssey. Johnson, it seems, is perfectly happy with the faith of his father and as accustomed to the Catholic Church "as a much-loved old teddy bear or a favorite armchair or a smelly old favorite dog." A journalist and historian, Johnson has written an apologia in which he answers such basic questions as "What is God, then?" and "Is there an alternative to God?" His answers surprise, provoke, and even provide comfort.

From Publishers Weekly
Historian Johnson (A History of Christianity; A History of the Jews; The Birth of the Modern World Society) switches to a more intimate scale as he tries to provoke readers into examining their beliefs, or lack thereof, in God. Johnson's allegiance to the Catholic Church and its ritual are balanced by an assessment of the history of that institution and his agreement that for "some people, salvation is more likely outside my church-in other churches or no church." Necessarily, Johnson's view on Purgatory, Hell and the Last Judgment reflect his Catholic faith; however, statements such as "The Last Judgment is not so much delivering verdicts as confirming verdicts already reached in the heart of each individual" show Johnson's careful examination of free will and of God's intentions toward creation. Originally published in England, this American edition will invite discussion, introspection and controversy from both liberal and conservative readers in this country as it calls them to their own quest for God.
Copyright 1996 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From Booklist
Many readers will find Johnson's cranky and opinionated style appealingly personal. His previous work as a historian will ensure this book a significant audience, and, to the extent that the audience is drawn by the author more than by his subject matter, it will not be disappointed. Readers will learn more here about Paul Johnson than about God. The book is not so much a pilgrimage as an assertion of faith--an assertion, not an argument. Some readers, no doubt, will share Johnson's sense of the necessity of God's existence. Some will agree with his dismissive remarks on Russell, Ayer, Sartre, Wells, and a host of other intellectuals who have not shared his belief; some who don't agree will find the remarks amusing (or infuriating) and may be encouraged to take a second look at the thoughts so summarily dismissed. In the end, Johnson asserts that the love and worship of God are about turning our minds--and our bodies. How this book will turn readers depends largely on turns those readers have already taken, but it does contain illuminating insights into Johnson's turn that may contribute to understanding the body of his work. Steve Schroeder

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Ok
By gingblack@aol.com
Ok book but not as insightful as I hoped.
Author is very knowledgeable but bases everything he believes on faith. I hope he is correct.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Five Stars
By Louise D.
Good read

1 of 3 people found the following review helpful.
Disappointing...
By Geoff Puterbaugh
I am a big fan of Paul Johnson, and sometimes I stand in awe of what he has accomplished as a historian and author: "Modern Times," "The Birth of the Modern," excellent histories of Judaism and Christianity, "Intellectuals" --- well, the man just never stops producing interesting stuff to read, including his recent "Creators."

This book is about his conservative Catholic faith, and I found the portrait of that beguiling and comforting, right up to his chapter on "The Last Judgment." It seemed to me that his reason deserted him there, since a God who would send his own creatures to everlasting torment does not even meet the ethical standards of the SPCA (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals). What would we say about a man who chose to breed Golden Retrievers, and chose to say "Bad dog!" by crucifying the dog upside down over an eternally burning fire? How much more damning would our ethical judgment be, if the man were not raising Golden Retrievers, but was raising creatures which were his own creation?

I suspect this is why the Church of England has dropped the very concept of Hell. Interestingly enough, since the COE is an established religion, this dogma was forced down the throats of COE priests by a council of laymen.

For this and similar reasons, I cannot recommend this book. At all.

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sábado, 12 de junio de 2010

[C763.Ebook] PDF Download Vickers Industrial Hydraulics Manual, by Vickers Training Center

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Vickers Industrial Hydraulics Manual, by Vickers Training Center

Eaton Fluid Power Training's Industrial Hydraulics Manual have set the standard for the industry for many years. Clear, plainly written text and high-quality illustrations make the Vickers Industrial Hydraulics Manual the most popular hydraulics text both in plants and at local college bookstores. Take advantage of the most comprehensive hydraulics training and training aids in the industry.

  • Sales Rank: #499447 in Books
  • Published on: 1999-11-01
  • Ingredients: Example Ingredients
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 11.50" h x 8.75" w x 1.25" l,
  • Binding: Hardcover
  • 600 pages

Most helpful customer reviews

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
The Standard manual for Hydraulics and Hydraulic Systems
By M. Shonts
I bought this book used and it arrived in like-new condition. I have worked repairing the electronics inside and outside of hydraulic valves for almost four years now, and there were STILL some new things I learned from this book! This book covers all the details of specifying and troubleshooting hydraulic systems, which is well beyond the scope of what I usually do. Great book, and great reference material that I can frequently use.

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Five Stars
By alberto alvarez
Amazing book to start learning about hydraulicz

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
it is in very good shape. He is quite pleased with
By sandy
This manual was for hubby for work, it is in very good shape. He is quite pleased with it

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martes, 8 de junio de 2010

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The Virgin Way, by Richard Branson Sir

Named one of Forbes magazine s top ten greatest business leaders living today and voted by British workers as the person they would most like to have as their manager, Sir Richard Branson has built a business empire. His success is attributable not only to his famous drive, insight, and devil-may-care attitude but also to his ability to make the people working with him feel comfortable.Now Branson shares the leadership secrets accumulated during his more than forty years of experience as a businessman and as an inspiring pioneer of humanitarian projects. Featuring anecdotes from his own dealings, as well as observations of others who have inspired him, Branson reflects on the management qualities he feels are essential for success in today s world. Asking what a leader is, as opposed to a boss, he distills his answers into twelve points, including the following: Listen to your people and your customers. But remember neither group is always right. Have courage. You don t have to think outside the box if the box never got built. Enable success. A new kind of CEO a Chief Enabling Officer is needed to grow the intrapreneurs who will be tomorrow s entrepreneurs. Collaborate. Be humble, give others the limelight, and allow them to make mistakes.A reflective and unconventional take on management, The Virgin Way is a fun and practical read for aspiring leaders everywhere.

  • Published on: 2014-09-09
  • Formats: Audiobook, CD
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 9
  • Dimensions: 6.10" h x 1.20" w x 6.70" l,
  • Running time: 41400 seconds
  • Binding: Audio CD

Review
''Few people in contemporary business are as colorful, shrewd, and irreverent, and probably no one's nearly as much fun to be around . . . Branson embodies America's cherished mythology of the iconoclastic, swashbuckling entrepreneur.'' --G, praise for the author

''[Branson's] business instincts are matched by an ability to motivate people who work for him. And who wouldn't want to - Branson seems hell-bent on making sure that everybody, but everybody, is having as much fun as he is.'' --Time, praise for the author

''Virgin Group founder Branson reveals the methods that have helped him build his unconventional multibillion-dollar business empire. A prolific and outrageously successful promoter of himself and his myriad businesses, the author provides a rollicking romp through Virgin's fun-loving, iconoclastic approach to building a business and reputation.'' --Kirkus Reviews

''Branson's freewheeling spirit comes across in his leadership style as that of a man who values listening more than talking, keeping things simple, and giving employees a second or even a third chance. His approach may seem casual, but his results speak for themselves.'' --Booklist

About the Author
Richard Branson is an international entrepreneur, adventurer, icon, and the founder of the Virgin Group. His autobiography, Losing My Virginity", and his books on business Screw It, Let s Do It" and Business Stripped Bare" were international bestsellers. He is also the author of Reach for the Skies" and "Screw Business as Usual".

With acting credits that span stage and screen, Gildart Jackson is most often recognized for his role as Gideon on Charmed. Theater roles include Trigorin in The Seagull, Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady, and Adrian in Private Eyes at the Old Globe.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
PART ONE

Chapter 1

OLD BLOCKS AND YOUNG CHIPS

Leadership lessons begin at home

Sometimes the greatest leadership lessons can come from the most unexpected places. Some elements of leadership are almost certainly genetic and there is no escaping the fact that we are all products of our upbringing and our environment. As the saying goes, ‘An apple never falls far from the tree that bore it’. Well, as anyone who knows my mother Eve or my late father Ted will testify, I am certainly no exception to the rule. I recognise a lot of traits in myself that I have clearly inherited from my parents – mostly good – although just a few of the things that drove me nuts about my mum and dad when I was a kid almost certainly had the same effect on my own children.

From my first memories of her, my mum was always on the go, buzzing around the place. She had a seemingly limitless imagination for coming up with new business ideas. I don’t recall her ever considering herself an entrepreneur – that was probably only because I don’t think the word existed back then and if it did nobody knew what it meant – but she was certainly the definition of ‘enterprising’. Eve is a human whirlwind. No matter what the latest big thing was, she’d always manage the whole process by herself from developing the ideas to crafting the products, to making deals with distributors, delivering and selling the goods. Nobody else could get in her way, it was her show and hers alone! I remember being very impressed by one of her more successful ventures, which was building and selling wooden tissue boxes and wastepaper bins. This one made it to some fairly swanky stores but they were generally more local ventures. She was absolutely tenacious, and taught me never to cry over spilt milk. If an item didn’t sell, she’d just write it off, learn from the experience and quite dispassionately move on and try something else. My sisters and I were always being dragged in as unpaid child labour, ‘a labour of love’ she’d call it, or the household chores would be delegated to us while Mum was in manufacturing mode. Obviously I didn’t realise it at the time but there was unquestionably a lot of osmosis going on in that house that would stand me in good stead later in life.

Eve hasn’t changed much even though she is now . . . oops. As she was the one that taught me never to talk about a woman’s age let’s leave it at ‘she is rather well into her eighties’. In her early life she had a spell as a West End dancer, and later became a stewardess for British South American Airways – that was in the really glamorous days of flying when they had to don oxygen masks to cross the Andes. To this day she just never stops moving! I don’t exactly lead a sedentary life myself but I swear that sometimes I have trouble keeping up with her.

One recent example was when quite out of the blue she casually announced her intention to organise a charity polo match – not exactly the kind of thing one expects from an octogenarian! But this wasn’t going to be something on the village green near her home – she was planning to do it in Morocco! Surprised but far from stunned, I told her in no uncertain terms that I thought it a really crazy idea; not only would it be a huge amount of work but it would probably end up costing her money rather than raising it. She listened intently to what I had to say and then went ahead and did it anyway. Not only did it happen but it was a huge success and raised about a quarter of a million dollars. So while I was denied the opportunity to say, ‘See, Mum, I told you so’, I really had to admire her tenacity and so instead simply said (a very quiet) ‘Well done, Mum.’

Another of those family signature characteristics that I am told I have inherited is forever insisting on getting the last word in on any given subject. Well, just to show how flexible I can be on such things, I am going to let Eve have some of the first words in this book so (as a published author herself) I invited her to write a few thoughts. Based on what I’ve just told you about her, see if any of the following sounds familiar? ‘Apples and trees!’

Dear Ricky,

If you're really going to let me say something in your next book, then here it goes.

We saw it in you from virtually the first moment you began to talk. But even before that, when you learned to walk we realised we were going to have our hands full; you were just a toddler but you were clearly someone who liked to do things his own way and on your own terms.

To make matters even more interesting, as you grew you perpetually had some crazy new scheme or other up your sleeve that you were convinced was either going to change the world, make lots of money, or both! On a few such occasions we would say things like, ‘Oh don’t be ridiculous, Ricky! That’s never going to work.’ More often than not, however, your father and I instead opted to give you plenty of scope to learn by your mistakes and so left you to get on with your Christmas tree growing, bird breeding and all the other weird and wonderful enterprises you came up with. Almost without exception they all ended in some form of a disaster with us picking up the pieces – literally and metaphorically – but we’d soldier on and just kept hoping that one day the lessons learned would help you in life.

And that certainly would seem to have turned out to be the case. After a rocky beginning, once you and Virgin had become an established success, Ted and I would often ponder on just how differently you might have turned out had we been more controlling, or some might say ‘better’, parents. What if we had insisted that you not take so many silly risks and, rather than allowing you to drop out of school at sixteen, forced you to buckle down and complete your education? Like your headmaster at Stowe, who famously (now) predicted that by twenty-one you would either be in jail or a millionaire, we too shared some very serious misgivings about what the future might have in store for you.

As we now know, of course, we needn’t have worried. What we saw as being a pig-headed little boy who was utterly determined to do his own thing, turned out to be nothing more than the growing pains of a budding entrepreneur. If only we had been able to recognise that at the time we might have had a lot fewer sleepless nights!

Love, Mum

I read that some wag once said of me, ‘That Branson chap is the luckiest person I know. You just watch – if he ever falls off a high building he’s almost certainly going to fall upwards!’ Please don’t hold your breath on this one as it’s not a theory I intend to test any time soon! Others have suggested that I was simply ‘born lucky’. Perhaps!

In my opinion ‘luck’ is a highly misunderstood commodity. It’s certainly not something that drops out of the heavens, you really can work at helping it along – but more on that later. For now suffice it to say that I came into this world a lot luckier than most people. I had the good fortune to be born into a wonderfully loving family where I enjoyed a safe and ‘sensible’ childhood in post-war England. I grew up in a home where there were few if any excesses, but at the same time my two sisters and I never really wanted for much of anything, especially affection and guidance from our parents.

Looking back on that period of my life I have to heap praise on the stalwart efforts of my mother and father, as I certainly was not the easiest child to bring up. Apart from being dyslexic I was blessed with an indomitable spirit that, whether she wants to admit it or not, unquestionably came from my mother Eve’s side of the family. Perhaps she recognised this kindred spirit in me as she was constantly taking the lead in trying to keep young ‘Ricky’ (that would be me) in line. At the same time it was also very much a team effort with my father Ted, even if the two of them didn’t always realise it at the time.

There are many examples of this. Like one Sunday in church when I point-blank refused to sit next to the son of a friend of my mother’s simply because I didn’t like the child. Despite my mum’s loudly whispered protestations, I instead sat with a friend on the opposite side of the aisle. I really didn’t think it was that big of a deal, so I was utterly shocked when I got back home and, for what might have been the first time ever, my mother insisted that Dad should spank my bottom. She loudly proclaimed that, ‘The boy has to learn that such behaviour will simply not be tolerated in this house.’ As I was thinking, ‘But I didn’t do it in this house’, Dad dragged me out of the room by the scruff of the neck and then, just loudly enough to ensure that Mum would hear him, proclaimed, ‘Okay, young man. It’s time for me to teach you a lesson that you’ll never forget!’

And he certainly did. Following his quickly whispered instructions, I squealed in an appropriately pained manner as my dad proceeded to loudly clap his hands together half a dozen times. In a conspiratorial whisper he then told me to go back in to see Mum and apologise while looking ‘suitably chastised’. It was all I could do to keep my face straight when mid-apology Dad gave me a huge wink from behind Mum’s back.

Dad was really just a big softy at heart, but I am convinced that the way he handled the situation after church that day taught me a far more lasting lesson than a severely bruised bottom (and ego) could ever have achieved. I’m not sure if my mother ever knew about the fake spanking – if she didn’t then when she reads this she certainly will – but there was another more serious occasion when Ted’s parenting skills have stuck with me forever. On the odd occasion I had been guilty of helping myself to a few pennies from the loose change that Dad used to unload from his pockets into the top drawer in his bedroom wardrobe. To my childish amusement I had also discovered it was the same drawer where Dad kept his secret stash of what we used to call ‘dirty books’, but I digress. Helping myself to his change was never something I saw as ‘stealing’ per se. In my juvenile mind I was just kind of ‘borrowing’ it and we’d simply never established the repayment terms or structure.

As it turned out, however, I was the one who was about to get repaid by getting myself into a lot of trouble. We lived just around the corner from a sweet shop and I’d been using my ill-gotten gains to buy chocolate, with Cadbury’s fruit and nut being my particular favourite. One day, though, I’d taken a much bigger ‘loan’ than usual from Dad’s wardrobe bank and promptly done my part to boost Cadbury’s shareholder value. The ‘old lady’ who owned the shop, who at the time was probably all of forty years old, quickly smelled a rat. She said nothing to me, but the next time I was in her shop in the company of my father she staggered me by blurting out, ‘Now I don’t want to get him into any trouble, Mr Branson, but I don’t know where young Richard’s getting all his money from. He’s becoming quite my best customer – so I do hope he isn’t stealing it.’ I remember her words like it were yesterday and thinking, ‘Did she really have to put that zinger on the end?’

But then, just as I was thinking, ‘Oops, I’m really in for it now!’ my dad staggered me by putting his nose right up to hers, looking her straight in the eyes and loudly declaring, ‘Madam, how dare you accuse my son of stealing?’ I was even more surprised when, after we’d marched out of the shop, he never said another word about it. Sometimes, though, the power of the unspoken word can be a frighteningly powerful thing and my father’s studied silence with me for the rest of that day spoke volumes. In addition, the fact that he’d immediately jumped in and vehemently defended his light-fingered son’s integrity made me feel more guilt-ridden and miserable than if he had berated me in front of her.

Dad’s handling of the situation certainly taught me a hugely effective lesson. Not only did I never pinch another penny from my parents, but it also taught me a life-lesson on the power of forgiveness and giving people a second chance. I’d like to say the incident also taught me the importance of ‘giving the benefit of the doubt’, except in that particular case my father was in no doubt whatsoever as to precisely what had been going on.

Some business leaders have built their personal brand images (and businesses) around their quirkiness and outspoken eccentricities, be they hard-nosed, authoritarian or just downright crotchety. Michael O’Leary, CEO of the Irish airline Ryanair, once described his ideal customer as ‘someone with a pulse and a credit card’ and in the same ‘Lunch with the Financial Times’ interview referred to the British Airports Authority as the ‘Evil Empire’ and the UK’s Civil Aviation Authority as a bunch of ‘cretins and twerps’. While nobody can question Ryanair’s incredible financial success (last time I checked the low-cost carrier had built a market cap of over $13 billion), being voted Europe’s ‘least liked’ airline by TripAdvisor subscribers is something that would not sit well with me no matter how good the bottom line looks. American property magnate Donald Trump is another controversial character who seems to be either loved or hated by the consumer and is perhaps most famous for his ‘You’re fired’ line, something he seems to delight in telling people on his TV show The Apprentice. Unlike both these very successful gentlemen I have always believed there are tremendous upsides to a more conciliatory approach to life and business – an attitude that even Michael O’Leary is now publicly proclaiming he wants his much-maligned airline to assume, although it remains to be seen whether or not this particular Celtic Tiger can change his stripes. I’m not a betting man, but if I were, I’m not at all sure I would put money on this one!

While I wouldn’t be foolish enough to pretend that Virgin’s three airlines have never had passengers with valid complaints or that I have never fired anyone, I can honestly say that, unlike Mr Trump, the latter is not something I have ever taken the slightest pleasure in doing. On the contrary, I will usually move heaven and earth to avoid letting someone go, as when it comes to such a last resort I feel both sides have somehow failed each other. It’s so much better, where possible, to try and forgive offenders and give them a second chance, just like my mother and father did so often with me as a child.

I had a very similar incident to my sweet shop experience much later in life only this time it was me who got to play the role of my dad. One day while sitting at Virgin Records I took a phone call from the owner of a nearby record shop who wanted to tip me off to the fact that one of our employees, whom he named, had been offering him piles of brand-new Virgin Records at suspiciously low prices and on a cash-only basis. When he signed off with the words, ‘I just hope he’s not stealing them’, I had a definite déjà vu moment as my mind flashed back to my identical sweet shop indictment as a boy.

Sadly, the person that the record shop man named happened to be someone we considered to be one of our brighter young A & R people and, much as I dislike these kinds of confrontation, on this occasion I had no option but to haul him into the office and repeat what I had just been told. The poor guy went bright red and was clearly horribly embarrassed but he made no attempt to deny or defend his actions, opting instead to simply apologise profusely and say there was really no excuse for his behaviour. Rather than firing him on the spot, however, as he had every right to expect, on the spur of the moment I opted instead to tell him that although he had let himself and the company down very badly we were going to give him a second chance. The look of stunned amazement on his face said it all, and from that day on he worked his socks off for us and went on to have a stellar career, personally discovering some of Virgin Records’ most successful artists along the way – Boy George being just one of them.

When it comes to needing a second chance, however, nobody needs it more than ex-prisoners who are looking to restart their lives after they have served their time. The sad thing is that if they are honest and tick the ‘criminal record’ box on an employment application form they’ll seldom get an interview, let alone a shot at landing the job. Ironically, the result tends to become one huge self-fulfilling prophecy. When they can’t find employment, statistics show that fifty per cent or more of ex-offenders take the seemingly easy way out and resort to crime as the only way to support themselves, and then quickly end up back inside.

My good friend and Comic Relief creator Jane Tewson was the one who first drew my attention to the sad plight of ex-cons. In the process, Jane even succeeded in doing something I have worked long and hard at avoiding – she had me put behind bars. Actually, it wasn’t the first time, but we don’t need to go into that right now! Suffice it to say that Jane encouraged me to see first-hand the challenges prisoners face when attempting to re-enter the workforce by voluntarily spending a day in jail with them. In late 2009, I duly served my day in a high-security prison in Melbourne, Australia and it certainly opened my eyes to the problem ex-prisoners have re-entering society, something about which I had never given a moment’s thought.

While down under I also met with an inspiring group of leaders from The Toll Group, Australia’s largest transportation company. I learned how they had been trying to do their bit to improve the lot of recently released prisoners and had hired almost 500 of them over the previous decade – a number that represents about ten per cent of the company’s workforce. The truly inspirational part of what they told me, though, was that not one of their former inmates had, to the best of their knowledge, ever reoffended!

I have since constantly encouraged all of the Virgin companies around the world to work hard at following Toll’s example. In the UK we have been cooperating closely with the charity Working Chance, which since 2007 has taken the lead in working to place female ex-prisoners back into gainful employment thereby breaking the cycle that can turn one little mistake or bad decision into a life sentence, whether in or out of prison. Last time I checked, Working Chance had placed almost 200 female ex-prisoners with Pret a Manger, Sainsbury’s and a variety of Virgin companies like Virgin Trains and Virgin Management.

Perhaps the biggest irony here is that in 1971, but for the good graces of a British magistrate, I might well have had a prison record myself. I was caught red-handed by Customs and Excise officers in the act of ingeniously (or so my naïve teenage self had thought) ‘manipulating’ purchase taxes on the export and import of record albums. It was only by way of my parents generously posting the family home as collateral for my bail and then my fully paying off the hefty fine I’d been given that I managed to avoid being stuck with a criminal record. Had I actually done time and been branded as an ex-con, then the chances are very real that Virgin might never have happened and the tens of thousands of jobs we have created would never have existed. Had I gone to jail for my stupid teenage error of judgement I would have been the same person as the one who (luckily) did not end up behind bars, but I would almost certainly have been stigmatised by society and almost certainly have led a very different life as a result.

SPEAK NO EVIL

In our living room at home my mum and dad used to have one of those peculiar little statues of the ‘Three Wise Monkeys’ – you may have seen them – that embody the proverbial principle of ‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’. Well, while there wasn’t a lot they could do about the ‘see no evil’ part, they went to great lengths to teach me to never think or speak badly of others.

They encouraged me to always look for the good in people instead of assuming the worst and trying to find fault. If they ever heard me gossiping or talking someone down they would have me go and look at myself in a mirror for five minutes, the idea being that I should see how such behaviour reflected badly on me. I was also taught that fits of pique or any outward displays of anger or rudeness never serve any useful purpose and if anything play only to your disadvantage. It was a lesson that stuck, and to this day I frequently have people say things to me like ‘I really don’t know how you could be so pleasant with those people’ or ‘If I were you I’d have been really angry about what they just did’, when in fact I had just bottled up my emotions. The thing my parents didn’t make any effort to teach me was how to keep my obvious delight at something under wraps, the downside of which is that it doesn’t help my poker game very much.

Whether we like it or not, however, we are all very much the product of our upbringing and our environment. After my little church incident, had my father handled the moment differently and put me across his knee, I would probably still remember the spanking but would have long forgotten what it was for! The importance of the leadership lessons we absorb from our parents and in due course pass along to our own children and those with whom we work cannot be understated.

I have always viewed the maturation of companies as being very much like that of young people. When they are newborn or toddlers they tend to get away with all kinds of stuff on the basis that they are just finding their feet and so they generally enjoy a higher forgiveness factor. If companies survive this stage (many do not), like teenagers they then start to develop acne and other character blemishes while they get a little bit cocky and know-it-all. After that there comes a more mature stage: they have hopefully learned from their mistakes and settled down, but this period is filled with very different kinds of risks, with complacency possibly being the biggest. And once a company reaches the mid-life crisis stage it easily gets lazy, overweight, set in its ways and, like adults, can spend more time looking in the rear-view mirror than forging new ways forward and trying to see what’s around the next corner.

From a leadership perspective, shepherding a company through each of these various stages of growth is not that different to bringing up a child. Just as raising a toddler is very different to keeping a teenager on track and the skill sets may change a little as the company gets older, the fundamentals of parenting and corporate leadership are very closely intertwined. I was reminded of this fact when I recently overheard a friend of mine, who has three incredibly rambunctious young sons, playfully threaten his youngest, eleven-year-old, Charlie that if the going ever got tough, on the basis of last in, first out, he’d be the first one to be let go. I laughed out loud, but it was the boy’s immediate response that really struck home with me. With a big impish smile, he looked his father right in the eye and retorted, ‘But Dad, why would you do that? If you think about it I am much cheaper to keep because I don’t eat nearly as much as my older brothers do.’

The inescapable fact is that learning and leadership are two-way streets and even the oldest and wisest block can pick up a lot from the most junior of chips. Sadly, my father and best friend Ted Branson passed away in early 2010 at the grand old age of ninety-three, leaving a huge hole in his family’s lives. He certainly left his mark on me and but for his wisdom and restraint on more than one occasion, those marks could quite deservedly have made sitting down a very painful process!

Having given my mum the chance to chime in earlier, I am also going to let her have the last word – something she always enjoys! I very much doubt that she will remember saying it, but I certainly have never forgotten the sage advice my mother gave me after a school cricket match. I loved cricket and was generally pretty good at it, but this had been a game in which I had an uncharacteristically timid outing with the bat and before I’d contributed a single run I was clean bowled without so much as a ‘wave of the English Willow’! Driving home afterwards Mum surprised me with her cricketing wisdom when she said, ‘Ricky, as I’m sure you’ll agree, that wasn’t really one of your better performances out there this afternoon. In future just remember one thing: you’re guaranteed to miss every shot you don’t take.’

It was years later before I realised she had probably been talking about a lot more than just cricket!

Chapter 2

THE DYING ART OF LISTENING

Listen – it makes you sound smarter

When I was a boy my parents never let me spend my time watching television. I well remember one time when my mum turned the TV off and asserted that it was going to be ‘the death of conversation’, which immediately provoked a twenty-minute argument with her TV-starved son. After we’d agreed to disagree, Mum couldn’t resist getting the last word in: ‘You see, if you’d been watching TV we wouldn’t just have enjoyed that interesting discussion.’

And, while I may not have appreciated it at the time, as usual, my mother was absolutely correct. Although I may have been denied access to the small screen, I did get to watch my fair share of stuff on the big screen where I was (and still am) a big fan of Westerns, especially those starring the late great John Wayne. Despite all the memorable visual moments in Wayne’s films it was one line that has stuck with me from the movie Big Jake: ‘You’re short on ears and long on mouth.’ Even without the classic John Wayne drawl, it is such a great way to describe one of the most common human failings – listening too little and talking too much – that I have been borrowing it ever since.

L-I-S-T-E-N

One thing I do remember from an English class at school was when a teacher pointed out that if you want to play anagrams with the above letters they also form the word SILENT. As an ardent Scrabble fan and being a little more tuned in than usual that day, I recall precociously pointing out that the letters could also spell ENLIST. This led to a class discussion, which has clearly stuck with me: if more of us could ‘enlist’ the art of remaining ‘silent’ in order to ‘listen’ we would, in one fell swoop, dramatically improve our ability to learn and get a lot more out of our time at school.

Maybe the class discussion was too little too late for me as within a year or so of that English class I had left Stowe in order to launchStudent, my own magazine, and soon found myself putting that teacher’s words into practice. I remember as if it were yesterday, interviewing novelist John le Carré whose 1963 breakthrough novel The Spy Who Came in From the Cold was an instant bestseller. I was as nervous as a kitten as I frantically scribbled down notes on his responses to my carefully prepared list of questions. I often carried a big old reel-to-reel Grundig tape recorder, although it was more to give me the appearance of being a professional than anything else as half the time it never worked. That was when I took up what was to become a lifetime habit: I began capturing my thoughts, observations and just about anything of interest that someone said or did in my hard-backed lined notebooks.

In the forty-odd years that I have been in business – wow, just writing that makes me suddenly feel ancient – those now hundreds of notebooks have served me incredibly well. And I am not talking about just their day-to-day aide-memoire uses, but in four major lawsuits with British Airways, G-Tech, T-Mobile and most recently with our run-in with the UK Department for Transport on the West Coast train franchise renewal. Listening is a wonderful skill, but given that the average human brain tends to store a very small percentage of what, at the time, may seem like insignificant statements and ideas, those books fill in a lot of what otherwise would be blank spaces in my memory bank. Acquiring the habit of note-taking is therefore a wonderfully complementary skill to that of listening. Please write this down right now so you don’t forget it!

Unfortunately, as leadership skills go, listening gets a bit of a ‘bum rap’ – that may also have been a John Wayne line. It’s such a seemingly passive thing that many people misguidedly see it as almost a sign of weakness – as in ‘Did you notice Harry hardly said a word in the meeting, I wonder what his problem is?’ Such a viewpoint is almost certainly fuelled by the historical association between great leaders and great orators being powerful people. Ask a Brit of my generation whom they would consider to be history’s greatest leader and like me they’d probably name wartime prime minister Sir Winston Churchill. Ask for a speech and they’d almost certainly reference his 1940 ‘this was their finest hour’ broadcast. Had I grown up in the US, the chances are that I would probably put John F. Kennedy on the same pedestal and perhaps justify the choice by referencing his famous ‘Ask not what your country can do for you’ speech.

Don’t get me wrong, both these men were iconic leaders and the importance of having the ability to express one’s thoughts in an articulate and compelling manner is a tremendous asset – and certainly in our video clip/sound-bite driven world, a lot more newsworthy than being a great listener; news footage that features ‘and here we see the president listening intently as only he can’ is hardly going to move the opinion polls! Oratorical excellence, however, is just one of a compendium of leadership skills and not the be-all and end-all that some would believe it to be. Apart from anything else, the majority of world leaders and captains of industry don’t actually write their own speeches – Churchill being one highly notable exception to this rule – so it is dangerous to judge them by words that are not their own but rather the work of highly paid speech writers. Winston Churchill was, however, renowned for his ability to sit down and listen to anyone and everyone, and his view on the importance of listening is evidenced by another quote often attributed to him,‘Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.’

Could it be that his skills as a listener might have been one of the things that made him such a great writer and speaker? I would venture to submit that it is no small coincidence.

LISTENING IS NOT HEARING

If there were ever a dead giveaway that somebody is not listening to a word of what you’re saying, it’s when they repeatedly use the annoying phrase, ‘I hear you, I hear you.’ Unfortunately, hearing is not listening. On a recent long-haul flight I could most assuredly hear the infant a few seats behind me that cried incessantly for the whole night, but I didn’t care to listen to it. I can hear the wind in the trees but I don’t take as much time as I should to listen to that either. And I don’t believe it’s entirely a matter of semantics. When someone says, ‘I heard every word he said’, in a strictly literal sense they may be telling the truth, but fifty per cent of the time they could probably just as truthfully add, ‘although I didn’t absorb one iota of it.’ Paradoxically, while I have always prided myself on being a good listener, I may have had an unfair advantage on most people. Having grown up with dyslexia I learned very early in life that if I wanted to take anything in then I had to force myself to listen intently. Not only that, but in order to have any chance of remembering what I was listening to, I also had to make the effort to take copious handwritten notes: a habit that I still diligently practise to this day.

As an adult in business I have used this lesson to great advantage. I’ve also discovered that, as an adjunct to listening to what people have to say, my now infamous and utterly low-tech notebook is one of the most powerful tools I have in my bag of business tricks. Apart from helping me remember little things I want to bring up with one of our airlines, like ‘Add cold – not hot towel service’ as I am travelling, more importantly I can’t begin to count the number of times when referring to my notebooks has given me a clearly unexpected advantage on much bigger issues. A typical situation would be when someone says, ‘Well, Richard, as I recall when we last spoke in early March, we agreed to get a draft proposal to you by the end of April’, and they are totally discombobulated by a response of, ‘Well, no, at least not according to my notes of our last conversation. At 3.15 p.m. on 7 February you promised you were going to have the complete business plan to us by 31 March at the latest.’ Nailed! I even had someone once suggest that I had been illegally recording my phone conversations with him – like some kind of a Nixon White House tapes deal – but shut him down by saying, ‘Yes, I do record a lot conversations but with a pen and a notebook!’

I suspect that over the years ‘Richard’s thing about taking notes’ has become legend around the Virgin family of companies as I always detect a much higher percentage of note-takers at internal meetings than with outside parties. For example, I recently had a day-long series of meetings on Necker with a group of about twenty senior people and I couldn’t help but observe that our own people seemed to be the only ones taking any serious notes. I don’t know if the senior executives present were accustomed to having an assistant to take the minutes, or if they somehow felt it was beneath them to take notes – or maybe they all felt they had photographic memories – but I was distinctly unimpressed. One of the outside executives did peck away at his iPad on a regular basis, but based on the semi-furtive way he went about doing it, rather than taking notes I suspected he was responding to emails or playing Words With Friends.

Call me old-fashioned if you will, but the all-too-common practice of texting or emailing under the boardroom table in the middle of a meeting is something that I find extremely irritating and downright disrespectful to everyone else in the room. I am not a big fan of lengthy meetings at the best of times, but is it really asking too much to have someone’s undivided attention for an hour without them having to constantly demonstrate their self-perceived indispensability by electronically tuning out every few minutes? I think not.

Most helpful customer reviews

0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
A solid read even in a crowded field
By Shawn C.
I have always admired Richard Branson from a distance and what I read/heard about in the news. He's always risky yet calculating enough to be successful. Now, with this book, I can see him and his beliefs from a much more personal perspective including stories of his family and childhood. Note, though, that you won't get into in depth "how-to's" and this is more general leadership philosophy. If you're ok with that, then you won't be disappointed by this book even in the already-crowded business leadership book field. This is posted only a week or two after the Virgin Galactic test flight crash that took the life of one test pilot, and Richard's (don't call him anything more formal!) response has certainly fit with his character you read about here. While his editor let slip some misspellings like "colour" and "favourite" instead of "color" and "favorite", the rest of the book is top notch! (and yes, that was said tongue-in-cheek for our friends across the pond) =)

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful.
I just started the book but I am really enjoying ...
By Richard Hahn
I just started the book but I am really enjoying it because I own a small company and at this moment I am in the process of turning the company over to my daughter and son in law. My reason for loving the book thus far is comparing my style of management with my children's style combined with what Richard Branson says about his style of management.

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful.
Literally read the book from cover to cover.
By Mari Ann and Steve Lisenbe
As a business owner myself, I highly recommend this book. Richard proves that you can do things right, treat people well, and still be highly successful. And, according to Richard, have a ton of fun in the process (I'm still working on that one!).

Richard has an easy to read style of writing. I literally read the book from cover to cover.

See all 113 customer reviews...

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martes, 1 de junio de 2010

[X547.Ebook] Ebook A Spy Among Friends: Kim Philby and the Great Betrayal, by Ben Macintyre

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A Spy Among Friends: Kim Philby and the Great Betrayal, by Ben Macintyre

Master storyteller Ben Macintyre’s most ambitious work to date brings to life the twentieth century’s greatest spy story.


Kim Philby was the greatest spy in history, a brilliant and charming man who rose to head Britain’s counterintelligence against the Soviet Union during the height of the Cold War—while he was secretly working for the enemy. And nobody thought he knew Philby like Nicholas Elliott, Philby’s best friend and fellow officer in MI6. The two men had gone to the same schools, belonged to the same exclusive clubs, grown close through the crucible of wartime intelligence work and long nights of drink and revelry. It was madness for one to think the other might be a communist spy, bent on subverting Western values and the power of the free world.
 
But Philby was secretly betraying his friend. Every word Elliott breathed to Philby was transmitted back to Moscow—and not just Elliott’s words, for in America, Philby had made another powerful friend: James Jesus Angleton, the crafty, paranoid head of CIA counterintelligence. Angleton's and Elliott’s unwitting disclosures helped Philby sink almost every important Anglo-American spy operation for twenty years, leading countless operatives to their doom. Even as the web of suspicion closed around him, and Philby was driven to greater lies to protect his cover, his two friends never abandoned him—until it was too late. The stunning truth of his betrayal would have devastating consequences on the two men who thought they knew him best, and on the intelligence services he left crippled in his wake.
 
Told with heart-pounding suspense and keen psychological insight, and based on personal papers and never-before-seen British intelligence files, A Spy Among Friends is Ben Macintyre’s best book yet, a high-water mark in Cold War history telling.


From the Hardcover edition.

  • Sales Rank: #17931 in Books
  • Brand: MacIntyre, Ben/ Le Carre, John (AFT)
  • Published on: 2015-05-12
  • Released on: 2015-05-12
  • Original language: English
  • Number of items: 1
  • Dimensions: 8.00" h x 1.10" w x 5.20" l, .0 pounds
  • Binding: Paperback
  • 384 pages

Review
New York Times Bestseller

New York Times Book Review Notable Book

An Amazon Best Book of the Year

Washington Post Notable Book

Entertainment Weekly's Best Spy Book of 2014

“Macintyre has produced more than just a spy story. He has written a narrative about that most complex of topics, friendship...When devouring this thriller, I had to keep reminding myself it was not a novel. It reads like a story by Graham Greene, Ian Fleming, or John Le Carré, leavened with a dollop of P.G. Wodehouse...[Macintyre] takes a fresh look at the grandest espionage drama of our era.”—Walter Isaacson, New York Times Book Review

“Superb… Riveting reading.” –Malcolm Gladwell, The New Yorker

“Macintyre does here what he does best — tell a heck of a good story. A Spy Among Friends is hands down the most entertaining book I’ve reviewed this year.” —Boston Globe

“Macintyre is a superb writer, with an eye for the telling detail as fine as any novelist’s…A Spy Among Friends is as suspenseful as any novel, too, as the clues tighten around Philby’s guilt.”—Dallas Morning News

“By now, the story of British double agent Harold ‘Kim’ Philby may be the most familiar spy yarn ever, fodder for whole libraries of histories, personal memoirs and novels. But Ben Macintyre manages to retell it in a way that makes Philby’s destructive genius fresh and horridly fascinating.”—David Ignatius, Washington Post

“A Spy Among Friends is a rollicking book. Mr. Macintyre is full of pep and never falters in the headlong rush of his narrative.”—Wall Street Journal

“Vivid and fascinating...[Macintyre] succeeds admirably.”—Newsday

“A crisply written tale of a classic intelligence case that remains relevant more than 50 years later.”—USA Today

“Excellent...I was thoroughly engrossed in this book, beginning to end. It has all the suspense of a good spy novel, and its characters are a complex mix of charm, eccentricity, intelligence and wit. And it offers a great--and mostly troubling—insight into the behind-the-scenes workings of those we entrust with the most important of our political and military secrets.”—The Huffington Post

“Working with colorful characters and an anything-can-happen attitude, Macintyre builds up a picture of an intelligence community chock-full of intrigue and betrayal, in which Philby was the undisputed king of lies…Entertaining and lively, Macintyre’s account makes the best fictional thrillers seem tame.” —Publishers Weekly [starred]

“Gripping and as well-crafted as an episode of Smiley’s People, full of cynical inevitability, secrets, lashings of whiskey and corpses.” —Kirkus Reviews [starred]

“Ben Macintyre (Double Cross) offers a fresh look at master double agent Kim Philby…Fans of James Bond will enjoy this look into the era that inspired Ian Fleming's novels, but any suspense-loving student of human nature will be shocked and thrilled by this true narrative of deceit.”—Shelf Awareness [starred]

“Ben Macintyre has a knack for finding the most fascinating storylines in history. He has done it again, with this spellbinding tale of espionage, friendship, and betrayal. Written with an historian’s fidelity to fact and a novelist’s eye for character, A Spy Among Friends is one terrific book.” —David Grann, New York Times bestselling author of The Lost City of Z
 
“Ben Macintyre is one of the most gifted espionage writers around. In A Spy Among Friends he weaves an absorbing tale of deceit and duplicity, of treason and betrayal. With exquisite detail and masterful control, Macintyre unveils the dark and treacherous interior worlds in which spies live.” —Annie Jacobsen, author of Area 51 and Operation Paperclip

“In this spellbinding account of friendship and betrayal, Ben Macintyre masterfully describes how the Cambridge-educated Kim Philby evaded justice by exploiting the incestuous snobbery of the British old-boy network, which refused to believe that one of its own could be a major Soviet spy. As riveting as Macintyre’s earlier books were, this searing portrait of Britain's ruling class is even better.” —Lynne Olson, bestselling author of Citizens of London and Those Angry Days
 
“Ben Macintyre has written a truly fabulous book about the "fabulous" Kim Philby—the suave, dedicated, and most intriguing spy of the entire Cold War era. Philby and his colorful Cambridge comrades are endlessly fascinating. But Macintyre tells the devastating story in an entirely new fashion, with new sources and an astonishing intimacy.”
 —Kai Bird, Pulitzer Prize-winning biographer and author of The Good Spy: The Life and Death of Robert Ames 

“I have seldom had a better read than A Spy Among Friends.  It reads like a thriller, a thriller of a peculiarly intricate and at times frightening sort, but you just can’t stop reading it.”  —Lady Antonia Fraser, author of Marie Antoinette: The Journey

“The Philby story has been told many times, but never with such sensitivity. Almost inadvertently, Ben Macintyre, a Times columnist, provides a devastating critique of the British class system and the disasters that result when people assume they know people… A Spy Among Friends is an extraordinary book about a sordid profession in which the most important attribute is the ability to lie…. Macintyre’s focus on friendship brings an intimacy to this book that is missing from the cardboard stereotypes that populate spy novels and conventional espionage histories…I’m not a lover of spy novels, yet I adored this book.” –The Times of London
 
“Macintyre writes with the diligence and insight of a journalist, and the panache of a born storyteller, concentrating on Philby's friendship with and betrayal of Elliott and of Angleton, his pathetically dedicated admirer at the top of the CIA. Macintyre's account of the verbal duel between Elliott and Philby in their final confrontation in Beirut in 1963 is worthy of John le Carré at his best.”–The Guardian

“A Spy Among Friends, a classic spookfest, is also a brilliant reconciliation of history and entertainment…An unputdownable postwar thriller whose every incredible detail is fact not fiction…[a] spellbinding narrative…Part of the archetypal grip this story holds for the reader is as a case study in the existential truth that, in human relations, the Other is never really knowable. For both, the mask became indistinguishable from reality…A Spy Among Friends is not just an elegy, it is an unforgettable requiem.” –The Observer
 
“Ben Macintyre’s bottomlessly fascinating new book is an exploration of Kim Philby’s friendships, particularly with Nicholas Elliott… Other books on Philby may have left one with a feeling of grudging respect, but A Spy Among Friends draws out his icy cold heart…This book consists of 300 pages; I would have been happy had it been three times as long.” –The Mail on Sunday 
 
“Such a summary does no justice to Macintyre's marvellously shrewd and detailed account of Philby's nefarious career. It is both authoritative and enthralling... The book is all the more intriguing because it carries an afterward by John le Carré.” –The New Statesman

“No one writes about deceit and subterfuge so dramatically, authoritatively or  perceptively [as Ben Macintyre]. To read A Spy Among Friends is a bit like climbing aboard a runaway train in terms of speed and excitement–except that Macintyre knows exactly where he is going and is in total control of his material.” –The Daily Mail
 
“Philby's story has been told many times before–both in biography and most notably in John le Carre's fictional masterpiece Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy–but never in such exhaustive detail and with such panache as in Ben MacIntyre's brilliant, compulsive A Spy Among Friends… Reads like fiction, which is testament to the extraordinary power of the story itself but also to the skills of the storyteller…One of the best real-life spy stories one is ever likely to read.” –The Express
 
 “Ben Macintyre has written an engaging book on a tantalising and ultimately tragic subject. If it starts as a study of friendship, it ends as an indictment.” –The Spectator


From the Hardcover edition.

About the Author
BEN MACINTYRE is a writer-at-large for The Times of London and the bestselling author of Double Cross, Operation Mincemeat, Agent Zigzag, The Napoleon of Crime, and Forgotten Fatherland, among other books. Macintyre has also written and presented BBC documentaries of his work.


From the Hardcover edition.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One

Apprentice Spy

One moment Nicholas Elliott was at Ascot Racecourse, watching the favorite, Quashed, come romping home at 7-2, and the next, rather to his own surprise, he was a spy. The date was June 15, 1939, three months before the outbreak of the deadliest conflict in history. He was twenty-two.

It happened over a glass of champagne. John Nicholas Rede Elliott's father, Sir Claude Aurelius Elliott, OBE, was headmaster of Eton (England's grandest public school), a noted mountaineer, and a central pillar of the British establishment. Sir Claude knew everybody who was anybody and nobody who wasn't somebody, and among the many important men he knew was Sir Robert Vansittart, chief diplomatic adviser to His Majesty's government, who had close links to the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS), better known as MI6, the agency responsible for intelligence gathering abroad. Nicholas Elliott arranged to meet "Van" at Ascot and, over drinks, mentioned that he thought he might like to join the intelligence service.

Sir Robert Vansittart smiled and replied: "I am relieved you have asked me for something so easy."

"So that was that," Elliott wrote many years later.

The old boys' recruitment network had worked perfectly.

Nicholas Elliott was not obviously cut out to be a spy. His academic record was undistinguished. He knew little about the complexities of international politics, let alone the dextrous and dangerous game being played by MI6 in the run-up to war. Indeed, he knew nothing whatsoever about espionage, but he thought spying sounded exciting and important and exclusive. Elliott was self-confident as only a well-bred, well-heeled young Etonian, newly graduated from Cambridge University, with all the right social connections, can be. He was born to rule (though he would never have expressed that belief so indelicately), and membership in the most selective club in Britain seemed like a good place to start doing so.

The Elliotts were part of the backbone of the empire; for generations, they had furnished military officers, senior clerics, lawyers, and colonial administrators who ensured that Britain continued to rule the waves--and much of the globe in between. One of Nicholas Elliott's grandfathers had been the lieutenant governor of Bengal; the other, a senior judge. Like many powerful English families, the Elliotts were also notable for their eccentricity. Nicholas's great-uncle Edgar famously took a bet with another Indian Army officer that he could smoke his height in cheroots every day for three months, then smoked himself to death in two. Great-aunt Blanche was said to have been "crossed in love" at the age of twenty-six and thereafter took to her bed, where she remained for the next fifty years. Aunt Nancy firmly believed that Catholics were not fit to own pets since they did not believe animals had souls. The family also displayed a profound but frequently fatal fascination with mountain climbing. Nicholas's uncle, the Reverend Julius Elliott, fell off the Matterhorn in 1869, shortly after meeting Gustave Flaubert, who declared him "the epitome of the English gentleman." Eccentricity is one of those English traits that look like frailty but mask a concealed strength; individuality disguised as oddity.

Towering over Nicholas's childhood was his father, Claude, a man of immovable Victorian principles and ferocious prejudices. Claude loathed music, which gave him indigestion, despised all forms of heating as "effete," and believed that "when dealing with foreigners the best plan was to shout at them in English." Before becoming headmaster of Eton, Claude Elliott had taught history at Cambridge University, despite an ingrained distrust of academics and an aversion to intellectual conversation. The long university vacations gave him plenty of time for mountain climbing. He might have become the most celebrated climber of his generation, but for a kneecap broken by a fall in the Lake District, which prevented him from joining Mallory's Everest expedition. A dominating figure physically and psychologically, Claude was nicknamed "the Emperor" by the boys at Eton. Nicholas regarded his father with awed reverence; in return, Claude alternately ignored or teased his only child, believing, like many fathers of his time and class, that displaying affection would make his son "soft" and quite possibly homosexual. Nicholas grew up convinced that "Claude was highly embarrassed by my very existence." His mother avoided all intimate topics of conversation, according to her only son, including "God, Disease and Below the Waist."

The young Elliott was therefore brought up by a succession of nannies and then shunted off to Durnford School in Dorset, a place with a tradition of brutality extreme even by the standards of British prep schools: every morning the boys were made to plunge naked into an unheated pool for the pleasure of the headmaster, whose wife liked to read improving literature out loud in the evenings with her legs stretched out over two small boys while a third tickled the soles of her feet. There was no fresh fruit, no toilets with doors, no restraint on bullying, and no possibility of escape. Today such an institution would be illegal; in 1925 it was considered "character-forming." Elliott left his prep school with the conviction that "nothing as unpleasant could ever recur," an ingrained contempt for authority, and a hardy sense of humor.

Eton seemed like a paradise after the "sheer hell" of Durnford, and having his father as headmaster posed no particular problem for Nicholas, since Claude continued to pretend he wasn't there. Highly intelligent, cheerful, and lazy, the young Elliott did just enough work to get by: "The increased legibility of his handwriting only serves to reveal the inadequacy of his ability to spell," noted one report. He was elected to his first club, Pop, the Eton institution reserved for the most popular boys in the school. It was at Eton that Elliott discovered a talent for making friends. In later life he would look back on this as his most important skill, the foundation of his career.

Basil Fisher was Elliott's first and closest friend. A glamorous figure with an impeccable academic and sporting record, Fisher was captain of the First XI, the chairman of Pop, and son of a bona fide war hero, Basil senior having been killed by a Turkish sniper at Gaza in 1917. The two friends shared every meal, spent their holidays together, and occasionally slipped into the headmaster's house, when Claude was at dinner, to play billiards. Photographs from the time show them arm in arm, beaming happily. Perhaps there was a sexual element to their relationship, but probably not. Hitherto, Elliott had loved only his nanny, "Ducky Bit" (her real name is lost to history). He worshipped Basil Fisher.

In the autumn of 1935 the two friends went up to Cambridge. Naturally, Elliott went to Trinity, his father's old college. On his first day at the university, he visited the writer and poet Robert Gittings, an acquaintance of his father, to ask a question that had been troubling him: "How hard should I work, and at what?" Gittings was a shrewd judge of character. As Elliott remembered: "He strongly advised me to use my three years at Cambridge to enjoy myself in the interval before the next war"--advice that Elliott followed to the letter. He played cricket, punted, drove around Cambridge in a Hillman Minx, and attended and gave some very good parties. He read a lot of spy novels. On weekends he went shooting or to the races at Newmarket. Cambridge in the 1930s boiled with ideological conflict; Hitler had taken power in 1933; the Spanish civil war would erupt in the summer of 1936; extreme Right and extreme Left fought it out in university rooms and on the streets. But the fervid political atmosphere simply passed Elliott by. He was far too busy having fun. He seldom opened a book and emerged after three years with many friends and a third-class degree, a result he considered "a triumph over the examiners."

Nicholas Elliott left Cambridge with every social and educational advantage and absolutely no idea what he wanted to do. But beneath a complacent and conventional exterior and the "languid, upper-class manner" lay a more complex personality, an adventurer with a streak of subversion. Claude Elliott's Victorian rigidity had instilled in his son a deep aversion to rules. "I could never be a good soldier because I am insufficiently amenable to discipline," he reflected. When told to do something, he tended to "obey not the order which he had actually been given by a superior, but rather the order which that superior would have given if he had known what he was talking about." He was tough--the brutality of Durnford had seen to that--but also sensitive, bruised by a lonely childhood. Like many Englishmen, he concealed his shyness behind a defensive barrage of jokes. Another paternal legacy was the conviction that he was physically unattractive; Claude had once told him he was "plug ugly," and he grew up believing it. Certainly Elliott was not classically handsome, with his gangly frame, thin face, and thick-rimmed glasses, but he had poise, a barely concealed air of mischief, and a resolute cheerfulness that women were instantly drawn to. It took him many years to conclude that he "was no more or less odd to look at than a reasonable proportion of my fellow creatures." Alongside a natural conservatism he had inherited the family propensity for eccentricity. He was no snob. He could strike up a conversation with anyone from any walk of life. He did not believe in God or Marx or capitalism; he had faith in King, country, class, and club (White's Club, in his case, the gentleman's club in St James's). But above all he believed in friendship.

In the summer of 1938 Basil Fisher took a job in the City, while Elliott wondered idly what to do with himself. The old boys soon solved that. Elliott was playing in a cricket match at Eton that summer when, during the tea interval, he was approached by Sir Nevile Bland, a senior diplomat and family friend, who tactfully observed that Elliott's father was concerned by his son's "inability to get down to a solid job of work." (Sir Claude preferred to speak to his son through emissaries.) Sir Nevile explained that he had recently been appointed Britain's minister at The Hague, in the Netherlands. Would Nicholas like to accompany him as honorary attaché? Elliott said he would like that very much, despite having no idea what an honorary attaché might actually do. "There was no serious vetting procedure," Elliott later wrote. "Nevile simply told the Foreign Office that I was all right because he knew me and had been at Eton with my father."

Before leaving, Elliott underwent a code training course at the Foreign Office. His instructor was one Captain John King, a veteran cipher clerk who was also, as it happened, a Soviet spy. King had been passing Foreign Office telegrams to Moscow since 1934. Elliott's first tutor in secrecy was a double agent.

Elliott arrived at The Hague in his Hillman Minx in the middle of November 1938 and reported to the legation. After dinner, Sir Nevile offered him a warning--"in the diplomatic service it is a sackable offense to sleep with the wife of a colleague"--and some advice--"I suggest you should do as I do and not light your cigar until you have started your third glass of port." Elliott's duties were hardly onerous--a little light bag carrying for the minister, some coding and decoding in the wireless room, and attendance at formal dinners.

Elliott had been in the Netherlands only four months when he got his first taste of clandestine work and an "opportunity to see the German war machine at first hand." One evening, over dinner, he fell into conversation with a young naval officer named Glyn Hearson, the assistant naval attaché at the embassy in Berlin. Commander Hearson confided that he was on a special mission to spy on the port of Hamburg, where the Germans were believed to be developing midget submarines. After a few more glasses, Hearson asked Elliott if he would care to join him. Elliott thought this a splendid idea. Sir Nevile gave his approval.

Two days later, at three in the morning, Elliott and Hearson broke into Hamburg's port by climbing over the wall. "We discreetly poked our noses all over the place for about an hour" taking photographs, Elliott recalled, before "returning to safety and a stiff drink." Elliott had no diplomatic cover and no training, and Hearson had no authority to recruit him for the mission. Had they been caught, they might have been shot as spies; at the very least, the news that the son of the Eton headmaster had been caught snooping around a German naval dockyard in the middle of the night would have set off a diplomatic firestorm. It was, Elliott happily admitted, "a singularly foolhardy exploit." But it had been most enjoyable and highly successful. They drove on to Berlin in high spirits.

April 20, 1939, was Hitler's fiftieth birthday, a national holiday in Nazi Germany and the occasion for the largest military parade in the history of the Third Reich. Organized by propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels, the festivities marked a high point of the Hitler cult, a lavish display of synchronized sycophancy. A torchlight parade and cavalcade of fifty white limousines, led by the Fuhrer, was followed by a fantastic five-hour exhibition of military muscle involving fifty thousand German troops, hundreds of tanks, and 162 warplanes. The ambassadors of Britain, France, and the United States did not attend, having been withdrawn after Hitler's march on Czechoslovakia, but some twenty-three other countries sent representatives to wish Hitler a happy birthday. "The Fuhrer is feted like no other mortal has ever been," gushed Goebbels in his diary.

Elliott watched the celebrations, with a mixture of awe and horror, from a sixth-floor apartment in the Charlottenburger Chaussee belonging to General Noel Mason-MacFarlane, the British military attaché in Berlin. "Mason-Mac" was a whiskery old warhorse, a decorated veteran of the trenches and Mesopotamia. He could not hide his disgust. From the balcony of the apartment there was a clear view of Hitler on his saluting podium. The general remarked under his breath to Elliott that Hitler was well within rifle range: "I am tempted to take advantage of this," he muttered, adding that he could "pick the bastard off from here as easy as winking." Elliott "strongly urged him to take a pot shot." Mason-MacFarlane thought better of the idea, though he later made a formal request to be allowed to assassinate Hitler from his balcony. Sadly for the world, the offer was turned down.

Elliott returned to The Hague with two newly minted convictions: that Hitler must be stopped at all costs and that the best way of contributing to this end would be to become a spy. "My mind was easily made up." A day at Ascot, a glass of fizz with Sir Robert Vansittart, and a meeting with an important person in Whitehall did the rest. Elliott returned to The Hague still officially an honorary attaché but in reality, with Sir Nevile Bland's blessing, a new recruit to the Secret Intelligence Service, or MI6. Outwardly his diplomatic life continued as before; secretly he began his novitiate in the strange religion of British intelligence.

Sir Robert Vansittart, the Foreign Office mandarin who smoothed Elliott's way into MI6, ran what was, in effect, a private intelligence agency outside the official orbit of government but with close links to both MI6 and MI5, the Security Service. Vansittart was a fierce opponent of appeasement, convinced that Germany would start another war "just as soon as it feels strong enough." His network of spies gathered copious intelligence on Nazi intentions, with which he tried (and failed) to persuade Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain of the looming confrontation. One of his earliest and most colorful informants was Jona von Ustinov, a German journalist and fierce secret opponent of Nazism. Ustinov was universally known as "Klop," Russian slang for bedbug, a nickname that derived from his rotund appearance, of which he was, oddly, intensely proud. Ustinov's father was a Russian-born army officer; his mother was half Ethiopian and half Jewish; his son, born in 1921, was Peter Ustinov, the great comic actor and writer. Klop Ustinov had served in the German army during the First World War, winning an Iron Cross, before taking up a post with the German Press Agency in London. He lost his job in 1935 when the German authorities, suspicious of his exotically mixed heritage, demanded proof of his Aryanism. That same year he was recruited as a British agent, code-named "U35." Ustinov was fat and monocled, with a deceptively bumbling demeanor. He was "the best and most ingenious operator I had the honor to work with," declared Dick White, his case officer, who would go on to head both MI5 and MI6.



Excerpted from A Spy Among Friends by Ben Macintyre Copyright © 2014 by Ben Macintyre. Excerpted by permission of Crown, a division of Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Most helpful customer reviews

155 of 163 people found the following review helpful.
A Spy Among Friends
By S Riaz
Ben Macintyre is a great writer and, in this latest book, he has turned his attention to Kim Philby – one of the Cambridge Spies. Historically, this book may not offer much that is new, but it does tell the story from a different viewpoint ; that of his friendships, most notably with Nicholas Elliott. In other words, this is not really a straight-forward biography of Philby, but focuses on his personality and on the Old Boy network that enabled him to evade detection for so long. The book begins with the meeting between Philby and Elliott in Beirut in January, 1963, with Elliott confronting his former friend about his betrayal of his country and trying to obtain a confession. He must certainly have felt betrayed personally too, as he had done much to protect Philby from earlier suspicions by MI5 – defending and helping him when he was in difficulty.

This fascinating account looks at the early life of both men, their meeting during WWII and their career in the Secret Intelligence Service. Kim Philby was, from the beginning, a Soviet agent. Along with the Cambridge Spies; Guy Burgess, Donald Maclean, Anthony Blunt and John Cairncross, he was so successful that his Soviet spymasters suspected him of being a double agent. As well as being a close friend of Elliott, he also became the mentor of James Jesus Angleton, an American and one of the most powerful spies in history. The Old Boy network which had brought both Elliott and Philby into the intelligence service meant that while agents were secretive outside of their immediate circle, they were horribly indiscreet within it, trusting on bonds of class and social networking to protect them.

During this book, we read of Elliott’s and Philby’s career, and personal life, including the jaw dropping appointment of Philby as head of the Soviet Section. As the Second World War ended and the Cold War began, Philby was able to inform Moscow of exactly what Britain was doing to counter Soviet espionage and, indeed, their own espionage efforts against Moscow. There is no doubt that Philby’s actions were an odd mix of defiant belief in the Soviet Union and an inability to take responsibility for his own actions. His passing of information to his Soviet masters led to many people losing their lives. Yet, despite his own reluctance to finally defect to Russia (he called himself a ‘Russian’ but lived there as an almost stereotypical Englishman) he was insistent that he had carried out instructions out of a (misguided) loyalty and was seemingly untroubled about the, often terrible, consequences. Also, although he was constantly loyal to Russia, he rarely spoke of politics. It was as though, having decided on his beliefs, he simply put them out of his mind and stayed true to them, despite any conflicting, or disturbing, evidence – such as the disappearance of successive Soviet spymasters that he looked up to and respected.

As Kim Philby’s life descended into the drama of defection, Macintyre asks whether he was, in fact, allowed to escape. Would his possible trial been such an embarrassment to the British government that he was simply given the chance to leave? However, the real core of this book is his friendship with Nicholas Elliott and the two men are almost given equal space. Angleton comes to the fore when Philby is in the States, and is important to the book, but the central relationship was Philby and Elliott. Personally, I found this a really interesting read and there is an enjoyable afterword, written by John le Carre. It is impossible to defend Kim Philby for his actions, but his story – both personal and as a spy – are certainly larger than life. If you have read anything by Ben Macintyre before, you will know that this is a not a dry and academic account, but reads almost like a spy novel. If you were not aware that it is factual, you would assume that this astonishing account was pure fiction – but it is certainly a riveting read and another well written and entertaining book from the talented Ben Macintyre.

66 of 72 people found the following review helpful.
A surprising 5 star read
By Chris Thatcher
Why surprising? Well it is not the sort of book I would expect to be "unputdownable" but it is.
Kim Philby lives through this book as an enigmatic yet charismatic double agent whose exploits over many years astound.
If you like spy thrillers give this book a try. Ben Macintyre writes great accounts of things that happened but in a way that engages and persuades you to draw in closer. Try his other books too.

My only moan (directed at Amazon not the author) is that if you like to read the notes on each Chapter (as I do) in Kindle this totally messes up the process of tracking your last page read. Something they could no doubt correct but choose not to.
Great book - good read!

34 of 36 people found the following review helpful.
The endless fascination of espionage
By Lady Fancifull
This is an excellent, readable account of Kim Philby's life, and indeed of the whole culture of espionage from the lead-up to the Second World War, through the war years, and then into the period of the Cold War, when Russia, not Germany, was seen as the enemy by the West, and particularly by the UK and America. Author and journalist Ben Macintyre is clearly fascinated by the subject of espionage as he has written several other factual books on this topic. His research is extensive, and this particular book has a revealing postscript by John le Carre, who of course also worked in the Secret Service.

Macintyre starts his book with that very well known, and also in some ways, given the time of its writing, (1938) that very shocking statement by the novelist E.M.Forster:

"If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friends, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country"

What in the end the Forster quote implies is that `country' like ideology itself, can, taken to an extreme, lead to the devaluing of an individual life. The ism elevated above the humans who live within the ism, or believe the ism. Fidelity to the ism (nationalism, specific faith or political ideology ism) can lead to the terrible things that happen when not just the other person's ism, but indeed, the person themselves, becomes expendable for the sake of devotion to MY ism.

The fascinating dichotomy in this book however, became the clash between the `club' - an upper class, public school, Oxbridge educated elite - a friendship of same background, bonded together with heavy drinking, those who were loyal to those friends, and would never betray their friends, and those, like Philby, whose loyalty was to the country of ideology. There was an extremity in both positions. Philby was willing to betray and sacrifice individual lives as he played his game of double bluff, ostensibly high up in MI6, whilst in reality, serving the KGB. But the intelligence agencies, both in the UK and at that stage, in the States, had high up individuals who were unable to comprehend that a man of `our class' could possibly be a traitor to his class, or to the politics of his class, or to his country.

Kim Philby was above suspicion for so long, not just because he was so clearly `one of us' with absolutely the `right background', but because he was possessed of fatal (for others) charm. If you look at the real derivation of the word - a charm is a piece of magic, an enchantment, a spell, something thought to possess occult power. Kim Philby's charm clearly DID `subdue by secret influence'. As Macintyre explains

"Beneath Philby's golden charm lay a thick substratum of conceit; the charmer invites you into his world, though never too far and only on his terms"

By all accounts, Philby, in that markedly English upper-class way, did not ever discuss real things - emotions, political beliefs - repeatedly, colleagues talk about him as good fun, ironic, witty - and sometimes these skilful tools can be absolutely used to parry away real intimacy,

What shocks also is what an incredibly heavy drinking culture the worlds of MI6 and the CIA were. It seems as if most of the high up personnel must either have been drunk or nursing hangovers most of the time!.

"Alcohol was so much a part of the culture of MI6 in those days that a non-drinker in the ranks could look like a subversive or worse"

The other fact which struck me is how young, how very young, some of these major players were at the time when they were rising to extraordinary positions of power and responsibility - men in their mid-twenties.

I was also quite fascinated to discover how much the class war was played out in this country between MI6 (that public school educated, upper class often aristocratic privileged elite) and the middle or working class background of MI5. And of the rivalry and distrust between them. This was mirrored in the setting up of similar agencies in the States, between the CIA and the FBI

The story of Philby's eventual `outing' after decades of successfully living the lie, and of how and why (possibly) he did not end up, like some lower placed double agents, tried and imprisoned, but escaped to Moscow to live out his days, is cogently argued. Some less highly placed double agents, whose `betrayals' cost fewer agent's lives lost, fewer state secrets betrayed, were imprisoned for many years - John Verrall, for example. Philby, like Burgess and Maclean, were able to flee the country - in the case of Burgess and Maclean this was engineered by Philby, in the case of Philby, it wasn't another agent, but, but ..........you'll have to read this excellent book!

I received this as a digital review copy from the publisher

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