Secrets of a Spymaster

All of his research into the 1930s has only increased Furst’s hatred for fascism and cruelty in all their forms. The descendant of Latvian Jews even imagines himself confronting Hitler not with a gun or at least a fist, as might be expected, but rather with pointed questions: “How could you do that to people? How could you do that to other humans?” Furst’s increasing anger about “what governments do” even influenced a burst of activism in the 2008 election. As he says, “I gave Obama more money than I can afford. My thinking was: If the Republicans steal another election, I will have myself to blame. It was time to put my money where my mouth is.”

Furst’s natural disposition, though, is ebullient. He is that elusive rare breed, the genuinely happy writer, generous toward others who have helped him (especially his mother, and his wife through their “25-year love affair,” despite being separated for the last 18 months). Furst is also pleased by where his career his taken him, including 10 years in Paris and 15 years now in the tony Hamptons on Long Island.

But, mostly, Furst is stunned and thankful to have so many readers. That is why he will devote many an evening hour to answering every reader email he receives through www.alanfurst.net. There will be a glass of vodka near his keyboard, plus jazz streamed over the Internet from KPLU-FM, the beloved Tacoma, Washington, public-radio station he discovered in Seattle. These ingredients all produce the best of moods for Furst, who has no plans to change his rewarding life: “I’ll probably write until I die at my typewriter and someone finds me there a week later.”

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John Douglas Marshall was the longtime book critic for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer until it ceased publication in March.