Beyond the least shadow of a doubt, this is the year of the spy. Television abounds with glamorous and garrulous agents; movies are bottled in Bond and sandwiched with Ipcress. But the truth of that grim, grubby business, espionage, will never be told on film—or even through the written word. Last week the West was buzzing with two new spy "memoirs," both of which proved once again that while honest-to-badness spies really exist, their reflections are inevitably suspect.
The authors are Soviet Agent Gordon Lonsdale, whose account of his 20 years in...
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