Blood of Victory

Blood of Victory is the seventh of the fourteen historical novels to date in the celebrated Night Soldiers series by Alan Furst. Written in the tradition of Eric Ambler and Graham Greene, the Night Soldiers stories are set in Europe during the period 1933-44. The action ranges all across Continent, from Warsaw to Istanbul to Paris and numerous points in-between. Most of the novels involve espionage in the long, often futile resistance to Nazi domination.

In Blood of Victory, a Russian migr writer named I. A. (Ilya) Serebin is drawn into an ambitious British plot to deny Nazi Germany the oil (the blood of victory) that flows from the Rumanian oilfields at Ploesti. Half Russian aristocrat, half Boshevik Jew, . . . Serebin was forty-two, this was his fifth war, he considered himself expert in the matter of running, hiding, or not caring . . . He was, after all, I. A. Serebin, formerly a decorated Hero of the Soviet Union, Second Class, currently the executive secretary of the International Russian Union, a Paris-based organization for migrs. Like so many Europeans in the early years of World War II, Serebin no longer has a permanent home. He is living in Paris as the story opens in 1940, shortly after the Nazi invasion of France. But work and a desire to check in on a former lover taken him to the Balkans and to Istanbul. There, he is recruited by Janos Polyani, formerly Count Polyani, a shadowy Hungarian intelligence operative in the service of the British (and a recurring character in the Night Soldiers series).

In 1940, the Balkans are in turmoilas always, some might say. Serbia is about to explodeagainwith pro-Nazi and Communist forces fighting for dominance in a bitter political struggle. Mussolinis legions have made the mistake of invading Greece and are steadily in retreat. Rumania has just joined the Tripartite Pact with Germany as civil war rages on; the Soviet Union has seized two eastern provinces, the fascist Iron Guard roams the streets like Hitlers brownshirts, loyalists to the old regime are fighting back, and grim young Nazi tourists are moving into the country in large numbers. Turkey attempts to stay neutral but is in a steadily more delicate position as pressure mounts on all sides, from the Germans, the British, and the Russians.

Control of Rumania is a key to Hitlers strategy. The oil at Ploesti fuels the German war machine because I.G. Farben cannot produce synthetic gasoline fast enough. Rumanian land is on the path to the upcoming Nazi invasion of the USSR, and Rumanian divisions are needed to flesh out Germanys southernmost army group. To hamper Hitlers invasion plans, slow down the Panzer divisions wreaking havoc in the West and Northern Africa, and possibly delay the invasion of the Soviet Union, Britain has identified the Ploesti oilfields as one of its highest priority targets on the continent. And Winston Churchill has established the top-secret Special Operations Executive (SOE) to conduct sabotage behind enemy lines. Ploesti is one of its first targets. Serebin is drawn into an ambitious and high-risk plan by SOE to disrupt the shipment of oil from the region up the Danube to Germany. The action that unfolds is compelling.

Like so many of Fursts protagonists, Serebin is a man in early middle age, successful in his field, and what in that era was called a ladies man. He is rarely without the warming presence of a beautiful woman.Furst writes in an arresting style. His work conjures up the dark mood that had fallen over Europe in the late 1930s.

Alan Furst has written fourteen books set in Europe in the 1930s and 1940s. They form the “Night Soldiers” series and while they are loosely inter-connected, each is a standalone novels in its own right. Blood of Victory is set between November 1940-July 1941 and is about a British plot to disrupt the supply of Romanian oil to the Germans. Our hero is Serebin, a writer and journalist, originally from Odessa but now living in Paris.

This book showcases both what is good about Furst’s writing and what is not so good. He has a wonderful economical writing style – he can pack more into a short paragraph than almost any other author I know. He creates a world full of richly realised characters and brings the settings to life with telling details. His stories are fictional but they feel real.

However as with so many of his books, the storyline takes a back seat to the characters and settings. There are long periods in this book where you kind of wonder where its going or what is the point of the little story we’ve got waylaid in. Sometimes, masterfully, he will weave it back in 100 pages down the track, but at other times it’s just about creating layers of atmosphere, building up a scene in depth. Generally I like this aspect of his writing but this time round it felt like he’d let it go a little too far. The pace is sluggish and the plot seems murky right up until the final 40 pages, which are densely packed with heart in your mouth action.

Tried this book – my first of this author. Got through 30% of it according to my Kindle, and even after restarting it from the beginning again, it just totally failed to cohere in any sensible way. I could develop no idea of where this was going, no idea of whatever plot there was. Much of the writing was very good and very descriptive and captivating, but the lack any plot development finally overcame any positives. Many characters, many appear only once (thanks to Kindles search this book function).

Sad to say that this one is a real clunker. Boring, boring, boring. Im a huge fan of Alan first and have devoured all of his books. This one, however, doesnt make the cut. Read spies of the Balkans or the spice of Warsaw instead.

I love Alan Furst! He takes his time. No rush, no mad dash to keep your attention on red-alert. Instead, he deliveres with an honest view of what it must have been like in WW2. What all the little villages went through. What Paris did that no other place could because the Nazi’s loved Paris and, by golly, they expected Paris to go right on being gay and a little naughty so they(the occupiers from staid Germany) could live life like they heard it could be . . . delicious.
In Blood of Victory, the coming and going to ships, the plans of spies are full of danger and Furst’s telling treats the reader to the ‘real cities, it’s alley ways, the naughty clubs, the food, the smells. “When France fell, that day, that day, I was more Parisian than I’d ever been. We all were. Exiles or born in the 5th Adrrondissemont it didn’t matter. Everyone said ‘merde’ it was bad luck, bad weaterh. We would just have to learn to live with it. . . .”

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