Review of Our Man in Havana by Graham Greene

There are undoubtedly some, if not many, who would say the Cold War was the golden age of spying. Mission Impossible to James Bond, it even birthed a niche of entertainment. But reality is something different; agent field work is the opposite of sexy. Collecting data and building networks of contacts sounds more corporate than thrilling. Injecting a syringe full of clever, black humor into Britain's espionage efforts in Cold War Cuba is Graham Greene's Our Man in Havana (1958).

Our Man in Havana tells of a British vacuum salesman named James Wormold living in the titular city in the 1950s. (Bear in mind this period is just prior to Castro's communist rule.) A bit of a pushover, Wormold's sales are limited, to put it nicely. His wife is estranged and his relationship with his entitled teen daughter Milly isn't any better; she plays him like a fiddle getting what she wants. Wormold's moping, plodding life takes a major turn, however, when British intelligence identifies him as potential agent. Needing money to pay for Milly's excesses, Wormold acccepts, and his life as an unlikely spy is born.

Our Man in Havana is black comedy (black comedy gold, in fact, but the mix of colors would be confusing). Wormold is a bumbling spy if ever there were. But where Johnny English is of the slap-stick, situational variety, Wormold missteps are truly British: subtle, indirect, and fated. Also, I'm not sure Rowan Atkinson had any political comments to make in Johnny English; in Our Man in Havana, Greene does.

Greene's The Quiet American is a novel critical of American foreign policy and secret service activity in Vietnam, as told by a world weary Brit watching from the sidelines. Our Man in Havana is a novel critical of Britain's secret service, as told by a bumbling Brit who, ironically, is likewise on the sidelines despite his official role as an agent. One a drama, the other a comedy, Greene's skewers feel all the sharper for the blackness of the humor of Our Man in Havana compared to The Quiet American. Strapped for money and qualified personnel, MI6 makes do with Wormold. The info he passes along seems critical from their distant perspective, the reader understands is limited in reality, likely even useless. Greene worked adjacent to Britain's secret service in his career, lending this aspect of the novel commentary at best, insult at worst.

Our Man in Havana features Greene in complete control of the craft. The diction is deft, pace is perfect, and control of the underlying narrative is immaculate. But where the novel succeeds most, and rightfully so, is the arc of scene. Each goes through its paces and ends on a note cuttingly humorous, often of the double-entendre variety. And it feels effortless.

In the end, Our Man in Havana is a subtly humorous novel that will require historical knowledge to fully appreciate, and a bit of hindsight to understand the not-so-subtle political commentary. Green pokes fun at MI6 for its attempts at global reach during the Cold War. But regardless whether the reader agrees with the agenda, the story is an exercise in storytelling many, many writers would do taking notes from. Greene was a master, showcased here.

*Note: Our Man in Havana was adapted to the screen within a year of publication. One of the last black and white movies made, Alec Guinness (Obi Wan Kenobi!) takes on the role of Wormold in effective fashion. The film is lacking a touch of maturity, however. Greene presents Havana in realistic, adult fashion, including prostitution, extra-marital affairs, corruption, etc. The film avoids much of this, making subtle hints, but sticking, perhaps rightfully so, to character, scene, and dialogue. I would also argue the film does not quite capture the novel's subtly humorous tone, either. Smirks are there, just fewer and further between. What the film does better, however, is present the setting. Greene leaves most physical details to the reader's imagination, something the film has in spades due to being set in the city nearly every scene.