Eddie Chapman, the subject of Nicholas Booth's engrossing biography, was essentially a man of his time and generation. From a modest background in Sunderland, his craving for excitement led him to London where he mixed with criminals as a safe-cracker, to Jersey where he landed in prison, and to occupied France where he threw himself into the arms of German Intelligence. The Germans trained him as a spy and saboteur and parachuted him into England where he threw himself into the arms of British Intelligence. For the rest of the war he served as a double agent, returning to Germany and being parachuted back into England a second time.
These exploits, even in the highly-charged atmosphere of a major war, would simply be unbelievable were it not for the access the author has had to declassified Intelligence files and to the memories and papers of Chapman's widow. They make for a fast-moving, gripping narrative which benefits from Booth's placing of Chapman's escapades within the wider context of the war.
There are moments where the reader may feel the story doesn't quite hang together. On one page Eddie is said to have passed idle days in Paris on the tourist boats; the following page portrays a Paris of food shortages, disrupted rail services and the impossibility of tourism. There are references to "field security policemen,' but in my personal experience of field security towards the end of the forties neither I, nor any of my colleagues, would have seen ourselves as policemen. The mention of an army "captain" with "two pips" on his shoulder is a lapse in accuracy that could easily have been avoided.
But these are minor niggles which cannot ultimately detract from a detailed account of the life of an extraordinary man. Nicholas Booth's success is that he manages to stay neutral about his subject: alive to the man's charm and bravery but never blind to his unpredictable fecklessness. At the end, one is left with an ambivalent view of where Chapman's deepest loyalty lay. Probably it was to himself.