Today I found a lovely write-up of 36 Yalta Boulevard, reviewed by Andi Shechter for In it, she compares my books, and in particular this one, to the master of espionage fiction, John LeCarre, though she steps back to remind the reader that

As a reviewer, I’m aware of the pitfalls of comparing authors, and I don’t do it lightly; as a reader, I’m often dismayed when I read recommendations that say “if you like X, you’ll like Y” because the comparisons are often based on superficial values of X and Y —- books set in the same place, authors who happen to be female, or male. Big deal.

Gorky Park

But my comparison of Steinhauer to le Carre comes from an appreciation of both authors’ ability to show a distinctly non-glamorous everyday espionage, devoid of ringing heartfelt flag-waving or patriotism. […] And le Carre’s plots, which inevitably leave me confused but still involved, are rather Byzantine and I usually just wait until the end of the book where, I hope, all is explained. Often, however, the reader is left puzzled.