CHECK IT OUT:Uncovering spies and their stories

On Oct. 17, 1917, a French firing squad executed Dutch citizen Margaretha Zelle for spying. There is now little evidence that her infamous relations with the officers of various armies yielded any valuable information, but the French needed a scapegoat for the disastrous battlefield losses of 1917.

And so, the glamorous Mata Hari died as spectacularly as she had lived. Even though she may not have been an effective spy, Zelle’s profession is one of the oldest in the world. No, not that one — the double agent one.

Though Rudyard Kipling’s “Kim” (1901) and “The Scarlet Pimpernel” by the Baroness Orczy (1905) involve political intrigue, the spy novel is really a product of the 20th century. This is not surprising given two world wars, innumerable regional wars and a Cold War’s gloom dominated the last half of the century.

Most of the early spy novels were written by forgettable authors and are now out of print. The first real works of merit are still available — Joseph Conrad’s “Secret Agent” and Robert Erskine Childers’ “The Riddle of the Sands.” With World War I came the novels of John Buchan. His “The Thirty Nine Steps” is a suspenseful, well-written portrayal of a civilized world threatened by barbarism.

It isn’t until we reach the World War II that spy novels attain a level of quality well above the dime novels pumped out in the pre-war years. What happened?

Former intelligence officers had retired and turned their real-life adventures into spy fiction. W. Somerset Maugham utilized his World War I expertise in “Ashendon.” Eric Ambler turned his World War II experiences into “The Mask of Dimitios.”

And in a delightfully clandestine way, Manning Coles wrote a series of spy novels with the author posing as one man. In fact, Manning Coles was really Adelaide Manning and Cyril Coles — neighbors living in Hampshire. They weren’t entirely ordinary folks, though, since Coles had been a spy in World War I.

Up to this point in the history of spy fiction, a sense of patriotism pervaded the stories. With Ambler and the next great spy novelist, Graham Greene, the world had changed. The Soviet Union had swallowed up half of Europe and the world’s balance didn’t hinge on trenches and tanks, but on something as ephemeral as diplomacy and tact.

It is little wonder that the genre took a cynical turn. Greene’s “The Quiet American,” “The Comedians,” and even the farcical “Our Man in Havana,” reveal the angst of the age as well as any sociological study could.

Notably, when things get tense, there is always a safety valve. And into the world of Cold War spy novels stepped super counter-intelligence agent James Bond, to spoof the genre. Written by former naval spy Ian Fleming, James Bond became everyone’s dream of escape from life’s grim realities. (Don’t forget Peter O’Donnell’s “Modesty Blaise”, who was Bond’s female counterpart.)

Then came glasnost and perestroika and the fall of the infamous Berlin Wall. If anyone doubts that art reflects society, just consider that for a spell after these miraculous events took place, the spy novel went completely out of favor.

Two of the greatest spy novelists of the Cold War era, John Le Carré (“Smiley’s People”) and Frederick Forsyth (“The Day of the Jackal”) stopped writing political thrillers. The New York Times abandoned its column of spy thriller reviews.

Sadly, it was a lull that wasn’t to last long. The events of 9/11 assured us of many uncertain things, but one certainty is that the political thriller is back and strong as ever.

Both Le Carré and Forsyth (“The Mission Song” and “The Afghan”) have returned to their roots, while exciting new authors are appearing almost daily.

The names of Furst, McCarry, Freemantle, Clancy, Silva, Egelton, Ignatius and Martell make just a very short list of terrific thriller writers.

Newer writers whose work, though considered popular and exciting, takes us to misunderstood parts of today’s dangerous world include Deon Meyer, Greg Rucka, Edmund P. Murray, Olen Steinhauer and John Banville.