There are places and circumstances in which I find it impossible to read anything that demands too much concentration or effort.  Put me somewhere sunny and warm, especially outside, give me a book, and I guarantee that my eyes will skim easily and listlessly over the pages, absorbing little of their meaning.  It’s the same on long-haul flights.  It may be the drone of the engines or the horrible lighting, but there’s something about reading on airplanes that makes me crave a simple, undemanding plot and a straightforward prose style.  So, when I was packing my carry-on bag recently for a 14-hour flight to Tokyo, the choice was between Paul Auster’s latest (4321) and a Stella Rimington spy novel.  No contest.  Sorry, Paul, you’ll just have to wait until I get home.

Rip Tide is just like all the other Rimington novels I’ve read; engaging enough, undemanding, and written to a well-practiced formula.  Our usual and unmistakably British heroine, Liz Carlyle, features once again, this time pitted against a bunch of one dimensional bad guys – young Muslims radicalized in UK mosques and their Somali associates.  Don’t set your expectations too high.  We’re not talking about Le Carré here, but it’s good fun and it got me through a few hours of the flight.