
The Passage
Dan Fesperman | Pariah | Spy Fiction | Ep. 15
Bestselling spy novelist Dan Fesperman joins Cory and Jon to discuss Pariah , a satirical thriller about a disgraced comedian recruited by the CIA to spy on an authoritarian Eastern European regime. The passage he reads is a masterclass in building suspense through, let's say... unconventional narrative choices, balancing tension with humor, and crafting dialogue that feels anything but crafted. We also discuss journalism as preparation for fiction, the beauty of the spy novel, the tradeoffs between creating fictional worlds and deeply researched real ones, and the disciplined writing routine that has produced more than a dozen novels over the past two decades. Dan’s passage, from Pariah : The Passage: Pavel excused himself into the hallway, where he ducked into the door for the washroom. He was halfway to the urinals when he heard the door open behind him, followed by footsteps. A sidelong glance showed that it was Sarić, who stooped to pick up one of those rubber wedges that janitors use to hold open the door during cleaning. But Sarić jammed it beneath the door to hold it shut. They were locked in. Pavel, who felt as if he didn’t dare move, much less unzip his trousers, watched as Sarić quickly checked all three stalls to make sure they were empty. Then, still without a word, Sarić stepped over to a sink, where he unscrewed the cap of his orange water bottle, pulled out some sort of filter attachment with a plunger, and refilled the bottle. Pavel, who needed badly to pee, fidgeted as he watched this odd ritual. After filling the bottle, Sarić reinserted the filter plunger and pushed it to the bottom, the same way you made coffee with a French press. Sarić screwed the top back on and eyed Pavel carefully. “I suppose you think this is a foolish indulgence. I know that’s what others say.” “No. Not at all.” “They have the same attitude toward a lot of security precautions. ‘Oh, that’s harmless, why bother.’ Of course, they said that about Kelenić as well.” Sarić set the bottle onto the rim of the sink and faced Pavel from ten feet away, like a sheriff in an American western. Pavel crossed his feet and tried to hold it in, his bladder feeling like a water balloon that might burst at any moment. “So, what do you think?” Sarić asked. Pavel cleared his throat. “About what?” “The evening. And our American guest. The way he comported himself.” “I think it went as well as could be expected. The president seemed to enjoy his company.” “Yes, I think that is correct. In that sense, it was a success.” “I’m glad to know that.” “I don’t like him.” “Mr. Knight?” “He’s an actor. They’re paid to fool us.” “He’s really more of a comedian.” “Even worse. Watch. By the end of the week, he’ll have us laughing at ourselves. When people start doing that, they miss things. Important things.” “Yes, well… maybe we could use a few laughs.” “Fine, then. Laugh your way through the entire week. But don’t lose your focus, because you have a role to play, a job to do. For me.” Sarić closed the distance between them and clamped a hand on Pavel’s shoulder, the grip uncomfortably firm. Pavel had to shift his feet to hold his balance, even as he continued to concentrate on not peeing in his pants....

