Members of my writers group asked me what influenced me in creating Latham?

Initially, a spy I knew as a friend, then fiction and non-fiction. But a documentary offered me the most compelling crawl around a spy’s emotional innards. The Green Prince is an interview with the son of a Hamas leader—the Green Prince—who spied for Israel for ten years, and an interview with his Israeli handler.

Originally coerced into collaborating with Israel because he was gay, the Green Prince gradually determined that informing on Hamas was the more virtuous course.  He loathed what he called “the Hamas project,” built, as he learned, on provable lies. But as a Muslim Palestinian, he couldn’t accept Israel either, and he honoured his parents. He constructed his own moral code, lines he wouldn’t cross, and trained himself to feel right in his code. Latham also constructs his own moral code. The Israeli handler had stresses, too. More empathetic to his agent than Shin Bet allowed, he got into trouble. Both men were hollowed by the experience. Latham isn’t hollowed out, but he pays a price. Love isn’t available to him; his attachments are partly transactional. Serving a higher purpose sustains him. With a grandiose streak, he writes his life large as he goes.

In my reading about the Tudor era, I came across an incident from the time of Henry VIIII. English soldiers were besieging a Scottish town. A church spire was in artillery range. Officers called a halt and pored over their bible. Was bombarding the spire allowed? They concluded that it was, and fired the cannon. I wondered if Hamas soldiers consult their Koran before storing weapons in Gaza’s UN refugee centres. There are affinities between Latham and the Green Prince. I decided to incorporate a search for theoretical justifications in Latham; he thinks and dreams a lot.

The Secret of Thrills; or, the Thrill of Secrets

My publisher asked me what it might have been like for Latham to hold all those secrets, spying for the Catholic side first, then a double agent for Elizabeth. As I conceive him, Latham isn’t burdened by secrets. They excite him, as rare diamonds thrill jewelers, because he uses them to make things happen, in what he construes as a virtuous direction. His talent is decoding, both ciphered writing and court intrigues, for which he is exquisitely attuned. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter Two:

“Latham tried to control mounting excitement… He wanted to leap on the table, wave his arms, stamp his feet, dance. He clutched the bench white-knuckled, grinding his heels into the floor. Why had Hicks come to Paris to tell him this?”

Espionage is how Latham finds his place in a world roiled by religious wars and

A 16th century French cypher in the shape of a book, with the mark of Henri II (wikipedia)

upending innovations. If you want to know what royal secret excited him that day, you can now get the book! A kind pre-release reviewer describes Latham as “a dashing Elizabethan double agent, (who) personifies the nerve-tingling tension between passionate patriotism and a tormented Catholic conscience.” Latham’s era doesn’t allow for easy answers. As a counterweight to Latham’s dilemma, my other characters are free from core conflicts. You’ll meet Don Cristobal, Spanish professional soldier with an ancient code of chivalry; David Hicks, courtier friend of Latham, dedicated to the English side, who becomes Latham’s handler; Latham’s servants, Joris and Marie, whose ethos is service to their master, whatever side he’s on; Ibrahim, Ottoman slave/high official, who until his tragic death tries to pry Latham’s

Replica of Confederate army pocket cypher machine using the Vigenére system (obtained from the International Spy Museum in Washington, DC)

service from Catholic Spain back to his birth country, whose more moderate ruler Ottoman policy prefers. And plenty of Queens, kings, councilors, sub-agents, field marshals, noblewomen, maids and mistresses. My next blog will be titled A CRAWL AROUND THE EMOTIONAL INNARDS OF ONE MODERN SPY


When Latham left Elizabeth’s court to serve Catholic Mary, Queen of Scots and her husband, Henry Stuart Lord Darnley, I had to sidle into that notoriously miserable marriage. These coins tickled me! Mary minted the first one on their marriage. Its inscription is Henricus & Maria, with handsome Darnley’s big head taller than his wife’s. Mary soured on him within months, with reason, and withdrew this coin from circulation. They are rare. This image is from the British Museum.

Mary replaced the Henricus & Maria coins with those below, Maria & Henricus, with a thistle on one side and a coat of arms on the other. These coins  can be bought from dealers.

Has anyone exceeded Tudors or Stuarts in the art of public insult? Readers, let me know at loretta@lorettagoldberg.com!

My next blog is: The Secret of Thrills; or, the Thrill of Secrets

Dear Reader Friends

Welcome to my blog and thank you for your interest in my debut novel The Reversible Mask.. I will be posting each week. The first question is how I got entangled in this tale. Why did I have to write it?

Several years ago I was in bed at night reading this book:

It’s ALL about spies. Published in the eighteenth century, it contains the papers of two Elizabethan spy handlers and brothers, Francis and Anthony Bacon. Yes, Francis Bacon (below), the great philosopher and attorney, was a spy.

“Oh no!” I cried, struggling with the f/s ambiguities of eighteenth-century printing. “Anthony Standen if, no, is, blown!” Our two cats scrambled to the floor, and an irritated “Who….cares?” rumbled from my dozing spouse.

Francis Bacon (1561 – 1626 ) was an English philosopher, statesman, scientist, jurist, spymaster, orator, and author.

Good question. I had no idea why a career-ending exposure of this obscure adventurer, written plaintively from a French prison to Francis Bacon, hooked me. Sir Anthony Standen was a young Catholic courtier who had left Protestant Elizabeth I’s court in the 1560s for reasons of religion. For years, he spied for Catholic Spain against European Protestants. But in the 1580s he became a double agent for Elizabeth while remaining on Spain’s payroll. His reasons are unclear.

I am a secular Jew, so why was I intrigued? I believe that we make art—paintings, sculptures, stories, music—to understand the world we find ourselves in. Eventually I realized that Standen epitomized, in a pure form, conflicts that permeate our modern lives, along with the compartmentalization we call on to manage them. An insurance agent, which I was at the time, serves an insurer employer and the claimant; a physician gives a nod to hospital budgets, and to a patient who might gain a few months with a stratospherically costly drug; a tobacco company executive putting his children through college knows that his industry is concealing the addictive poison of cigarettes. For most of us, these conflicts are muted or temporary. For Standen they were a matter of eternal damnation. What split could be more profound than a Catholic who believed in transubstantiation and a physical hell, yet risked his life to protect his heretical birth country? What was it like to wanted to wander in his world? Quickly, I realized that Standen was irretrievably ambiguous—more about him in future blogs—so I created Sir Edward Latham. Latham does some things Standen did, and many he did not. His loves, hubris and foibles are my inventions, clearer and dearer to me than his elusive model. Historical fiction allures because the known outcomes provide a frame for imagining the experience. So, do please join me in sixteenth-century adventures from England to the Sublime Porte and places between.

Total Theatre Lab, with Caroline Thomas

Glowing pre-release review of The Reversible Mask!

“Persistence is the sworn enemy of opposition. Novelist, Loretta Goldberg, girts herself for battle- and wins the war. Her writing, in this exciting novel, The Reversible Mask, out in the Fall from the small boutique publisher, MadeGlobal Publishing, is all thrills and chills. Her story shimmers with the detailed specificity of, say, Proust’s A Remembrance of Things Past, while its roots bring to mind the embedded sensuality that drives Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ One Hundred Years of Solitude. Goldberg’s protagonist, Edward Latham, a dashing Elizabethan double agent, personifies the nerve-tingling tension between passionate patriotism and a tormented Catholic conscience. For all its scholarship this tale of derring-do rollicks along at a terrific pace.
It’s like finding your grandmother’s diamonds stuffed in a neighbor’s drawer. There’s so much disagreement about the manner in which your neighbor might have acquired those pesky diamonds. Different possibilities arise from chapter to chapter. Then, Heh presto! A game change! The booty never actually belonged to your grandmother at all- a revelation which upends the entire story.
It’s all terrific fun- unless it’s absolutely horrifying, usually both simultaneously. And yet we’re quite willing to ‘get lost’ along with all the Queens, Kings, Generals, Sultans and just plain folk continually crossing and double-crossing each other. With Latham as its focus, the political liaisons and sharply diverging religious attitudes behave like pieces of an immense puzzle as they alternately form, reform and fall apart.
We feel we are part of of the action, as the story mirrors John le Carre’s best work. The vivid writing plunges us into the ‘undercover’ lives of that time, whether describing ‘secret trysts’- often between men- or writ large on a vast canvas of fastidiously researched battles. And furthermore, how we in our day, try to discredit or build upon the history of famous military figures. Vivid details are etched into this story of a very turbulent time- stuffed with love, sex, heart-breaks, betrayals, cowardice, heroism. It’s s a tale of actions taken, derring-do or gutlessness, annihilation or amelioration, and all their far-reaching reverberations. Human nature doesn’t change. A feeling that something akin to what happens in this most prescient novel is occurring in America right now. We are reminded of a time when the great Elizabethan Age is coming to a close. Oliver Cromwell is about to show up, darkening the horizon. In some ways, the tangled roots of this meticulously researched page-turner, are a reflection on Yeats’ poem The Second Coming. Subliminally, is it a cry from the heart urging us to gird ourselves for the huge danger we are facing in this country at this very moment. Let us hope that right now no ‘…rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born.’
At the finish of this thoughtful page-turner we are not abandoned in total darkness. Is this glow a hint of the approaching dawn? Or are we witnessing a final twilight of the gods…”

Caroline Thomas, Total Theatre Lab