From middle-class American angst to disillusioned British spies all in one day.

I picked up Graham Greene’s “The Human Factor” this summer at the blueberry farm/used book store near Dad’s house. Then I left it there, unread. I was glad of that when I ended up bookless again with several days left to go in our visit.

It wasn’t as good as “The Quiet American.” In fact, I didn’t care for it much at all. The end was particularly disappointing. It does hold the distinction, though, of being my 50th book of 2006.