Past never dies

Among her many virtues as a novelist, Kate Atkinson, author of “Life After Life” and “A God in Ruins,” has a particular knack for juggling two items: time and truth. Rarely do her narratives unravel linearly, instead hopping to disparate points on her characters’ timelines. As for the truth, it generally remains elusive, malleable and sometimes unknowable, even within the crime novel conventions of her Jackson Brodie thrillers.

Atkinson’s new novel, “Transcription,” features both temporal tricks and layers of deceit. The narrative opens in 1981, with the presumed death of its protagonist. BBC radio producer Juliet Armstrong finds herself struck by a car, with enough consciousness to comment on the situation.

Atkinson writes: “Lying on the pavement of Wigmore Street with concerned bystanders all around, she knew there was no way out from this. She was just sixty years old, although it had probably been a long enough life. Yet suddenly it all seemed like an illusion, a dream that had happened to someone else. What an odd thing existence was.”

From there, the narrative jumps back and forth between 1940 and 1950, pivotal years in Juliet’s odd existence.

As her country girds itself for continued war with Germany, an orphaned 18-yearold Juliet is flattered and excited to be selected for an assignment with MI5, Britain’s domestic security agency. Her superiors set her up in a flat from which they can monitor the activities of Fascist sympathizers who believe they are meeting with a high-ranking member of the Gestapo. It is Juliet’s job to type the transcriptions of the meetings, dutifully recording the items of genuine interest, the crushing banalities and the sometimes unintelligible side-comments. The documents are supposed to reveal the treasonous truth, but Juliet suspects that they may just as often obscure it.

After a decade’s gap, Juliet at 28 finds herself reluctantly contemplating her actions in that other time. Now producing children’s programming for the BBC, she spots in the street a former colleague from her days with MI5. He almost literally runs away from her. Later, she suspects someone else is following her in turn, and she receives a vague but threatening note: “You will pay for what you did.” She takes the note seriously, but isn’t sure to which regrettable happenstance it refers.

These incidents all dredge up unwanted memories in Juliet that have been tamped down for years. She recalls voices from the past, uttering disturbing words, like “Rather heavier than she looks, I’m afraid. Lift on my three — one — two — three!”

Atkinson writes, “Best not to think about that. Best not to think at all, probably. Thinking had always been her downfall.”

Juliet is forced to reckon with what she has done — often with the best intentions — and how her decisions have affected the lives of others, innocent and otherwise. Willful blindness and the vagaries of chance complicate the matter.

Although a deeply researched historical novel, “Transcription” has much to say about the current age, when a different kind of Cold War spreads its chill and white supremacists are emboldened to march through the streets. The characters from seven decades ago say things that seem unnervingly contemporary.

One character under surveillance says, “Judeo-Bolshevism — that is the enemy, and if Britain is to be great again then the foe must be eradicated from these shores.” Juliet’s boss warns her, “Do not equate nationalism with patriotism . ... Nationalism is the first step on the road to Fascism.”

Although engrossing from beginning to end, “Transcription” starts at a measured pace, with the tandem narratives only gradually gaining velocity. But when they are finally in sync and operating at peak capacity, the result is exhilarating. Events in 1940 take on new meaning from the perspective of 1950, and carefully orchestrated clues magnificently reveal new meanings as the narrative races toward its climax.

Through it all, Juliet observes the proceedings with an acerbic sense of humor, even as situations turn deadly. Atkinson shows the young woman’s naivete, her penchant for jumping to conclusions, her inability to see the truth even when it is right in front of her. Juliet isn’t exactly George Smiley. (Another character seems to fill that role.) But Atkinson’s latest work can go toe-to-toe with John le Carré’s when it comes to delineating the ironies of a life spent in espionage. Everyone who indulges in it is compromised, the book suggests. And while le Carré is far from humorless, he doesn’t usually employ the kind of antic wit on display here.

“Transcription” is another triumph for Atkinson — suspenseful, moving, insightful and original. Her two previous World War II-influenced novels were each a critical and popular success. “Transcription” equals them in thematic heft, precision prose and sheer reading enjoyment.

Michael Berry is a freelance writer. Email: books@ sfchronicle.com