There was a moment while reading Creation Lake where I felt that hard-to-describe feeling in my stomach that only comes when reading something especially enjoyable and interesting at the same time - almost always literary fiction, which is less about any intrinsic hierarchy of worth and more about its nature as a genre. The feeling or sensation is hard to describe, but it's a bit stirred-up, a bit excited, a feeling of pleasure.
Neither the spy plot nor the big ideas about humanity and civilisation felt out of balance - that they're woven so well together has a fair bit to do with the novel's voice, Sadie Smith's harsh judgements and decisive observations rubbing up interestingly with the occasional hints of a less self-contained inner self, and the way that Bruno's emails and the rural French setting eventually leave her unmoored.
In the end I felt this was more 'very good' than towards 'great' - but books as simultaneously grippingly readable and intellectually substantial (not to mention, enjoyable) as this one don't come along that often.
