Throughout Thomas Pynchon’s fiction, his characters suspect that unnamed powers – referred to simply as ‘They’ and ‘Them’ – preside over governments, militaries and corporations. Partway through Gravity’s Rainbow, the novel’s protagonist, former American intelligence officer Tyrone Slothrop, introduces himself as a ‘free agent’. A few pages later, he realises that not even his penis is his own: They control everything, and whatever happens, whether in wartime or peacetime, benefits Them.

Pynchon often came to mind while I was reading Rachel Kushner’s new novel, Creation Lake. Its protagonist would fit in well on a Slothrop family tree. Sadie Smith, a native of Priest Valley, California – that is not her real name, and the population of her hometown is zero – is herself a free agent, available for hire by unnamed powers. She started this career after a stint working undercover for the FBI – a profession she chose after dropping out of grad school – ended badly. But instead of succumbing to the absurdist fatalism and antic paranoia that is common among Pynchon’s characters, Sadie retains a cool knowingness. ‘Let him believe he’s making every move and every decision,’ Sadie observes in a typical formulation, in this case about Lucien, a beta-male activist filmmaker. She seduces him as part of her latest assignment, which is to infiltrate a French far-left group, Le Moulin, engaged in anti-state and anti-capitalist operations. 

Whether hard-living, unbowed convicts (Romy Hall in The Mars Room), motorcycle-riding art scenarists (Reno in The Flamethrowers) or philosophical cabaret dancers (Rachel K in Telex from Cuba), Kushner’s protagonists are reliably tough, sexy, cerebral women with rich interior lives. Sadie is no exception. From the start, she offers little