Bookends

THE MASTER OF THE GAME

by Strobe Talbott

Knopf; 416 pages; $19.95

"Paul Nitze has played all the positions in the game," Secretary of State George Shultz declared after the Moscow summit this spring. Indeed, the 81- year-old statesman has been involved in every aspect of nuclear-arms control, from his work with the U.S. Strategic Bombing Survey in 1945, when he went to Hiroshima to calibrate the rubble, to his service as senior arms- control adviser to Shultz and President Reagan. His extraordinary life forms the backbone for an analytic history of the nuclear age by Strobe Talbott, TIME's Washington bureau chief and author of two previous books on arms control, Endgame and Deadly Gambits.

The Strategic Defense Initiative (Star Wars) changed the game of arms control. Reagan's proposal was conceived by former National Security Adviser Robert McFarlane as a great sting operation, Talbott reveals, designed to get the Soviets to trade away their heavy land-based missiles. Nitze's fervent goal was to cap his career with a "Grand Compromise" that would swap a reduction of offensive missiles for restrictions on strategic defenses. But to do this he often had to operate behind the back of the President. At the Reykjavik summit Nitze almost saw his dream fulfilled, only to have it dashed by the President's last-minute intransigence. Even then, Nitze worked quietly to keep the pieces of the puzzle in place as a legacy to the next Administration.

THE CAPTAIN AND THE ENEMY

by Graham Greene

Viking; 189 pages; $17.95

The principal settings are those favorite corners of Greeneland, grimy London and a sunnier Third World capital, both pregnant with menace. The story lurches, sometimes comically, toward a classic Greene ending, which combines plausible irony with amazing grace. And the Captain is a typical Greene figure: a man of several names and many shadowy occupations and absences. His enemies are, of course, corrupt officialdom and bourgeois smugness. His story is told by Victor, the boy he says he won at backgammon, or maybe chess -- the tale shifts with the passing years. Along with the wraithlike woman who is the Captain's unlikely grand passion, Victor is the chief beneficiary of a shifty, sometimes shiftless man's redeeming devotion. He is also, in the end, the Captain's unwitting Judas. Greene, 84, wastes not a word in distilling the fictional preoccupations of a lifetime, omitting descriptive padding and elaborate transitions. But stripped down, the narrative runs fast and true across that bleak and poignant emotional landscape that is uniquely, immortally his.

WONDERFUL YEARS, WONDERFUL YEARS

by George V. Higgins

Henry Holt; 261 pages; $19.95

A former assistant U.S. Attorney and author of 15 novels, George Higgins again provides an insider's look at Boston's political-industrial complex. He also gives us a good listen. Wonderful Years, Wonderful Years echoes with the flat New England accents, mangled syntax and exuberant cynicism that have become Higgins' hallmarks. Bucky Arbuckle, factotum for contractor Ken Farley, must keep his boss's psychotic wife from talking about her husband's business. Federal authorities are investigating bribery and state contracts, and Farley did not get rich playing on a level field. Bucky has his own troubles with the law and must maneuver between self-interest and fealty. The novel arrives at an unexpectedly happy ending, or at least what passes for happiness among Higgins' Bay State guys and dolls.

GRACIE: A LOVE STORY

by George Burns

Putnam; 319 pages; $16.95

He was the straight man, twiddling a cigar while the Dizzy Dame offered her unique brand of illogical logic: George Burns got 4% interest; Gracie Allen got 8% because she kept her money in two banks. The couple entered broadcasting in 1932, and Gracie stayed on a first-name basis with America until her death in 1964. Since then George has done his ageless solo, but he visits her grave every month, and it is evident that she is still crucially missed. In this comic valentine, the nonagenarian confesses that long ago he had an affair with a starlet. Guilt-stricken, he bought his wife a silver centerpiece. Seven years later Gracie said to a friend, "You know, I wish George would cheat again. I really need a new centerpiece." Her husband's affectionate conclusion is inarguable: "No one was ever any smarter when it came to being dumb."