In his Who's Who entry for 2000 (later amended) Brien listed four publications in his name, but only two were ever published. They were Domes of Fortune (1979), an extended illustrated essay about women's breasts, and Lenin: The Novel (1987). The latter was an immensely ambitious documentary novel of more than 700 pages, which had a mixed reception. An appalled reviewer for the New York Times criticised him for "language no Russian intellectual would use", quoting as an example: "That's what it is, we have been booted up the arse."
British novelist Alan Brien constructed this fictionlized autobiography as a lifelong diary, virtually from birth to death. And of course it could only be conceptualized by a European: few Americans have the depth or objectivity to approach the subject in a mature manner without cold war buffoonery. In general, the approach works, though Brien's accounts of certain episodes (such as the train to Petrograd) differ in details from other accounts. It's time of writing is also dated. The last entry is a paen to glasnost and perestroika, which I'm not sure Lenin would have written. The "war communism" of 1918 was deemed necessary for survival at the time, and it's hard to believe that war requisitioning - employed by both the Tzar and provisional government - would have been replaced by liberal reforms. Despite this caveat, the book works and is a necessity for a jargon-free, readable, and open-minded account of one of the giants of the 20th century.
This novel is like one of Bob Woodward's instant histories: the plot sticks to the facts, only a lot of dialogue is invented. While it's probably better to read a straight biography of Vladimir Lenin, this book will serve as an interesting overview of his life and a plausible representation of the inner man.