From Publishers Weekly The United Nations headquarters appears as a byzantine bureaucracy riddled with lazy staff， rampant sexual harassment， hectoring anti-Semitism and flagrant drug dealing in this contemptuous memoir. And worse: Sanjuan alleges that the U.N. library housed the largest KGB intelligence operation in America and hints darkly—with no apparent evidence—that the 9/11 attacks may have been plotted by Islamic jihadists at the U.N. Sanjuan served as policy planning director in the U.N. Secretariat， but his real job， he says， was to "spy" on the organization's inner workings for the Reagan and Bush administrations. It's hard to see how he accomplished either of these delicate assignments， given his bristling， bull-in-the-china-shop approach to the tasks. He loathes everyone at the U.N.， from the "pusillanimous" former secretary-general Javier Pérez de Cuellar to the security guard he upbraids for not saying "please，" and he delights in verbatim accounts of the long dressings-down he metes out to those who step on his toes. "I used a very strong expletive with reference to the Soviet undersecretary-general's mother" pretty much sums up his attitude toward diplomatic niceties. The author delivers a lively， preening， sometimes eye-opening insider's account， but his obvious polemical intent and the enormous chip on his shoulder overshadow his critique of the U.N.'s failings. (Sept. 20) Copyright © Reed Business Information， a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. From Booklist Like city hall， the UN employs only those with clout. Sanjuan's clout was then vice--president George H. W. Bush， who sponsored him in 1984 as an undersecretary-general; Sanjuan's real job was to spy on spies. Lest some object to such tawdry subversion of the UN， let them absorb his amusingly cynical account of his experiences in the Secretariat. Sanjuan found minds not occupied with world peace but rather with Jewish U.S. politicians; with denying Israel its quota of Secretariat slots; and with drug dealing in the diplomatically immune UN garage. "For me，" Sanjuan writes， "it was the beginning of an anti-Semitic journey of ten years' duration." Besides the prejudice and its fellow traveler， inveighing against the iniquities of the U.S.， Sanjuan found a bureaucratic wonderland of assistants and deputies whose first concern seemed to be keeping their jobs rather than brokering cease-fires. Who wants Ouagadougou when you've got Manhattan? However exaggerated its over-the-top effect， Sanjuan's memoir is being published amid enough scandalous news about the UN to lend it credence. Gilbert TaylorCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved See all Editorial Reviews