Serena Frome, the protagonist of Ian McEwan’s latest novel, “Sweet Tooth,” is not your typical spy. Frome (pronounced ‘plume’) begins the story by telling the reader of her unexceptional time as a college student at Cambridge in the 1970s: she studies math for practicality despite loving English, loses her virginity unremarkably, plays tennis and graduates with subpar grades.

Frome then finds herself in the midst of an affair with a much older man who lands her a job at MI5 — the United Kingdom’s counter-intelligence and security agency. Frome, who is young, beautiful and eager for excitement, accepts the low-level position and is introduced to a covert operation called “Sweet Tooth.” The 1960s are over, but the Cold War is still in full swing and there’s a focus on culture and the arts. Sweet Tooth’s goal is to locate writers with anti-Communist views and give them funding to publish their work, all the while keeping it hidden that the money is actually coming from the government.

Frome’s mission is to investigate Tom Haley, an up-and-coming writer, and decide whether he is right for the program. It all sounds simple enough, until she reads his stories and they meet in person. Frome finds herself falling in love with her target, and the two begin a passionate affair as she internally struggles with the knowledge that she is lying to him.

The plot sounds like something out of a James Bond movie, and not a particularly good one. The undercover organizations, secrecy and lies, government propaganda and forbidden romance are so formulaic that it’s almost corny. In one scene, Frome is told to stay calm, she is being watched. Smile. Act natural. Don’t let them know you’re on to them. It’s banal, but McEwan does not take himself too seriously and this gives the novel its credence. The plot is borderline absurd, but Frome’s narration is playful, as if she is subconsciously aware of the ridiculousness of it all.

Of course, though, underneath this lies the complication that Haley has no idea he is Frome’s government assignment. “So I remembered yet again,” Frome muses, “that Tom did not know who I was and what I really did and that I should tell him now. Last chance! Go on, tell him now! But it was too late. The truth was too weighty, it would destroy us. He would hate me forever. I was over the cliff edge and could never get back.”

Admittedly, it is all very clichéd. The theme of secrets and betrayal between lovers has been done time and time again, and McEwan does not particularly add anything new to the subject.

Frome frequently provides us with detailed summaries of Haley’s short stories. They are all nearly as interesting as the novel itself and, along with Frome, the reader attempts to use them to better understand Haley as a person. Frome laments that she didn’t follow through with her passion to study English because, as she claims, it would have helped her get a much better grasp on Haley’s inner mind. Thus, the importance of writing and reading becomes a feature of the novel. For someone who is a fan of literary theory but not spy novels, “Sweet Tooth” would surely still entertain.

Fans of McEwan will recognize that “Sweet Tooth” does not carry the same astonishing depth and insight of “Atonement” or the dark thrill of “Amsterdam” or “Enduring Love.” At times it can feel unoriginal and even dull. However, its insights into how a war can be fought with the arts, narrated by a uniquely spirited young lady, make it worth a read.