A certain thriller novel, whose title shall remain unnamed, was recently plopped into my hands by a friend whose career included an extended stint on a colonial police force.

"I had trouble getting through it," he said, sounding glad to be rid of it.

After taking it to bed that evening, I could see why. It was an unoriginal formulaic work in which a heroic CIA agent makes a foray into China to avert a world crisis, by rescuing the People's Republic from the machinations of a power-hungry madman.

Reflecting on the sheer implausibility of it all, I suddenly realized that spy stories, thrillers and police procedurals set in this part of the world, in which Caucasian superheroes get to whack sinister Asian villains, have been rapidly disappearing.