For the forty-odd years of its existence, Checkpoint Charlie (above) was the visible symbol of the conflict between Communism and the “Free World.” In a matter of minutes, one could go between the prosperous world of West Berlin to the seemingly eternal grayness of East Berlin. For miles in each direction from the Checkpoint, the Berlin Wall snaked its way across the landscape, along with its accompaniment of barbed wire, guard towers, bunkers, and attack dogs attached to long lines.
No writer was more able to convey that schizoid world of illusion, deception, and betrayal more than David John Moore Cornwell, better known as
John Le Carré (b. 1931). A former agent for MI6, Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service, Le Carré wrote a series of novels which described in great detail the elegant and deathly dance of the intelligence services of the Great Powers as they strove to gain an advantage in their struggle to the death. Perhaps the best-known of the novels written during this time are:
- The Spy Who Came In from the Cold (1963)
- Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (1974)
- Smiley’s People (1979)
The latter two were adapted by the BBC into miniseries which starred Sir Alec Guinness in perhaps his greatest acting role, as George Smiley, master spy. (I plan on writing another posting within a day or two about these two series.)
After the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, I wondered whether Le Carré would lose his edge. Far from it, he continued to write great novels about the new struggles that took no time at all in replacing the Cold War. Among his best Post-Communism works are:
- The Night Manager (1993)
- Our Game (1995)
- The Tailor of Panama (1996)
- The Constant Gardener (2001)
Instead of fading into relevance, Le Carré just kept getting better and better. Although he hasn’t succeeded in creating a great poster boy like George Smiley for the Post Cold War period, he has seen the alternating decay and accretion of power as its polarity continues to change.
When I first read
The Spy Who Came In from the Cold as a junior at Dartmouth College who was taking a break from his schoolwork, I felt I was indulging a guilty pleasure. Now, as I re-read the same work many years later, I see that Le Carré is on to something. In the Manichean world of Spy vs. Spy, there is something basic. Le Carré is merely the most recent in a line of great British writers who wrote about spycraft, from Eric Ambler to Graham Greene. I don’t know what there is about the British character that is so congenial to the subject: What I do know is that no American has been able to come close.
So if you want to pick up one of Le Carré’s novels, you don’t have to feel guilty. Just concentrate on the pleasure, which I can promise you will be considerable.