In Call for the Dead, Smiley finds himself investigating the death of a civil servant who has only just been subjected (and passed) a security check by Smiley himself. He has apparently killed himself, but Smiley smells a rat and chases down the truth from leafy suburbia to dingy London pubs and Thames side garages. He is nearly killed twice but manages to survive with his wits, his outstanding spy-craft and the help of Mendal and Guillam (trusty side-kicks who will be familiar to Tinker, Tailor fans). I read the book in a hill-top town called Ravello on the Amalfi coast on a day when the whole place was blanketed in cloud and I think that rather helped me to get in the mood. I could just about see the page although neither I nor anyone else could see normal things like buildings and pavements.
The day after (and with a little more sunshine), I dived straight into A Murder of Quality. This is a strange novella for Smiley to have become embroiled in as it is really a straight forward murder mystery, with elements of spy wallpaper. It is not about espionage. Rather it is about the brutal murder of a non-conformist teacher’s wife in a public school. It deals, as Le Carre is wont to deal (and indeed, there is no reason why he shouldn’t) with the overwhelming significance of class in British society – its power to shape and distort and dehumanise.
These are simple easy books but they show how Le Carre never lets his standards slip. The writing is fluid and excellent, always saying just the right amount and never too much. His books are always about something and he never falls into the trap of thinking that because he has a genre that means that there is no need for substance or thought.
Smiley is a character who has repaid strenuous effort and thought on his creator’s part. He is a complex and flawed wonder. One can’t help but slightly take the impression that Smiley is an idealised version of Le Carre himself. He is divided between the intellectually curious academic and the sharp-eyed, sharp-witted memoriser of dangers, the wounded cuckold with much to prove and the Smiley who actually wants to win and to be the best. His social position is deliberately ambiguous, as Le Carre puts it in Call for the Dead “Smiley, without school, parents, regiment or trade, without wealth or poverty, travelled without labels in the guard’s van of the social express”. His cleverness and reserved nature and loyalty to those who deserve it make him lovable, but equally he is a most flawed hero. Both Call for the Dead and A Murder of Quality testify to this. I will not say how as I don’t want to spoil the books for readers of this blog – but he emerges at the end of both of them a little more shadowy than before.
Readers of this blog may recall that I have had a foray down the path of espionage before, and very much enjoyed it, here.