Silverview - John le Carrè

 

Only picked up this book because of the dearth of remotely readable titles in the Southwark e-library, but I really didn't feel the need for a half-finished le Carrè novel that had been left behind until after his death. 

I do understand that le Carrè had four children and they might have to find a way to live off their father's royalties, but I was assuming they would have enough of the money coming in from his 454078 bestsellers and respective movie rights. 

Besides questioning the decision to publish (and edit on behalf of a deceased author) this novel, I must admit that the book is actually OK, and I do enjoy the late le Carrè's faith in the - often excessively idealistic - younger generations. Yet, I felt that Agent Running in the Field or A Legacy of Spies would have been much more fitting final novels for one of Britain's greatest authors of the last century or so. 

A Legacy of Spies - John le Carré

 

And after complaining about Jonathan Coe, Ali Smith and Ian McEwan for their attempts to either bring their sagas full circle, or to write omni-comprehensive books to capture decades' worth of British history, here comes le Carré and swiftly succeeds where so many of my favourite contemporary British authors failed. 

Granted, it may be an easy exercise for a brilliant writer to play on his readers' nostalgia, to largely repeat plot devices that worked for literally dozens of his novels before, and to essentially spend half of his time making reference to his previous novels. 

Yet, this is a superb way to settle the unanswered questions from The Spy Who Came from the Cold and to add another further layer to George Smiley while painting him as considerably less unblemished than in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

The Lock-Up - John Banville

 

Why did I read another John Banville detective story after being recently bitterly disappointed by a John Banville detective story? Chiefly because I think John Banville is one of the greatest contemporary writers and wanted to give him another chance, and because I am almost out of readable titles from the Southwark eLibrary. 

Sadly, if at all possible, I enjoyed The Lock-Up even less than I enjoyed Snow. The reason for that is essentially that, in this one, in addition to the eternally meddling Catholic church (duh) the reader also gets a wonderful peek into the world of former German Nazis and their dodgy collaborations with a state of Israel in its infancy. 

And as a matter of fact, a couple of weeks after finishing this book I don't remember much about it, other than the general feeling of "duh-ness"...

The Porcupine - Julian Barnes

  

More enjoyable than Flaubert's Parrot, less enjoyable than most other books by Julian Barnes; for me, at the very least. 

This is another book with which there's nothing wrong: it's well-written, it's interesting (if not excessively original) and it's an easy (though perhaps verging too closely towards the effortless) read. 

But there are plenty of other books dealing with the Soviet bloc and its systems, often written by authors who were on the other side of the Iron Courtain for long parts of the Cold War, a I generally like them better (except for Kundera's novels, but I've already professed my dislike for him).

Mother Night - Kurt Vonnegut

  

I have to be honest: I generally wouldn't pick a Vonnegut novel if I had a vast choice. I find his wackiness growing stale over the course of novels with a minimal (or at times a highly convoluted) plot. 

But the plot in Mother Night is actually clear and linear, and the wackiness grows gradually, like in so many books that I love from Jonathan Coe to Zadie Smith, or like in the best Coen brothers movies. And I read this book more or less at the same time as I read The Porcupine by Jonathan Barnes, so I was probably positively inclined towards a book about the Cold War and the legacy of the Second World War. 

In short: I really liked Mother Night, but in spite of that I still won't rush to read my next Vonnegut book.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John Le Carré

As a result of my attempts to limit the number of books that clutter our flat, a few months ago I donated a dozen novels to the LSE Library. One of the librarians congratulated herself on most of my books, except for Le Carré’s The Russia House. Granted, I didn’t love it, but I thought that was excessively snobbish (and that’s coming from me!) and prejudiced against a writer who only made the mistake of creating some of the greatest spy stories ever written and did so in a way that ensured popular acclaim.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldiery Spy was first suggested to me by my old boss (I really do miss her at times) and she was right – though I still need to see the movie that she recommended just as wholeheartedly.

George Smiley is absolutely awesome, and it is clearly not surprising that he is the protagonist of a whole series of novels and not just one. His problematic love life adds a layer to the novel. The plot, in its twistiness, is gripping yet complex. And the way in which the chapters cross space and time is done in a way that keeps the reader interested and, crucially, confused. Desperately trying to figure out who the mole is, the only thing I knew for sure is that it couldn’t be the “obvious” culprit. And “obviously” I was wrong…

The Innocent – Ian McEwan

And with this I have officially finished all the hard-copy McEwan books that I own (although I still want to read Black Dogs).

Much like in Sweet Tooth, McEwan develops both a love and a spy story in parallel, and I feel that he doesn’t do either excessively well. Somehow I had very little doubt as to where the love story was going to end (it is pretty much stated from the start that the relationship won’t last, and it’s also quite clear that Leonard doesn’t really understand Maria). As for the spy story, despite the cheesiness of the depiction of the British/American divide, its premises are actually really quite interesting (and Operation Gold something that even I had never heard of) – it’s just so hard to write a great spy story in a country that has produced Graham Greene and John Le Carré (and maybe I should also add to this list Alan Bennett, whose work on the Cambridge Spies was actually really quite interesting). 

The Russia House – John le Carré

On my very first trip to Books for Free I faced a dilemma: with Group Portrait with Lady and What a Carve Up! already in my bag I had to pick my third (and last) free book for the day. On the one hand I had The Russia House, on the other Brighton Rock by Graham Greene. Much like Donovan in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, I chose poorly, picking up le Carré’s novel and leaving behind Greene’s (never to be seen again, at least not for free!).

The Russia House is actually ok, but that’s about it. I was expecting something as exciting as Gorky Park, but instead found a fairly slow book in which, ultimately, very little happens. It probably was thrilling back in the time of Glasnost and Perestroika, but for someone who has to teach about those times (and who has grown to take a number of the comments made by Goethe as rather obvious in the late stages of the Cold War) it just wasn’t that interesting.

The love-story behind the old washed-up anti-hero and the beautiful Russian is just a bit too cliché. And the most interesting character in the novel (Landau) just disappears after two chapters.

Also, can somebody explain to me how a spy (like the narrator) who has access to tapes but not to video recordings of the meetings described can know how the characters he is spying upon are sitting and how the light reflects in their eyes?!?

Gorky Park – Martin Cruz Smith

The greatest book ever written. Seriously.

Well, maybe not.

But without a doubt one of the most enthralling crime novels I’ve ever read. Sure, it does have its fair share of problems (for instance the fact that every time I saw the main character’s name “Arkady” I actually mistakenly read “Already” – and it does get annoying over the course of 560 pages! – or the fact that from the very beginning it is quite clear that the evil Pribluda isn’t going to kill our hero, and isn’t even going to be his main antagonist), but it remains pure entertainment.

It’s also really interesting reading it through Cold War lenses: the impeccably dressed FBI agents against their clumsy Soviet counterpart, Irina’s beauty ruined forever by KGB actions, but her marks can be masked with American make-up (something that reminded me of “James Bond's "Pussy" and Anglo-American Cold War Sexuality”, one of the most interesting academic articles I’ve ever read). 

But most of all, now I know a lot more about furs…

The Quiet American – Graham Greene

The first Graham Greene I’ve read. The one that made me wish I could teach a course based on his writing about the early Cold War. Surely most historians of the Vietnam War probably cringe at the mention of a “Third Force” theory, but the book was written in 1955 and its insight is undeniable.

The book is about rich white Westerners playing god in the rest of the world (something we normally do oh so well…). Despite the fact that it’s clear that neither Fowler nor Pyle will die when they find themselves in the watchtower, those pages remain incredibly gripping and tense. Again, nether one of the two is likable – yet the reader (or, at least, the European leader) wants Fowler not just to survive, but to be happy wherever he is, be it Vietnam or the UK.

I am sure in real life Graham Greene must have been a snobby and stand-offish arrogant bore, but man could he write…

The Tin Drum – Günter Grass

One of the greatest novels I’ve ever read. Too bad it’s one book too long (I didn’t really see much of a point in the chapters on the early Cold War in Europe, probably because I find that to be a rather boring period).

Personally, I think the most significant feature of the novel is the self-portrayal of the narrator, Oskar, a character the reader initially wants to hug and cuddle, and later ends up distrusting and stepping away from. Oskar is simultaneously acute enough to decide to stop growing when he is a 3-year old disgusted by the world, and selfishly childish enough to cause the death of his two potential fathers. When I came to the realization he was responsible for the two deaths (something that I would have probably denied, had it not been for the fact that Oskar highlights it, at times with remorse, at times as a matter of fact) I was almost in tears.

Because of its size, and despite its undeniable qualities, this is a book that I had to read over the span of a week. Prolonging the anxiety for that long was really rather intense and this was a book that ended up affecting my mood throughout those days.

Our Man in Havana – Graham Greene

I teach a couple of courses on 20^th century history in what is meant to be an elite global university. I wish my students would read this book before our class on the Cuban Missile Crisis (just as I wish they would read The Quiet American before our class on the Vietnam War). However, I have the feeling that my students have the attention-span of a goldfish and cannot cope with many of the books and movies that I suggest they read and watch (one of them even told me that, as far as historical movies go, my Battle of Algiers and Deer Hunter pale in comparison to her Pearl Harbor).

Our Man in Havana is one of those books that made me laugh out loud, much to the surprise and worry of my wife. Yet, when you realize that the lives of Cifuentes, Wormold, Hasselbacher etc. might really be in danger, you just want to get to the last page of the book as quickly as you can to make sure they are all ok in the end. Sadly, not all of them are.

The book’s last-line is, to me, as wonderful as it gets.

As far as tales of misunderstandings and mistaken attempts on innocents’ lives go, this might even beat North by Northwest.