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Fictio Thrille Featuring George Smiley, this New York Times bestseller is the third and final installment in the Karla Trilogy, from the author of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and The Spy Who Came in from the Cold Tell Max that it concerns the Sandman. A very junior agent answers Vladimir's call, but it could have been the Chief of the Circus himself. No one at the British Secret Service considers the old spy to be anything except a senile has-been who can't give up the game-until he's shot in the face at point-blank range. Although George Smiley (code name: Max) is officially retired, he's summoned to identify the body now bearing Moscow Centre's bloody imprimatur. As he works to unearth his friend's fatal secrets, Smiley heads inexorably toward one final reckoning with Karla-his dark "grail." In Smiley's People, master storyteller and New York Times bestselling author of The Spy Who Came in from the Cold and Our Kind of Traitor John le CarrE brings his acclaimed Karla Trilogy, to its unforgettable, spellbinding conclusion. With an introduction by the autho… (more)
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I found Smiley's People the weakest book of the trilogy. While it starts out promisingly (if somewhat bewilderingly) enough -- the point of view soon shifts to Smiley in his spartan, bachelor existence (his aristocratic and promiscuous wife, Ann, who played a pivotal role in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, has left, but not divorced him) and holds on him for much of the book -- a late, blessedly temporary, shift to the POV of a young woman nearly sank the narrative for me; clearly, whatever le Carre's strengths as a writer are, writing from the POV of a young woman is not one of them. The story is saved by resuming its focus on Smiley, but the authorial misstep is severe enough and late enough in the book to leave an indelible, and unwelcome, impression.
As with the previous books, most of the action is off-screen, although, as with the trilogy's predecessors, that doesn't keep Smiley's People from being gripping and suspenseful if one is not utterly addicted to conventional action thriller antics. I especially enjoyed the meeting between Smiley and his former bosses, and their apologias for and grousings about the current British administration (a leftist one [given the timeframe of the events herein, Britain had a Labour government led by James Callaghan, and was likely operating under the Lib-Lab Pact of 1977] with little use for the Cold War status quo of the foreign intelligence service, although not one so unrealistic as to totally disenfranchise or defund it), and the sophistry they (chiefly Lacon; in Chapter 4, le Carré observes, "In Lacon's world, direct questions were the height of bad taste but direct answers were worse"; p. 49) employ to put daylight between themselves and personal responsibility for giving Smiley his head to work a possible coup against the Soviets; as with the late, lamented British TV series The Sandbaggers and its stepchild, Greg Rucka's Queen & Country series of comic books and novels, and indeed in Len Deighton's three trilogies starring Bernard Samson (the Game, Set and Match, Hook, Line and Sinker, and Faith, Hope and Charity trilogies), le Carré posits a covert universe where the greatest dangers are from one's own side, and the hardest fought and most significant battles play out in the dispiriting and featureless rooms where one meets with one's own superiors. Such a mindset and presentation are clearly not for every taste; but for those who are of a similar bent or who are persuadable, le Carré offers a rich, layered, and deep (and deeply fraught) narrative where the personal and the political are inextricably (and surprisingly) entwined, where one is never sure of the ground beneath, ahead, or behind him, and where one is never quite certain that the game was, or is, worth the candle.
Also in keeping with the previous volumes, le Carré salts Smiley's People with neat turns of phrase, passages of poetry (Rupert Brooke; W.H. Auden), and sly nods to genre antecedents -- one of Smiley's cover identities is Standfast (a nod to the title of an espionage-cum-adventure novel by John Buchan, the third novel featuring Richard Hannay, Mr Standfast; of course, Buchan took his title from John Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress); glancing references are dropped to The Secret Sharer (Chapter 12, p. 151), the title of a novella by Joseph Conrad, whose novels The Secret Agent and Under Western Eyes may be regarded as prototypes of the modern espionage novel (indeed, Conrad was an influence on both Graham Greene and le Carré) and Army of Shadows (Chapter 6, p. 73), an excellent 1969 movie about the French resistance to the Nazi occupation written and directed by Jean-Pierre Melville, based on the autobiographical 1943 novel by Joseph Kessel -- and other little "Easter eggs" (another of Smiley's cover identities is Barraclough, which could reference either Geoffrey Barraclough, a British historian whose specialties were medieval and German history [Smiley is a German philologist; le Carré notes, in Chapter 12, that "German was Smiley's second language, and sometimes his first"; p. 155], or Roy Barraclough, a comic actor best known for playing a "shifty, lugubrious landlord" on Coronation Street; Smiley was laboring on a monograph on the baroque poet Martin Opitz when the events of the novel were set in motion [Chapter 2; pps. 25-6], and reads a volume of Adam Olearius when he goes out to dinner, the better to isolate himself from the importuning of acquaintances [p. 33]).
But, underlying these rather sterile enjoyments are the not inconsiderable human touches: some key supporting characters from the previous books make welcome return engagements, chiefly Russian specialist Connie Sachs (who was apparently very loosely based on Milicent Bagot) and Toby Esterhase (who nearly steals the show every time he opens his mouth here); while George's big meeting with his estranged wife is bleakly poignant in a classically understated British way (Ann tells him, "'I'm a comedian, George....I need a straight man. I need you.'"; Chapter 20, p. 295). It's also easily as gripping as the dialogues more directly dealing with the novel's multiple interlocking plots.
Though there is internal evidence that Smiley's People takes place in 1978 (as, for example, on p. 187 [Chapter 14]), a mere year prior to its date of publication, it has the feeling of a historical novel not entirely due to the fact that I read it over three decades after it was first published, given the "new brooms" that the "Lib-Lab" government are taking to their intelligence services, and the role that revolutionaries (some of them White Russian, or tsarist) exiled from the Soviet Union and the Iron Curtain countries -- revolutionaries disregarded and sidelined by both the Circus and "the Cousins" (i.e., the CIA) -- play in the plot. Lacon et al make it abundantly clear to Smiley that they consider all of the skulduggery surrounding the "quest for Karla" old, if not actually irrelevant, business; it would be a mistake, however, to dismiss the situations depicted in Smiley's People as a mere entertainment, with no relevance to our present times.
And so on. Don't get me wrong, I love this stuff – but it's a game, it's amusing, it's manifestly nonsense. The thrill of what le Carré does in the Karla trilogy – and I don't believe anyone does it better – is of a completely different order. You believe it: the leaps of intuition are logical and motivated, and just slightly out of your reach, so that you constantly feel both flattered to be keeping up and somewhat awestruck at how they always make the connections a bit faster than you do. It's rather like how I feel when I play through top-level chess games, the sense that you can just about follow why they're doing what they're doing; the deceptive conviction, as you watch an unexpected rook sacrifice, that it all makes perfect sense and that you would undoubtedly have thought of the same move yourself.
This is hard to do as a writer. Because writers are often not that smart, even when they're talented. Le Carré writes as though he's smarter than all his readers, and when I read him I'm convinced. The thrills in these books come not from action sequences, but from the plausibility of the dialogue: I was more on edge during Smiley's calm ‘interrogation’ of Toby Esterhase here than I've been in any number of car chase or bomb-defusion scenes. What to say next? How to press them in exactly the right way, without scaring them off?
In a sense this book is composed simply of a number of these intense, magesterially-written duologues stacked together, a stichomythic layer-cake: Smiley and Lacon, Smiley and Mikhel, Smiley and Esterhase, Smiley and Connie, Smiley and Grigoriev, Smiley and Alexandra…and always, at the end, the prospect of somehow reaching the the endgame conversation, between Smiley and Karla. (It would be quiet and undramatic, and fascinating.) But then again, the whole trilogy is that conversation being played out.
These dialogues are stitched together with a prose style that is economical and unclichéd. The plot is thick and chewy and le Carré does not cheat with his exposition. Perhaps overall [book:The Honourable Schoolboy|18990] was my favourite – I just love the oblique portrayal of foreign reporting – but this is a stupendous end to a brilliant trilogy. A lot of books are clever – ‘oh that's clever,’ you might say after a literary trick or a narrative sleight-of-hand. These books are intelligent. That's rare enough in fiction as it is, and the fact that it comes in so-called genre fiction just shows how distracting such ghettos can be.
This book is much more like Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy in tone. It details various interconnected yet solitary quests and hones in on George Smiley's pursuit of Karla, his white whale. The first novel in the trilogy is laced with betrayal, the second with the end of Empire (both American and English), and this one is all about personal endings and the tragedies that come from choices made or neglected. It's a melancholy book, even in its ending, artfully acknowledging that the journey is almost always more satisfying than the destination.
Before he was murdered Vladimir telephoned the Circus to speak to Max. That is his vicar, George Smiley. The General had two proofs and insisted on Moscow rules. It was about the Sandman. After Vladimir was murdered the new boys at the Circus brought George out of retirement to clean things up. George found a cigarette pack hidden up in a tree and began Karla's downfall.
The plot has a full cast of characters each with a small piece of the story. Maria Ostrokova is a Russian emigre in Paris who writes the General out of fear for a daughter she has never seen. The General and Otto Leipzig are Baltic emigres with a shared hatred for the Soviet system. Smiley finds Otto murdered and recovers his piece of the puzzle from Claus Kretzchmer, a German porn entrepreneur. Mikhel, proud of his days in the Estonian cavalry, is a comrade of the General. Villem, or William, Craven does a critical errand for the General based on their family ties from Estonia. Counsellor Grigeriov is an incompetent agent whose fears his wife above all else in the world. George brings Toby Esterhase and Connie or Mother Russia out of forced retirement to assist him. Alexandra Borisovna, a Russian girl forced to live in a religious asylum, is the key to Smiley's revenge.
There is a last visit with Ann while Smiley patiently puts together the pieces of the story. He once again shows his spy craft while interrogating Grigoriev while reading from a blank sheet of paper. The interrogation is a masterful scene, crackling with tension, presided over by the calm and patient George. That's all I can tell or I will give away the ending.
I have read this book several times and still enjoy my visits with George Smiley. The contrast between George Smiley's poignant humanity and the cold realities of the spy world are a unique combination created by a skilled writer. I heartily recommend reading this book.
A story that's gripping, interesting background material,
non-predictability. Recommended.
Our hero George Smiley is brought out of retirement by some antics and death of an old retired contact. And we follow Mr. Smiley as he works to solve the case or close it any way he can. Of course George Smiley does his utmost to solve it. And it is this journey he takes that leads us to his old time foe from the Soviet Union, Karla.
Smiley does not seem like a spy, but his methods, instincts and powers of observations are exceptional. But what any person attuned to his surroundings would have. It is nice to have a normal human hero. One who shoes us his range of emotions and thought process. And the realistic ending. Yes it may seem anticlimactic. But I prefer the realism of it all.
The plot is slow, but in a good way. There are several characters involved, some more important than others, but everybody fits in the story. Sometimes it may seem that things don’t make sense and you may
The main character is George Smiley. In this book he is already retired and living a quiet life until he has to go back to his job. People who are expecting lots of action and bullets will be disappointed. Smiley’s greatest weapon is not a gun or a knife. It’s his mind.
Something I liked about this book is that the bad people (bad from Smiley’s point of view) don’t behave the way they do just because of the Soviet Union. It is interesting to see how most of them have more personal reasons and how those are discovered.
This is an amazing story that I recommend to everybody who likes good spy novels set during the Cold War.
George Smiley er gået på pension, men bliver kaldt ind på grund af et dødsfald. En gammel meddeler Vladimir er blevet skudt. Forinden har vi fulgt en kvinde Maria Ostrokova, der blev sluppet ud af Stalin-Rusland mod at forsøge at overtale hendes mand til at vende tilbage. Hun
Bogen slutter med at Karla hopper af og bliver leveret videre til amerikanerne. Anne's lighter spiller en lille men vigtig birolle.
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Le Carre's mastery of storytelling language places him at the forefront of modern day authors: I give 3 quotes to illustrate his literary eloquence for setting a scene:
"For it was a truth known also to Moscow Centre murder teams that even the oldest hands will spend hours worrying about their backs, their flanks, the cars that pass and the cars that don't, the streets they cross and the houses that they enter, Yet still fail, when the moment is upon them, to recognise the danger that greets them face to face."
"To drink she had to lean her whole trunk towards the glass. And as her huge head lurched into the glare of the lamplight, he saw - he knew from too much experience - that she was telling no less than the truth, and her flesh had the leprous whiteness of death."
""By his self-effacement, Toby insists, George held the whole scene 'like a thrush's egg in his hand.'"
Smiley's People can be read without reference to the previous parts of the trilogy although I do advise that is like consuming War & Peace minus the 'war'!
Plus I love stories of
Smiley is too staid and introverted to admit that, but it's there. None of the Circus's current generation of proto-Thatcherites are interested in bringing down an old Soviet spymaster (all the people he slipped past are gone or on their way out, and besides the Cold War is so very cold) but for Smiley bringing down Karla means his life will have been worth something.
Le Carré's best.