Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy by John Le Carre

I’ve decided to call this kind of story a “Heartburn Thriller.” You know, the kind where there’s not much dashing around or fighting or shooting, but you’re on pins and needles, flipping the pages as fast as you can, trying to figure out what’s going on, and getting the characters’ acid indigestion along with them. I haven’t read many of this type of story, and this was the first John Le Carre novel I’ve read, but I think I’m hooked.

Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (published in 1974, when Europe was structured just a bit differently than it is today) is now a classic tale of George Smiley’s dogged determination to find the mole in British intelligence. Smiley is even smarter than your average spy, which is entertaining enough, but the way the reader is pulled along with (or perhaps sucked into) the ultimate spy versus spy story is what makes this novel brilliant. I wish I could put my finger on exactly how this works, what the difference is between this book and any other book, even books about espionage and counter-espionage. Perhaps it is how real all of the characters are. Their intelligence is always challenged by that of some other smart guy. Their paranoia is pathological, but it’s the only thing keeping them alive. Their personal lives are kind of pathetic, but what can you expect from the type of person who is at his best when up to his eyebrows in secrets, lies and damage control.

The storytelling in this novel, an adaptation of which is now in theaters, relies on a series of flashbacks, and we are only given these flashbacks on a need-to-know basis. We have some idea that the characters have been through a pretty serious and dangerous history, but we get it from them in bits and pieces that build the tension and give us the hints we need to follow Smiley as he figures everything out. Unfortunately, while the main plot is resolved, we are not left with much of a whew!-everything’s-going-to-be-all-right feeling. We are left only with a tad bit of relief and some lingering heartburn.

So why is this so enjoyable? Why am I left feeling thrilled and entertained rather than depressed and paranoid? Perhaps because, as a reader who knows she’s been reading and not living the story, I’m a bit astonished at how I was pulled into the novel. Perhaps it is that I am pleased that I have found something so well and uniquely written (at least compared to my meager experience.) Perhaps it is the relief of knowing that this is fiction, that this is not real.

Or is it?


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