Estimated reading time: 8 minutes
Short Summary
John le Carre has not only entertained us, but shaped our collective view of espionage through his innumerable novels, but I believe few have caught the readers’ imaginations as well as those of the Karla Trilogy. In Smiley’s People, the final chapter, we follow a retired George Smiley who finds himself summoned to identify the remains of an old spy he used to manage. Trying to piece together his secrets, Smiley finds himself on a final collision course with his old nemesis, Karla himself.
Table of contents
John le Carre Sets the Final Stage
Whereas novels revolving around spies like James Bond lent the world of espionage a sense of high-stakes action, glamour and intrigue, others have successfully brought it back into the much more interesting realm of down-to-Earth realism. John le Carre is perhaps the author who deserves most of the praise for this feat, and in the final chapter of the (sort of unofficial) Karla trilogy, titled Smiley’s People, he lets his talents shine once more.
George Smiley – who has appeared through numerous other novels in John le Carre‘s work – used to work for the British Secret Service, but after a long and illustrious enough career has chosen the peace and quiet of civilian life. Naturally, such fates are far above the grasp of old spymasters, and Smiley learns as much when he finds himself summoned to identify the remains of an old spy he used to manage.
His name was Vladimir, and he was shot at point-blank range with a Moscow Centre assassination weapon, as it was expertly identified. Before his death he tried to raise hell and get in touch with Smiley, but his ramblings were taken as those of a senile old man searching in vain to right the wrongs of his past or to relive its glory days.
Convinced there was a reason behind Vladimir’s behaviour, Smiley begins his investigation in his traditionally-meticulous way, retracing the man’s steps as best he can, paying attention to the slightest details which might lead him on the right path. In the process, he finds himself paying visits to his old agents, the people who have given so much of themselves for him and Great Britain, and yet have gotten little but restless nights in return.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Smiley, his old nemesis from Moscow Centre, Karla, has begun to make his moves on the chessboard again, setting the stage for one final game between the two. He is after a key player, an aged woman named Ostrakova, who has barricaded herself in her apartment with a gun in her hand following a failed assassination attempt. She hopes her letter has reached Vladimir, and she prays night and day for the magician to come and save her. The clock is ticking for all players involved.
An Loose Thread Investigation in Smiley’s People
The espionage genre is one which suffers from a particular malady most other genres don’t have to contend with: over-complication. Or, more precisely, the ease with which it can worm its way into even the best and most carefully-crafted novels. These sorts of stories tend to involve many moving pieces with their own motives and strategies, and even John le Carré is not immune to it (as is the case with Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy , at least in my opinion).
The way I see it, the simpler the plot in a spy novel and the fewer moving parts it contains, the better it is in the long run, especially if the story is on the longer side of things. It becomes much more feasible to keep up with what everyone is up to, how all the pieces fit together, and perhaps most importantly, to get invested in a few key characters.
In this regard, Smiley’s People fits my personal taste like a glove. The plot is, from the start, rather simple and straightforward: an old spy dies, and Smiley ensures his secrets don’t die with him. In some ways, it’s much of a murder mystery or a detective novel, as it is an espionage one. Smiley investigates Vladimir’s life and death in the classic way, following one clue to the next, unearthing bits and pieces of his final days on Earth.
As a matter of fact, I would even go as far as saying this is one of the best detective novels (covered in a thick glaze of espionage, of course) I’ve had the pleasure of reading. The significance of the clues we discover is rarely easy to comprehend, and yet when Smiley extrapolates a world of information from them, it all seems obvious with the power of hindsight.
Perhaps most importantly, the investigation itself feels extremely realistic, especially in the way Smiley conducts it, never overstepping his bounds, working with class and discretion while making the most of what little he has. Once all is said and done, we can look back on the path we followed and marvel at how neatly it was reconstructed from a few threads which hung loose, but were nevertheless enough for George Smiley to do what he does best.
Graceless Exits
If there is one permeating atmosphere through the novel, I would say it’s one of terminality. Most of the characters involved in this novel, including Smiley and his titular people (as well as some of his enemies) are all old and past it, trying desperately to drop the mantle of espionage which seems glued to their skins. They are all tired and yearn for peace, even if it is only for their twilight. It’s a novel of people making final, desperate plays in a game which has long-ago forgotten them.
The sophistication with which John le Carre approaches the topic of retired spies in Smiley’s People is palpable from the very start, exploring to a great depth the way the see themselves versus how they are perceived by the world around them. Perhaps there are those who spend their retirements in peace with their pleasant recollections, but this isn’t a novel about those. Most have black spots on their histories, memories they would gladly trade away… failures they are condemned to live with.
Additionally, the moral ambiguity often colouring John le Carre‘s novels makes its presence felt here quite strongly, but more as the novel progresses rather than the beginning. Of course, the bad guys are still the bad guys, but only by a measure of being slightly worse than the good guys, who must also resort to committing evil in the name of good. Smiley, more than anyone, is aware of this paradox and suffers silently in the face of it.
The deeper we get into the story, the more we get acquainted with some of the characters from the other side of the curtain, the more we start to also see them as human beings, playing the same game as our heroes, with the difference being they are on the other side of the board. The sense of ultimate futility the characters often feel in this novel is definitely imparted on the reader, at least to some extent.
Ultimately, as fascinating as it might be to read about them, we see a presentation which rings true about the mental toll of not only being a spy, but also facing obsolescence as one, especially as life goes on and even their supposed allies forget about their existence. There are no graceful exists from this profession… the most one can hope for is making up for the failures of the past, just as Smiley hopes to finally score his decisive victory against Karla. But even then, what does it truly achieve? A highly entertaining story for the reader, of course.
| PAGES | PUBLISHER | PUB. DATE | ISBN |
|---|---|---|---|
| 416 | Penguin Books | June 28 2011 | 978-0143119777 |
The Final Verdict
Smiley’s People by John le Carre is not only one of my favourite novels by the author, but one of my favourite works in the genre of espionage period. It keeps things simple to its own benefit, presents us with a compelling mystery which gets unwrapped in captivating fashion, and takes us into the minds of numerous fascinating characters, each with their own takes on their lots in life. Not to mention, it doesn’t lack food for thought either.
If you’re a fan of the author in general, or are looking for an espionage story running on the rails of a detective, more on the calmer side but filled with ingenuity and profound insights, then I think you’ll truly enjoy all this novel has to offer.
John le Carre
(October 19, 1931 – December 12, 2020)
David John Moore Cornwell , better known by his pen name John le Carre, is a British former intelligence officer and author whose works are all centred on the domain of espionage.
He had the distinction of working for both MI5 and MI6 during the 1950s and 1960s, at the same time as his third novel, The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, became an international bestseller.
Several of his most celebrated works have been adapted into movies and television series, including The Constant Gardener, The Night Manager and Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.
