'Spies Like Us: A Conversation With John le Carré and Ben Macintyre' diff viewer (0/1)

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Spies Like Us: A Conversation With John le Carré and Ben Macintyre	Spies Like Us: A Conversation With John le Carré and Ben Macintyre
2017-08-28 19:05:05 UTC	2017-09-01 17:15:10 UTC (4 days later)
BRISTOL, England — Their subject is spying. Their obsessions are secrecy and betrayal. They are Englishmen of a certain background, old friends and admirers of each other’s work. One writes novels; the other, nonfiction. They speak in practically perfect sentences.	BRISTOL, England — Their subject is spying. Their obsessions are secrecy and betrayal. They are Englishmen of a certain background, old friends and admirers of each other’s work. One writes novels; the other, nonfiction. They speak in practically perfect sentences.
Conversations between John le Carré and Ben Macintyre are inevitably warm, interesting, witty, discursive, conspiratorial and gossipy, although their gossip is often espionage-related and more rarefied than yours or mine. They met for lunch recently, on a desultorily sunny weekday in a private dining room at a boutique hotel in Bristol. Le Carré, 85, had been driven from his home in Cornwall (he also lives in London) by his family’s “outdoor man,” responsible for yardwork and other outside-the-house tasks; Macintyre, 53, had come by train from Winchester, where he had been speaking at a literary festival.	Conversations between John le Carré and Ben Macintyre are inevitably warm, interesting, witty, discursive, conspiratorial and gossipy, although their gossip is often espionage-related and more rarefied than yours or mine. They met for lunch recently, on a desultorily sunny weekday in a private dining room at a boutique hotel in Bristol. Le Carré, 85, had been driven from his home in Cornwall (he also lives in London) by his family’s “outdoor man,” responsible for yardwork and other outside-the-house tasks; Macintyre, 53, had come by train from Winchester, where he had been speaking at a literary festival.
As usual, they were in the midst of a flurry of projects, finishing things up and starting new ones. Le Carré, who over a 56-year career has virtually single-handedly elevated spy novels from genre fiction into works of high literature, has a new book, “A Legacy of Spies,” coming out in September. Thrillingly for his admirers, it is a coda of sorts to “The Spy Who Came In From the Cold” (1963), the third of his two dozen novels and the one that for many readers serves as the gateway drug to full-blown le Carré addiction.	As usual, they were in the midst of a flurry of projects, finishing things up and starting new ones. Le Carré, who over a 56-year career has virtually single-handedly elevated spy novels from genre fiction into works of high literature, has a new book, “A Legacy of Spies,” coming out in September. Thrillingly for his admirers, it is a coda of sorts to “The Spy Who Came In From the Cold” (1963), the third of his two dozen novels and the one that for many readers serves as the gateway drug to full-blown le Carré addiction.
Macintyre, meanwhile, is a longtime columnist for The Times of London and the author of 11 elegant, authoritative and dryly humorous nonfiction works, focusing most recently on 20th-century British espionage. He has a deep appreciation for the amusing and the absurd. His most recent book is “Rogue Heroes,” about the origins of the British special forces unit; he is working on a new one, about a Cold War spy case.	Macintyre, meanwhile, is a longtime columnist for The Times of London and the author of 11 elegant, authoritative and dryly humorous nonfiction works, focusing most recently on 20th-century British espionage. He has a deep appreciation for the amusing and the absurd. His most recent book is “Rogue Heroes,” about the origins of the British special forces unit; he is working on a new one, about a Cold War spy case.
Early in his writing, le Carré introduced the subversive hypothesis that the spies of East and West were two sides of the same tarnished coin, each as bad as the other. It was a stunning idea, espionage painted not in black and white but in shades of gray. With the fall of the Berlin Wall, the author lost the scaffolding for his fiction. His later books are angrier, more polemical, their worldview darker, reflecting the chaotic morality of the post-Soviet era and often presenting the United States — with its exceptionalism, its flouting of international norms, as he sees it — as the villain in the post-Cold War era.	Early in his writing, le Carré introduced the subversive hypothesis that the spies of East and West were two sides of the same tarnished coin, each as bad as the other. It was a stunning idea, espionage painted not in black and white but in shades of gray. With the fall of the Berlin Wall, the author lost the scaffolding for his fiction. His later books are angrier, more polemical, their worldview darker, reflecting the chaotic morality of the post-Soviet era and often presenting the United States — with its exceptionalism, its flouting of international norms, as he sees it — as the villain in the post-Cold War era.
“A Legacy of Spies” returns to the past from the vantage point of the present. Elderly and retired to France, the ex-spy Peter Guillam, an old acquaintance of the attentive le Carré reader, is made to answer for long-buried sins when the adult children of the two principal casualties in “The Spy Who Came In From the Cold” suddenly bring a lawsuit against the security services. Guillam is forced to revisit the dubious setup and muddy justification for that operation, answering awkward questions from humorless young officials who have no patience for or understanding of how the agency operated in the old days. Even George Smiley himself makes an appearance.	“A Legacy of Spies” returns to the past from the vantage point of the present. Elderly and retired to France, the ex-spy Peter Guillam, an old acquaintance of the attentive le Carré reader, is made to answer for long-buried sins when the adult children of the two principal casualties in “The Spy Who Came In From the Cold” suddenly bring a lawsuit against the security services. Guillam is forced to revisit the dubious setup and muddy justification for that operation, answering awkward questions from humorless young officials who have no patience for or understanding of how the agency operated in the old days. Even George Smiley himself makes an appearance.
The publication of the new work is being treated as a major literary occasion in Britain. A reading and Q. and A. at the Royal Festival Hall in London on Sept. 7 will be broadcast live in theaters in Britain and ~~Europe.~~	The publication of the new work is being treated as a major literary occasion in Britain. A reading and Q. and A. at the Royal Festival Hall in London on Sept. 7 will be broadcast live in theaters in Britain and Europe, and shown in movie theaters in the United States and Australia in the fall.
In real life, le Carré is known as David Cornwell. He took his pen name to keep his day job — spying for Britain, which he did in the 1950s and early ’60s — separate from his writing identity. Over a bottle of white wine and, among other things, smoked salmon served under a glass from which clouds of smoke actually billowed out, he and Macintyre needed little prompting to speak. They all but interviewed themselves.	In real life, le Carré is known as David Cornwell. He took his pen name to keep his day job — spying for Britain, which he did in the 1950s and early ’60s — separate from his writing identity. Over a bottle of white wine and, among other things, smoked salmon served under a glass from which clouds of smoke actually billowed out, he and Macintyre needed little prompting to speak. They all but interviewed themselves.
The interview has been edited and condensed.	The interview has been edited and condensed.
S.L. Let’s talk about the new book, David. It’s been a long time since you wrote about the Cold War. Why did you want to revisit it now?	S.L. Let’s talk about the new book, David. It’s been a long time since you wrote about the Cold War. Why did you want to revisit it now?
J.L.C. Because it seems to me, as Smiley says at the end of the book, that what happened then turns out to have been futile. Spies did not win the Cold War. They made absolutely no difference in the long run.	J.L.C. Because it seems to me, as Smiley says at the end of the book, that what happened then turns out to have been futile. Spies did not win the Cold War. They made absolutely no difference in the long run.
I wanted to take the characters and apply the experience of my own life, and examine what happened to them from a human, humanitarian dimension. And then place the whole story in this vacuum in which we live at the moment, which is occupied by really threatening forces. What marks the Cold War period is that at least we had a defining mission. At the moment our mission is survival. The thing that joins the West is fear. And everything else is up for grabs.	I wanted to take the characters and apply the experience of my own life, and examine what happened to them from a human, humanitarian dimension. And then place the whole story in this vacuum in which we live at the moment, which is occupied by really threatening forces. What marks the Cold War period is that at least we had a defining mission. At the moment our mission is survival. The thing that joins the West is fear. And everything else is up for grabs.
S.L. Ben, you have said that David’s work had a big influence in your becoming interested in the world of espionage. Which of his novels did you read first?	S.L. Ben, you have said that David’s work had a big influence in your becoming interested in the world of espionage. Which of his novels did you read first?
B.M. Oh, I think it was “The Spy Who Came In From the Cold.” It had a profound impact on me. I always felt that the books were deeply based in experience. It’s no accident that some of our greatest writers have been spooks — Greene, Somerset Maugham, Ian Fleming, Priestley and you, David.	B.M. Oh, I think it was “The Spy Who Came In From the Cold.” It had a profound impact on me. I always felt that the books were deeply based in experience. It’s no accident that some of our greatest writers have been spooks — Greene, Somerset Maugham, Ian Fleming, Priestley and you, David.
Spying and fiction are not entirely different processes. You try to create an artificial world. And the better and more realistic and more emotionally believable you can make that world, as either a spy or a novelist, the better you are going to be at it. These are characters who make up their past, who make up their present and who try to imagine a future.	Spying and fiction are not entirely different processes. You try to create an artificial world. And the better and more realistic and more emotionally believable you can make that world, as either a spy or a novelist, the better you are going to be at it. These are characters who make up their past, who make up their present and who try to imagine a future.
J.L.C. And you must also contemplate all the varieties of a person’s character. Could she be this? Could he be that? Can I turn him or her into that other person? All of those are actually the serious preoccupations of a novelist. One of the fascinations of the intelligence world is that it’s such a reflection of the society it serves. If you really want to examine the national psychology, it’s locked in the secret world.	J.L.C. And you must also contemplate all the varieties of a person’s character. Could she be this? Could he be that? Can I turn him or her into that other person? All of those are actually the serious preoccupations of a novelist. One of the fascinations of the intelligence world is that it’s such a reflection of the society it serves. If you really want to examine the national psychology, it’s locked in the secret world.
As it turns out, both le Carré and Macintyre were recruited by Britain’s intelligence services as young men. Their experiences were starkly different. Le Carré, whose childhood was awful and whose father was a notorious con man, signed up. Macintyre, approached by a professor in his final year at Cambridge and interviewed by someone called “Major Halliday,” demurred.	As it turns out, both le Carré and Macintyre were recruited by Britain’s intelligence services as young men. Their experiences were starkly different. Le Carré, whose childhood was awful and whose father was a notorious con man, signed up. Macintyre, approached by a professor in his final year at Cambridge and interviewed by someone called “Major Halliday,” demurred.
J.L.C. Ben came from a secure family, nice background, interesting father, all of that. [Macintyre’s father was a history professor at Oxford.] But I felt in a curious way that I needed a stable institution, and more than that, a kind of paternalistic institution. I mean, I was brought up middle class, but I came from the criminal class. And that made me enormously attractive to the spies, because larceny was built in.	J.L.C. Ben came from a secure family, nice background, interesting father, all of that. [Macintyre’s father was a history professor at Oxford.] But I felt in a curious way that I needed a stable institution, and more than that, a kind of paternalistic institution. I mean, I was brought up middle class, but I came from the criminal class. And that made me enormously attractive to the spies, because larceny was built in.
B.M. It was the typical sort of tap on the shoulder. It was quite amusing, really. A don that I didn’t know terribly well came barreling up and he said, “What are you doing after university?” I said, “I don’t really know.” And he said, “Well, there are some parts of the Foreign Office that are different from other parts of the Foreign Office. In a sense, they are different from the Foreign Office itself.” He went on for about five minutes. Of course, I knew exactly what he was saying, although he never actually said it.	B.M. It was the typical sort of tap on the shoulder. It was quite amusing, really. A don that I didn’t know terribly well came barreling up and he said, “What are you doing after university?” I said, “I don’t really know.” And he said, “Well, there are some parts of the Foreign Office that are different from other parts of the Foreign Office. In a sense, they are different from the Foreign Office itself.” He went on for about five minutes. Of course, I knew exactly what he was saying, although he never actually said it.
So I went along to Carlton House Terrace [where MI6 had an office]. And there was very clearly more than one Major Halliday, because other people I know were recruited by a completely different Major Halliday. Mine had on socks and sandals, which was quite upsetting at the time.	So I went along to Carlton House Terrace [where MI6 had an office]. And there was very clearly more than one Major Halliday, because other people I know were recruited by a completely different Major Halliday. Mine had on socks and sandals, which was quite upsetting at the time.
I was flattered and interested, and David was probably responsible for my interest. I just thought that the characters seemed so complicated and fascinating and corrupted. I mean, there’s something very louche about British intelligence, something very unmoored. I don’t know whether it creates people who go off the rails, or whether you have to be slightly off the rails to want to do it.	I was flattered and interested, and David was probably responsible for my interest. I just thought that the characters seemed so complicated and fascinating and corrupted. I mean, there’s something very louche about British intelligence, something very unmoored. I don’t know whether it creates people who go off the rails, or whether you have to be slightly off the rails to want to do it.
S.L. What happened then?	S.L. What happened then?
B.M. I had one other meeting.	B.M. I had one other meeting.
J.L.C. And no lunch?	J.L.C. And no lunch?
B.M. No, it never got to lunch. I was headed off to America, and it wasn’t going to be my scene. But I was very fascinated by it, for nonfiction purposes. There’s something about writing about this world that enables you to write about the sort of things that novelists usually write about — loyalty and love and betrayal and romance and adventure. And because spies invent their world, and often invent their pasts, they’re tremendously unreliable narrators. You have a wonderful backdrop of truth and nontruth to work against.	B.M. No, it never got to lunch. I was headed off to America, and it wasn’t going to be my scene. But I was very fascinated by it, for nonfiction purposes. There’s something about writing about this world that enables you to write about the sort of things that novelists usually write about — loyalty and love and betrayal and romance and adventure. And because spies invent their world, and often invent their pasts, they’re tremendously unreliable narrators. You have a wonderful backdrop of truth and nontruth to work against.
David’s novels are so brilliant because they’re emotionally and psychologically absolutely true, but of course they’re novels. And what I try to do in mine is write something that truly reads like a novel but nonetheless cleaves closely and absolutely to what happened.	David’s novels are so brilliant because they’re emotionally and psychologically absolutely true, but of course they’re novels. And what I try to do in mine is write something that truly reads like a novel but nonetheless cleaves closely and absolutely to what happened.
S.L. Is there something about the British psyche that makes spying, or at least duplicity, an enticing prospect?	S.L. Is there something about the British psyche that makes spying, or at least duplicity, an enticing prospect?
B.M. We Brits are particularly susceptible to the double life, aren’t we? Is it because we are a sort of theatrical, and sort of unfaithful, culture?	B.M. We Brits are particularly susceptible to the double life, aren’t we? Is it because we are a sort of theatrical, and sort of unfaithful, culture?
J.L.C. I think it’s because hypocrisy is the national sport. For our class in my era, public school was a deliberately brutalizing process that separated you from your parents, and your parents were parties to that. They integrated you with imperial ambitions and then let you loose into the world with a sense of elitism — but with your heart frozen.	J.L.C. I think it’s because hypocrisy is the national sport. For our class in my era, public school was a deliberately brutalizing process that separated you from your parents, and your parents were parties to that. They integrated you with imperial ambitions and then let you loose into the world with a sense of elitism — but with your heart frozen.
B.M. There is no deceiver more effective than a public-school-educated Brit. He could be standing next to you in the bus queue, having a Force 12 nervous breakdown, and you’d never be any the wiser.	B.M. There is no deceiver more effective than a public-school-educated Brit. He could be standing next to you in the bus queue, having a Force 12 nervous breakdown, and you’d never be any the wiser.
J.L.C. When you’ve become that frozen child, but you’re an outwardly functioning, charming chap, there is a lot of wasteland inside you that is waiting to be cultivated.	J.L.C. When you’ve become that frozen child, but you’re an outwardly functioning, charming chap, there is a lot of wasteland inside you that is waiting to be cultivated.
S.L. David, you’ve spoken about your childhood, your outrageously criminal father, how you were sent to boarding school when you were 5, the lies that permeated everything. How did all this come to play when you were recruited by MI5?	S.L. David, you’ve spoken about your childhood, your outrageously criminal father, how you were sent to boarding school when you were 5, the lies that permeated everything. How did all this come to play when you were recruited by MI5?
J.L.C. The truth, in my childhood, didn’t really exist. That is to say, we shared the lies. To run the household with no money required a lot of serious lying to the local garage man, the local butcher, the local everybody. And then there was the extra element of class. All my grandparents and all my aunts and uncles were entirely working class — laborers, builders, that sort of thing. One of them worked up telegraph poles. And so out of that to invent, as my father did, this socially adept, well-spoken, charming chap — that was an operation of great complicity. And I had to lie about my parental situation while I was at boarding school. I only mention these things because they’re the extremes of what can warp an Englishman.	J.L.C. The truth, in my childhood, didn’t really exist. That is to say, we shared the lies. To run the household with no money required a lot of serious lying to the local garage man, the local butcher, the local everybody. And then there was the extra element of class. All my grandparents and all my aunts and uncles were entirely working class — laborers, builders, that sort of thing. One of them worked up telegraph poles. And so out of that to invent, as my father did, this socially adept, well-spoken, charming chap — that was an operation of great complicity. And I had to lie about my parental situation while I was at boarding school. I only mention these things because they’re the extremes of what can warp an Englishman.
B.M. What you’ve just described — is it the root of your fiction? Your ability to think yourself into someone else?	B.M. What you’ve just described — is it the root of your fiction? Your ability to think yourself into someone else?
J.L.C. Absolutely. I mean childhood, at my age, is no excuse for anything. But it is a fact that my childhood was aberrant and peculiar and nomadic and absolutely unpredictable. So if I was in boarding school, I didn’t know where I would be spending the holidays. If my father said he was going to come and take me out, it was as likely as not that he wouldn’t show up. I would say to the other boys, I had a wonderful day out, when I had really been sitting in a field somewhere.	J.L.C. Absolutely. I mean childhood, at my age, is no excuse for anything. But it is a fact that my childhood was aberrant and peculiar and nomadic and absolutely unpredictable. So if I was in boarding school, I didn’t know where I would be spending the holidays. If my father said he was going to come and take me out, it was as likely as not that he wouldn’t show up. I would say to the other boys, I had a wonderful day out, when I had really been sitting in a field somewhere.
The mixture of solitude and uncertainty fertilized the situation enormously. To which you must add the amazing cast of crooked characters who passed through my father’s life. Inevitably I was making up stories to myself, retreating into myself. And then there was the genetic inheritance I got from my father. This was a man who, while still being pursued by the police, or bankrupt, or Christ knows what, who had done prison time, then boldly stands as a parliamentary candidate. He had a huge capacity for invention. He had absolutely no relationship to the truth. He would come talk to me in the morning and I would challenge him, and in the evening he would say, “That’s not what I said to you.”	The mixture of solitude and uncertainty fertilized the situation enormously. To which you must add the amazing cast of crooked characters who passed through my father’s life. Inevitably I was making up stories to myself, retreating into myself. And then there was the genetic inheritance I got from my father. This was a man who, while still being pursued by the police, or bankrupt, or Christ knows what, who had done prison time, then boldly stands as a parliamentary candidate. He had a huge capacity for invention. He had absolutely no relationship to the truth. He would come talk to me in the morning and I would challenge him, and in the evening he would say, “That’s not what I said to you.”
S.L. Do you see parallels with President Trump’s view of the truth?	S.L. Do you see parallels with President Trump’s view of the truth?
J.L.C. Exactly that. He is the most recent model. Before that it was Robert Maxwell. The parallels are extraordinary. My sister, too, we absolutely recognize the same syndrome. There is not a grain of truth there.	J.L.C. Exactly that. He is the most recent model. Before that it was Robert Maxwell. The parallels are extraordinary. My sister, too, we absolutely recognize the same syndrome. There is not a grain of truth there.