The Spy Who Came In from the Cold

The Spy Who Came In from the Cold by John le Carré

So much potential, such failure to deliver. The Spy Who Came In from the Cold is generally considered one of the greatest spy novels of all time. I understand why. It just doesn’t work for me. To be honest, I would have enjoyed this book a lot more had it been the first of le Carré’s novels that I’d read. It wasn’t; I’d read two before this one. As a result, I have already discovered that he does not like women. That knowledge made the plot very predictable. This could have—and should have—been a 5-star novel. It wasn’t.

The Spy Who Came In from the Cold is the story of an intricate British Intelligence plot to take down a powerful East German enemy. The setup is perfect. le Carré takes the reader deep into Alec Leamas’ pain. He ran agents in Berlin; all of them are dead. He’s old for a field operative. There is virtually nothing left for him. But there is this new mission, a secret mission. And it involved Leamas simultaneously reconstructing and destroying his entire life. And all the while, le Carré subtly bared Leamas’ soul to the reader. This was more than a spy novel; this was a book about purpose, loss, and self-evaluation. Everything was there.

One thing that was clear to me just a few pages into the novel was that le Carré had finally found his way as a writer. Through his first two novels, Call for the Dead and A Murder of Quality, he was still searching for his voice. It all came together for him in The Spy Who Came In from the Cold. His characters are not clichéd characters. His plot is not simple. His scenery is not generic. His relationships are real and not forced.

Unfortunately, the entire plot was driven by women being stupid. From the opening scene to the final pages of the book, everything that happens occurred only because a woman was stupid. As an isolated book, I could deal with it. In each of le Carré’s books that I’ve read, however, he’s gone out of his way to portray women negatively. It’s a pattern of his, and it really took away from the story.

Another thing that bothered me (not nearly as much as the women did) was the author’s infatuation with George Smiley, the protagonist of the first two novels. Smiley is just a minor character this time, but he randomly appeared in several scenes. Each time, le Carré noted his presence with endearing references that were out of place. It was just a way for the author to express his love for his favorite character, but it doesn’t fit. It’s a minor nitpick.

This is not: the end included about 15 unnecessary pages of exposition (le Carré loves unnecessary exposition). I’m sure the final scene was considered edgy when the novel was first published in 1963, but the preceding 15 pages ruined the impact for me.

The Spy Who Came In from the Cold is not bad. It’s not great either, although it really could have been. John le Carré is too prejudiced a man to tell the story the way it needed to be told. But it is entertaining and compelling. Still very, very good. It just leaves you longing for a taste of what it could have been.

C+