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TIME: Almanac 1995
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1994-03-25
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<text id=93TT0146>
<title>
July 12, 1993: Reviews:Books
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993
July 12, 1993 Reno:The Real Thing
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
REVIEWS, Page 58
Books
Civil Wars In the Soul
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By PICO IYER
</p>
<qt>
<l>TITLE: The Night Manager</l>
<l>AUTHOR: John Le Carre</l>
<l>PUBLISHER: Knopf; 429 Pages; $24</l>
</qt>
<p> THE BOTTOM LINE: Even unresolved Le Carre offers more style
and excitement than most authors at their peak.
</p>
<p> Thirty years ago, at the opening of The Spy Who Came In from
the Cold, the protagonist, Leamas, was defined as a person who
could not quite pass for a London clubman, a "man who was not
quite a gentleman." Now, early in his new book, we are told
that John le Carre's latest alienated loner, Jonathan Pine,
though taken for a gentleman, did not in fact go to "that kind
of school." A pungent reminder that the real wars Le Carre has
been chronicling--the class war in Britain, and the civil
(very civil) war between one side of a man's soul and the other--are in no way affected by the coming down of the Berlin Wall.
Besides, in the very first paragraph of the new book, we see
the Gulf War being followed in a posh Zurich hotel--the very
definition of a safe "neutral" zone--and are reminded that
espionage nature abhors a vacuum: if the cold war is over, a
hot one must be cooked up in its place.
</p>
<p> There are, you might say, at least two kinds of Le Carre admirers:
the official reader, who turns the pages avidly to follow the
byzantine and brilliant interlacing of plots and identities
and places; and the covert reader, who reads between the lines
for Le Carre's searching and intense examinations into the counterfeit
gentleman, and the divided heart of Englishmen. The official
reader responds to the master storyteller whose narratives purr
by with the smooth whoosh of a Bentley; the secret reader finds
him the most interesting English novelist alive for his discussion
of the quest for absolutes in an ambiguous, secular age.
</p>
<p> Both kinds of readers will find plenty to delight them in The
Night Manager. For starters, there is the title character, who
is (as usual) a slippery outsider, a "refined impostor" in search
of a conscience (or a mission at least), and like nearly all
Le Carre protagonists, half German and half English (which is
to say, half romantic and half skeptic). A night manager in
discreet hotels, Pine is, by definition, a "close observer"
of people, a spy--or novelist--without a cause. In this
instance his eye is trained largely on a glamorous slice of
the "En glish leisure class": a jet-setting arms dealer, Dicky
Roper, who is charming enough to be a Cabinet minister; his
young plaything of a mistress; and such attendants as Sandy
Langbourne, a sulky, beautiful, ponytailed lord with a gift
for extermination.
</p>
<p> As the spy enters the enemy's lair, all the master's usual,
unequaled scenes are on display: the minuet between expert interrogator
and expert evader; the battles in London between men of principle
and Old Etonian Iagos; the appearance of a beautiful woman who
offers a way out of the spy's maze of mirrors. Without raising
a sweat, Le Carre propels us from Cairo penthouses to Cornwall
pubs, from Quebecois mining towns to secret islands in the Bahamas,
from Miami to London to Panama, all of them evoked with an insider's
authority.
</p>
<p> Even more impressive, Le Carre is a one-man orchestra of voices.
When "wispy young men of the polo-playing classes" come into
contact with Bahamian villagers, Le Carre catches both notes
perfectly. Famously fluent in the tones of English smooth dissemblers,
he is equally able to conjure up an American bureaucrat saying,
"This is geopolitics, Rex. And what we have to do here is, we
have to be able to go to the Hill and say, `Guys, we accept
the imperatives in this.' " Behind all this is the steady drumbeat
of Roper's worldly defense of his murderous trade: "This isn't
crime. This is politics. No good being high-and-mighty."
</p>
<p> For what gives the book a new and particular force is that it
is powered by a moral rage not only against the idle rich, and
against the silky "espiocrats" of Whitehall and Washington who
flick away men like lint, but most of all against the arms dealers,
who, like spies, have an investment in war and are deserving,
Le Carre suggests, of "a Nuremberg Trials Part Two." At the
heart of the book is a passionate claim that Western governments
are in the lap (and employ) of these mercenaries and drug smugglers,
in a complicated scheme of mutual benefit. In other hands this
might sound like a standard leftist conspiracy theory, but Le
Carre documents so commandingly how Colombians deal cocaine
for guns, and how offshore banks provide the backing, all with
the support of those in power, that his theory gains a high-gloss
plausibility.
</p>
<p> A worldly-wise romanticism, in fact, drives Le Carre. His protagonists
come armed with irony and soft spots, as well as such Bondian
devices as a "subminiature camera got up as a Zippo lighter."
In this case the narrative dwindles into a slightly Bondian
ending. The secret reader may feel that the private demons are
still unresolved, while the official reader may be shocked that
the public devils are still at large. But both of them will
surely agree that by now Le Carre is almost incapable of producing
anything other than a beautifully polished, utterly knowing
and palpitating book. His most wide-screen and well-toned dazzler
("thriller" seems too mild a word) since The Little Drummer
Girl ten years ago, The Night Manager seems sure to be the most
stylish explosion of intelligence of the summer.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>