A Legacy of Spies

Written in 2017, this is an interesting sequel to The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, Le Carré's breakout novel published in 1963, at the height of the Cold War.  The Spy Who Came in from the Cold was a masterpiece,  a dark portrayal of the cynical ends-justify-the-means view of the espionage services on both sides of the Cold War.  A Legacy of Spies revisits the events of The Spy Who Came in from the Cold from the perspective of 50 years afterwards: the children of Alec Leamus and Liz Gold (the protagonists of Spy), now grown and deeply embittered, attempt to sue and/or extort the British Secret Service (and especially the very likable Peter Guillam, right-hand junior to George Smiley) for the wrongs done to their parents. 
This backward look is an interesting idea (see Le Carré's piece in The Guardian on how he came to write Spy), and it does effectively highlight some cultural changes in attitudes toward secret services, but the issues at stake are not as powerful as those in almost all of Le Carré's other books and, accordingly,  I did not find it as satisfying. 

Update on A Delicate Truth by John Le Carré

Just re-read a 2013 Le Carré, which I had read and liked when it first came out, but had not been particularly struck by.  But this time, it hit me harder.  One of the prefatory quotes, from Oscar Wilde, was "If one tells the truth, one is sure, sooner or later, to be found out".  And without specific spoilers, the book deals with the aftermath of an operation gone very wrong and briskly covered up.  A key player, in both the operation and the cover up, is Jay Crispin, a trader in mercenaries. Here's an assessment of Crispin by our protagonist, Toby:

And for sure, wrestling with his disgust and anger, and determined as usual to reduce them to a manageable level, he gave due thought to Hannah Arendt's concept of the banality of evil, and launched into a debate with himself about where Crispin fitted into her scheme of things. Was Crispin, in his own perception, merely one of society's faithful servants, obeying market pressures?  Maybe that was how he saw himself, but Toby didn't.  As far as Toby was concerned, Jay Crispin was your normal, rootless, amoral, plausible, half-educated, nicely spoken frozen adolescent in a bespoke suit, with an unappeaseable craving for money, power and respect, regardless of where he got them from. So far, so good. He had met embryonic Crispins in every walk of life and every country where he had served: just never until now one who had made his mark as a trader in small wars.
In a half-hearted effort to find excuses for Crispin, Toby even wondered whether, deep down, the man was just plain stupid. How else to explain the cock-up that was Operation Wildlife? And from there, he wandered off into an argument with Friedrich Schiller's grandiose statement that human stupidity was what the gods fought in vain.  Not so, in Toby's opinion, and no excuse for anybody, whether god or man. What the gods and all reasonable humans fought in vain wasn't stupidity at all. It was sheer, wanton, bloody indifference to anybody's interests but their own.

Inheritance

All my life I had known there was a secret.

What I hadn’t known: the secret was me.

Inheritance, a particularly interesting and thoughtful memoir, was written by Dani Shapiro, a successful novelist, memoirist and professor of creative writing.  Both her parents were Jewish and her ancestors, on her father’s side, were exceptionally distinguished rabbis and leaders of national Orthodox Jewish associations.  Dani spoke Hebrew fluently, having attended a Joseph Schechter Jewish Day School, a prestigious prep school and then Sarah Lawrence, where she was strongly influenced by Grace Paley.  It’s not a terrible spoiler (it's recounted within the first few pages of Inheritance) to say that Dani was literally stunned and disoriented to discover, through incidental DNA testing, that her father, Paul Shapiro, was not her biological father.  With the help of her husband, Michael Meran, a journalist and screenwriter, Dani quickly was able to identify a person who was almost certain to be her biological father. 

The shocking DNA evidence triggers intense self-searching and quests for understanding. How could her parentage have been so estranged from Jewish law and tradition?  Which members of her family (almost all now deceased) knew the secret of her parentage?  How could she herself, blond and blue-eyed, not have known? 

And, finally, what relationships might develop with her new family and how would she be affected by discovering this whole new side of herself?  I highly recommend this most emotional and thoughtful memoir.

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A Memoir from John le Carré

The Pigeon Tunnel - Stories from my Life is a memoir of sorts composed of short chapter-length anecdotes from le Carré’s life that are amusing, head-shaking, chilling, or thought-provoking.  Several explain the origin of particular characters that appear in his books, and some describe hair-raising experiences during his trips to war zones and other exotic locations to research different novels.  For The Night Manager, he visits Panama to see a camp where the CIA trained the Special Forces from several countries, and to meet 54 year old President Endara, atop a Spanish colonial staircase, with his 22 year old mistress, newly turned wife: 

A young woman is crouched at his feet, her shapely rump pressed into designer jeans as she wrestles with a Lego palace she is building with the President’s children.
‘Darling,’ Endara cries down to her, in English for my benefit. ‘See who is here!  You have heard of….’ Et cetera.
Still kneeling, the First Lady looks me cursorily up and down and resumes her building.
‘But darling, of course you have heard of him!’ the President implores her. ‘You have read his wonderful books! We both have!’
Belatedly, the former diplomat in me stirs.
‘Madame President. There is no reason on earth why you should have heard of me. But you have surely heard of Sean Connery, the actor, who was in my recent film?’
Long silence.
‘You are friend of Mr. Connery?’
‘Indeed I am,’ I reply, though I scarcely know him.
‘You are welcome in Panama,’ she says.

 The Pigeon Tunnel is of special interest to le Carré fans, but full of striking stories and insights for any reader!

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Behind the Beautiful Forevers

This exceptional book by Katherine Boo reads like an absorbing, fascinating novel yet is, almost unbelievably, nonfiction.  Boo, a Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter and writer for the New Yorker, lived in Mumbai and delved into the lives of the residents of Annawadi, a small slum beside a lake of sewage, adjacent to a very busy international airport serving Mumbai.

"Everything around us is roses" is how Abdul's younger brother, Mirchi, put it.  "And we're the shit in between."

In an afterward, Boo describes her research, interviewing and filming residents with the help of translators and student interns, for four years, then piecing together this extraordinarily vivid and clear-eyed account of key events in the life of Annawadi, including suicides, a murder, a tragic accident involving horses painted like zebras, and always the crushing power of poverty, inequality and pervasive corruption.

As Abdul and his family had already learned, the police station was not a place where victimhood was redressed and public safety held dear.  It was a hectic bazaar, like many other institutions in Mumbai, and investigating Kalu's death was not a profit generating enterprise."

Boo's aim is to understand how globalization and world economics shape the lives of those at the lower end of the economic scale and her insights are penetrating and empathetic.  This is a beautiful book, though heartbreakingly sad.