This more idealistic fervour in le Carré stems, it seems to me, from his years studying German literature in philosophy in Bern and then at Oxford. Like so many of his protagonists (most tellingly Magnus Pym in A Perfect Spy), le Carré is deeply attracted to European idealism. But his beloved British spies are often tasked with identifying and betraying it.
Silverview takes this to its logical but tragic extension, as Proctor slowly and inexorably tracks down his man. But somewhere along the way, in this sad and lonely book, Proctor’s sense of mission stalls, the Suffolk landscape becalms him, the urgency is diluted by a wistful sense of loss. It feels like the great elegiac German writer W.G. Sebald, much referenced in le Carré’s novel, and who lived and worked in East Anglia, begins to haunt the master of conspiracy Le Carré and to question the worth of it all.
Silverview is a slim volume but contained within it is the very kernel of le Carré’s philosophy. It is in a sense a disappointed philosophy – that European Romanticism, for all its glory, created only fascism and totalitarian communism. That both those terrors were threats that needed fighting. But that English romanticism is a fading rose, that the decent Englishman is no longer to be relied upon, and that when push comes to shove, le Carré will always vote with the idealist. For this reason Silverview is a true testament to its author, the greatest espionage writer of the last century.
Beginnings and Endings: A Review of John le Carré's Silverview from David Farr