Silverview is the last novel John le Carré (David Cornwell) completed before his death in December of 2020. It was just released in the US by Viking Penguin. The hardcover edition includes an Afterword by the author’s son Nick Cornwell, who is a writer himself using the name Nick Harkaway.
As my friends and fans know, I’m a longtime admirer of le Carré, and I believe that, to rate him as “The premier spy novelist of our time. Perhaps of all time” (Time), is an underestimation. In his novels, the spy story is a metaphor and a model for not only the geopolitical strife between nations but also the loyalties and betrayals between human beings – in their most intimate and personal transactions. I’d say William Boyd’s comment in The New Statesman comes closer: “We should see him as our contemporary Dickens.”
Two recurring themes in le Carré are that humans almost always betray their loved ones, and skilled spies (like readers) must be obsessively attentive close observers. By strewing hints, clues, and foreshadowing in narratives rich in dazzling but often extraneous detail, he teaches you not only how spies think but also how to read with critical intelligence, especially between the lines.
I’ll risk asserting that fans of le Carré will find nothing new in Silverview. But consider this a feature and not a flaw. If you’ve read and paid close attention to his other novels, you will be quick to recognize the suspicious cover stories, the simple and seemingly innocent methods of exchanging word codes and documents, and – at the core of all of it – the ways double agents double back on their professed loyalties, at the same time serving and betraying their countries, while twisting their personal lives and loves inside out.
As I say, recognizing these plot elements on first appearance may give you the satisfaction that you’ve aced the course at Sarratt, the Circus spy academy. Perhaps then you are ready to recognize, face up to, and deal with the loyalties and betrayals in your own life. I guarantee you will pay closer attention to what other authors are trying to express.
All this said, it will come as no surprise that I respectfully disagree with Nick Cornwell’s assessment of this book:
“… Silverview does something that no other le Carré novel ever has. It shows a service fragmented: filled with its own political factions, not always kind to those it should cherish, not always very effective or alert, and ultimately not sure, any more, that it can justify itself.”
I beg to differ. The close observer knows that John le Carré has been saying this all along.