Silverview, by John Le Carré.
Former high-flying
City man Julian Lawndsley has recently renounced his ‘heavy metal’ job (moving
other people’s money around) and, in a concerted attempt to lead a completely
different life, has started a boutique bookshop in an East Anglian tourist town. It doesn’t take him long to realise that
there is much more involved in running such a shop than he first envisaged, and
practical advice – any advice is
welcome, even from an elderly, charming Polish gentleman who mysteriously
appears at closing time on several different occasions ‘just for a chat’ about
books in general, but with some surprisingly sound suggestions about opening up
his basement as a ‘Republic of Literature’, complete with wi-fi access to the
world’s great publications – along with hard copies, of course. Yes, Edward Avon is fast becoming his first
friend in his new environment, and when Julian receives an unexpected dinner
invitation from Edward’s terminally ill wife to join the family at Silverview,
the nearest thing the town has to a mansion, he feels that socially at least,
he has arrived!
But the opposite
is true: the dinner is inexpertly served
by Lily, the couple’s daughter, herself more a force of nature than an observer
of social etiquette, and the conversation between husband and wife is fraught
with barely-concealed animosity, causing Julian to make his excuses at the
first decent opportunity – only to be joined on the way home by Lily, who needs
a friend. And only a friend, for
now. Whilst not wanting to be involved
in anyone’s family dramas it doesn’t take long to discover that Edward is many
things to many people, that his dying wife belonged to MI5, and that she
suspects Edward of passing along British Intelligence to Britain’s enemies.
Indeed, Julian was
asked by Edward to be the conveyor of a letter to a ‘dear friend’ when he
travelled to London on business for the day – no problem, Edward. Happy to help. Until he receives a visit from MI5’s Mr
Proctor, detailing the treasonous nature of his assistance, and the various ways in which he could redeem himself in the eyes of his country.
In his last
posthumously published novel, John Le Carré demonstrates yet again why he has always been the peerless master
of Spy fiction, not least for his matchless characterisations, wonderful
dialogue – and dialects, but the cleverness and intricacy of his plotting. He knows definitely whereof he speaks, but
sadly will speak to us no more. I am
sad. FIVE STARS.
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