Spy
Language Hat, for his own nefariously linguistic reasons, points today toward a NYTimes story of a spy for Stalin. Since D did much of his research on the Cold War, it's one of those stories that draws me as well. I love LeCarré's spy novels, in no small part because it is the kind of work I could never do. That level of deception is beyond me. If I lie, it is out of self defense, and I can do that very well. Any other reason, and it all falls apart. I hate manipulating anyone. I have trouble enough with any kind of fiction writing. Lying is just too much work. I have a profound contempt for bad liars, like my inept father. And a hostile fear of the good ones, like the ex. I've lived with dishonest people, they made my stomach hurt.
Reading about them, therefore, fascinates me. I know, for instance, that they are convinced by their own tales. That they are profoundly lonely. That the double existence stretches them out of shape, leaving their lives thinned and scarred. Idealism leads them a merry dance away from honest connection. How does anyone trust, who is so knowingly untrustable?
Spies are simply the most unequivocal and professional of the betrayers. It's been a while since I've had to deal with such a deceptive person. Their faces give them away, when you know what to look for, or rather, what isn't there. LeCarré writes about that certain deadness in the eyes in Secret Pilgrim. Describes it beautifully.
Reading about them, therefore, fascinates me. I know, for instance, that they are convinced by their own tales. That they are profoundly lonely. That the double existence stretches them out of shape, leaving their lives thinned and scarred. Idealism leads them a merry dance away from honest connection. How does anyone trust, who is so knowingly untrustable?
Spies are simply the most unequivocal and professional of the betrayers. It's been a while since I've had to deal with such a deceptive person. Their faces give them away, when you know what to look for, or rather, what isn't there. LeCarré writes about that certain deadness in the eyes in Secret Pilgrim. Describes it beautifully.
Posted by Zhoen on Wednesday, November 12, 2008
6 comments:
(o)
If an amateur (non-Le Carré type) liar lies, he/she hopes it will be a thing of the moment and quickly forgotten. Being forced to resurrect the lie and perhaps embellish it at a later date is what breaks the amateur. Whereas it's meat and drink to the professional and to some types of psychopath. Professional liars lie at work and at home and must have minds like hard disks to keep everything in place. I wonder if you can be taught to lie professionally or whether it's a given at the job interview. Le Carré's work is superior fiction but sometimes Len Deighton's never-excuse, never-explain techniques get the job done better when the moral quagmire becomes unbearable.
I'll have to read some Le Carré, what would you recommend as a first?
I read an autobiography of a spy during WW2. Fascinating stuff...
barrett,
Yes, that makes sense. Mostly I love Le Carré's characters and plots, all so tightly woven.
phil,
Probably Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Although Russia House and Single & Single stand alone, and are both pretty accessible - which is a good thing. His writing is dense, and I have always found him difficult -but worth the effort. Your mileage may vary.
geosomin,
Which one?
(o)
Post a Comment
<< Home