What a writer Le Carre was. Silverview was his last novel, published posthumously. Is it up there with his best? No, but the prose is so effortless to read; those lovely descriptions, the deliberately confusing thoughts, the misdirection. Loved it.
The story revolves around Julian who has left his lucrative role in the City to set up an independent bookshop in a small coastal town. A mysterious character arrives one day, and the plot thickens as they say. It’s a book in which not a lot happens, and yet still does. Throughout I found it gripping. The England it evokes is somehow nostalgic even without having attended Oxbridge or served in MI6.
Le Carre’s ability to conjure the physical character of people’s small movements, with very simple phrases is remarkable. Multiple times I caught myself with a vivid recognition of a gesture, and the emotions and thoughts driving it. Brilliant stuff, I gobbled this up over a couple of wintery days.
