San Diego Union-Tribune (Sunday)
Local novelist Christopher Reich pays tribute to John le Carré
No author had so great an influence on my life, as a reader, as an aspiring writer, and for a short while — when I knew him as ‘David’ — as a friend and correspondent
When Encinitas-based bestselling author Christopher Reich heard about the passing of John le Carré, he felt compelled to write an appreciation of the spy thriller master, who died Dec. 12. He shared his thoughts with the Uniontribune.
John le Carré passed away last weekend, age 89, and writing to the end. No author had so great an influence on my life, as a reader, as an aspiring writer, and for a short while — when I knew him as “David” — as a friend and correspondent.
It’s difficult to express how much his work meant to me. For a time, it was everything. No one starts their reading life picking up “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy” or “The Spy Who Came in From the Cold.” Back then, if you loved spy stories and espionage, you began with Alistair Maclean, moved up to Robert Ludlum, then Frederick Forsyth and Len Deighton. Only then, were you ready for le Carré. I read them all, most twice, some more.
It was to his books I turned when for some reason at the age of 32, I decided to pursue a career as a novelist. At that point, I’d never written a short story, let alone a full-length work. No matter. I had a great teacher close at hand. I read and reread the Smiley novels, and my favorite to this day, if for personal reasons, “The Night Manager.” I listened to le Carré read his books on tape. He is an unparalleled narrator. What more did I need to set off?
Fast-forward three years to the heady days after I sold my first manuscript to Delacorte Press. My editors, Leslie Schnur and Jacqueline Miller, offered lavish praise, then got down to the job. Their first query concerned the “voice” of the protagonist, Nick Neumann. They wanted to make sure he was, as portrayed, a Californian, a former Marine, and ... really an American. I was confused. “Of course, he’s American,” I said. “Why do you ask?” Then Leslie said, “Because he talks like John le f-’ing Carré!” You see, I’d listened to le Carré narrating his books for so long that every morning when I sat down to work, his voice was still in my head.
What more is there to say? That John le Carré was one of the greatest writers of the 20th century, and, without discussion, the finest writer of espionage. That he influenced not one, not two, but three generations of writers. That his work fundamentally altered the world’s view of spycraft, mostly the human costs associated with it.
I do have something to add. He was a wonderful, warm, generous human being. I met him once. It was a year after the publication and grand success of “Numbered Account.” I was visiting Zurich, where I’d worked as a banker for UBS in the late 1980s. To celebrate our return, my wife and I, with our 2-year old daughter, stayed at the Hotel Dolder Grand, or “The Meister Palace,” as le Carré loosely disguised it in “The Night Manager.” Before I go further, let me add that I happened to know the hotel manager at the time, Henry Hunold, and Henry had told me that le Carré, or “Mr. Cornwell,” stayed there frequently, often with his good friend, Alec Guinness. So ... I was on the lookout.
And then it happened. I was in the lobby speaking to the concierge when I heard a voice behind me ask for a copy of the Herald Tribune. That voice. I froze. It was him. More than a teacher. More than an idol. “John le f-’ing Carré” was standing 10 feet behind me. Slowly, I turned around. There he was at the kiosk. My ears had not misinformed me.
To this day, I congratulate myself for not running over and physically accosting him. Instead I wrote him a note asking if we might meet for coffee or a drink and included a copy of my paperback, which, of course, I’d packed with me. An hour later, a letter was slipped under our door. I have never forgotten the words. “Dear Mr. Reich, Of course, I know who you are. My publisher sent me a copy of ‘Numbered Account’ in the latest fevered writings of my newest saying I absolutely must read it. Jane and I would love to have a drink later this evening. Does 6:30 work? Yours, David.”
It did. We had drinks — several, then breakfast the next morning. Am I allowed to say that the man who I had held in the highest esteem was, in fact, “a great guy,” funny as hell, the best storyteller, charming, and ... get this, humble? He was all of those and more.
Today, I’m 59. At some point over the years, the hero worship wore off. But last Saturday night, when I heard the news of his death, it all came back rushing back. To the world, a legend had passed. To me, however, he was a god, and gods never die.
Reich, who lives in Encinitas, is a bestselling author whose latest installment in the adventures of Simon Riske, “The Palace,” was published Aug. 4.