Master of espionage John le Carre dies at 89

John le Carre, spy-turned-velist whose elegant and intricate narratives defined Cold War espion thriller and brought acclaim to a genre critics h once igred, has died. He was 89.

Le Carre's literary ncy, Curtis Brown, said Sunday he died in Cornwall, southwest England on Saturday after a short illness. ncy said his death was t related to COVID-19. His family said he died of pneumonia In classics such as “ Spy Who Came in from Cold,” “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy” and “ Hourable Schoolboy,” Le Carre combined terse but lyrical prose with kind of complexity expected in literary fiction. His books grappled with betrayal, moral compromise and psychological toll of a secret life. In quiet, watchful spymaster George Smiley, he created one of 20th-century fiction's iconic characters — a decent man at heart of a web of deceit.

“John le Carre has passed at of 89. This terrible year has claimed a literary giant and a humanitarian spirit," tweeted velist Stephen King. Margaret Atwood said: “Very sorry to hear this. His Smiley vels are key to understanding mid-20th century.” For le Carre, world of espion was a “metaphor for human condition.” “I'm t part of literary bureaucracy if you like that categorizes everybody: Romantic, Thriller, Serious,” le Carre told Associated Press in 2008. “I just go with what I want to write about and characters. I don't anunce this to myself as a thriller or entertainment.

“I think all that is pretty silly stuff. It's easier for booksellers and critics, but I don't buy that categorization. I mean, what's 'A Tale of Two Cities?' — a thriller?” His or works included “Smiley's People,” “ Russia House,” and, in 2017, Smiley farewell, “A Legacy of Spies.” Many vels were apted for film and television, tably 1965 productions of “Smiley's People' and “Tinker Tailor” featuring Alec Guinness as Smiley.

Le Carre was drawn to espion by an upbringing that was superficially conventional but secretly tumultuous.

Born David John Moore Cornwell in Poole, southwest England on Oct. 19, 1931, he appeared to have a standard upper-middle-class education: private Sherborne School, a year studying German literature at University of Bern, compulsory military service in Austria — where he interrogated Eastern Bloc defectors — and a degree in modern langus at Oxford University. But his ostensibly standard upper-middle-class upbringing was an illusion. His far, Ronnie Cornwell, was a con man who was an associate of gangsters and spent time in jail for insurance fraud. His mor left family when David was 5; he didn't meet her again until he was 21.

It was a childhood of uncertainty and extremes: one minute limousines and champagne, next eviction from family's latest accommodation. It bred insecurity, an acute awareness of gap between surface and reality — and a familiarity with secrecy that would serve him well in his future profession.

“se were very early experiences, actually, of clandestine survival,” le Carre said in 1996. “ whole world was enemy territory.” After university, which was interrupted by his far's bankruptcy, he taught at prestigious boarding school Eton before joining foreign service.

Officially a diplomat, he was in fact a “lowly” operative with domestic intelligence service MI5 —he'd started as a student at Oxford — and n its overseas counterpart MI6, serving in Germany, on Cold War front line, under cover of second secretary at British Embassy.

His first three vels were written while he was a spy, and his employers required him to publish under a pseudonym. He remained “le Carre” for his entire career. He said he chose name — square in French — simply because he liked vaguely mysterious, European sound of it.

“Call For De” appeared in 1961 and “A Murder of Quality” in 1962. n in 1963 came “ Spy Who Came in From Cold,” a tale of an nt forced to carry out one last, risky operation in divided Berlin. It raised one of author's recurring mes: blurring of moral lines that is part and parcel of espion, and difficulty of distinguishing good guys from b. Le Carre said it was written at one of darkest points of Cold War, just after building of Berlin Wall, at a time when he and his colleagues feared nuclear war might be imminent.

“So I wrote a book in great heat which said 'a plague on both your houses,'” le Carre told BBC in 2000.

It was immediately hailed as a classic and allowed him to quit intelligence service to become a full-time writer.

His depictions of life in clubby, grubby, ethically tarnished world of “ Circus” — books' code-name for MI6 — were antisis of Ian Fleming's suave action-hero James Bond, and won le Carre critical respect that eluded Fleming.

(Im: AP)