Splendid. To say it is his best later book is to damn it with faint praise. It is just a darn good example of what Le Carre does so well, writing about the English and the Russians. He lost his way when the Cold War lost its way. Here he is back in that world he understands and loves and it makes all the difference.
I see this book has underwhelmed many, but I fail to see why. Unreservedly recommended.
‘He’s a bastard’ says Oliver at one point. To which the Swiss banker replies:
“So what? We’re all bastards. Some bastards, they don’t even play chess.”