Dumpy and drab, described by his unfaithful wife as “breathtakingly ordinary,” the British master spy George Smiley still managed to become one of modern fiction’s most unforgettable characters. The University of Oxford graduate hunted moles and tried to outwit his Russian counterpart, Karla, through some of the 20th century’s most famous spy novels.
Now he has come back home: Researchers will be able to trace the evolution of Smiley through the drafts of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and other works by his creator, John le Carré, because the author has given his literary archive to Oxford’s Bodleian Library, the university has just announced.
John le Carré is the pen name of the novelist David Cornwell, an ex-spy and Oxford graduate himself. Over a 50-year career, he has used the cloak-and-dagger—or mackintosh-and-pistol—genre to document the mind-set and casualties of the Cold War and subsequent geopolitical upheavals. He has written 22 novels, among them The Spy Who Came In From the Cold, The Tailor of Panama, and The Constant Gardener as well as the novels that put Smiley at the heart of the action.
“I am delighted to be able to do this,” Mr. le Carré said in a handwritten note whose contents were released with the official announcement. “Oxford was Smiley’s spiritual home, as it is mine. And while I have the greatest respect for American universities, the Bodleian is where I shall most happily rest.”
Eighty-five archive boxes of le Carré material have arrived at the library, according to Richard Ovenden, the keeper of special collections and associate director. Highlights include manuscripts and typescripts of the major novels. “What’s still to come are his extensive correspondence, the materials relating to the adaptation of his work in television and particularly the film industry, personal family papers,” he said.
Mr. le Carré was not available for interviews—his agent said he was busy working on a novel—but Mr. Ovenden spoke with The Chronicle about the gift. The university has been “particularly keen” to acquire the papers of prominent modern writers who are Oxford graduates, he said. “I wrote to John le Carré and suggested that he might like to consider the Bodleian as a home for his archive at some point in the future, and he wrote back and suggested that he’d very much like to place it here in Oxford. And we were delighted to accept.”
The Bodleian sometimes purchases archives, but Mr. le Carré accepted no money in return for his papers, Mr. Ovenden said. He added that the university was especially grateful for the author’s generosity given how stretched its resources are in the current economic climate.
The archive reveals a good deal about the author’s working habits. Mr. le Carré prefers to write longhand, not on a computer, and he is a meticulous reviser throughout the writing and editing process, Mr. Ovenden said. “One of the things you find from his papers is just how incredibly industrious he is,” the keeper said. “He’s making changes right up to very close to publication.”
The Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy materials alone take up 17 boxes and contain, among other things, a record of the evolution of the novel’s title; originally it was called “The Autumn of George Smiley.” One standout is a draft section, written in blue ink on salmon-pink paper, in which the author works to flesh out Smiley. “His legs were short, his gait anything but agile, his dress sober,” Mr. le Carré has written in the left-hand margin. “His overcoat in particular was of that black, loose weave which is designed to attract and retain the wet.”
Because of the author’s penchant for writing by hand, the archive contains little born-digital material. “He works primarily ink on paper,” Mr. Ovenden said. “But there is obviously correspondence that happens electronically. We’re certainly hoping and very much ready to receive born-digital material. But David doesn’t work on a word processor.”
The archive will be freely available to researchers, Mr. Ovenden said; Mr. le Carré has placed no restrictions on access to it. The materials also arrived in good order. “John le Carré and his wife, who is a publisher, had done a lot of work preparing” the collection, according to the keeper. “That makes our job of boxing, rehousing, and listing it fairly easy.” He added that the Bodleian expects to begin making it available to researchers “in just a few months’ time,” once the cataloging is complete and there’s a finding aid in place.
Mr. le Carré's papers will join those of Alan Bennett, Bruce Chatwin, Philip Larkin, and other British literary lights. And, Mr. Ovenden added, “we’ll be making a couple of major announcements in the next couple of months,” hinting that the Bodleian’s modern British literary holdings will soon expand even further.
The le Carré archives are also likely to grow. Mr. le Carré, who turns 80 this year, is an active writer, so the Bodleian stands to receive more manuscripts down the road. Mr. Ovenden thinks that the archive carries historical as well as literary significance. “His novels are a commentary, on one level, on global politics from the 1950s to the present day,” he said. “One of the extraordinary things about John le Carré is that he continues to write novels about bang-up-to-date contemporary issues.”
In a statement released by the university, the journalist Timothy Garton Ash, a professor of European studies at Oxford, went even further. “John le Carré's writing is not just a key to understanding the history of the Cold War,” he said. “It is itself a vital and influential part of that history. To have this archive in the Bodleian is a major enrichment of Oxford’s unique collection of primary sources for the study of contemporary history.”
What would the author himself think of that? A note on his official Web site doesn’t offer many clues. “I live on a Cornish cliff and hate cities,” the master spy-writer says. “I write and walk and swim and drink.”
