There were some who wondered whether John le Carré would still have a career after the fall of the Berlin Wall and disintegration of the Eastern Bloc. The quintessential master of the spy novel, who presented that most rare of creatures (the idealist espionage agent), might have seemed out of step where the great idealist war between communism and capitalism collapsed and spies seemed to betray their countries for little more personal gain. Fortunately for us, le Carré continues to entertain and probe while the mere espionage thriller casts about for a shelf-life beyond the first read or multiplex screening. The Mission Song is the latest in a long line stories that will prove to endure better following the Cold War than some foreign policies.

The story is told in the first person by one Bruno Salvador (known throughout the book as “Salvo”). As with most such accounts, the events related are in the past sometimes racing toward the present sometimes concluding in a more recent past as if a memoir. Often this it is fairly easy to see where in time such accounts end, but le Carré (or Salvador) will not let us off so easily. Salvador speaks with a vaguely confessional tone leaving us until the very end wondering to who he is writing—certainly not any of us unless we are indeed very clever and place ourselves into that almost unspoken character. This particular twist is quite necessary because even if one has never read le Carré, the first few pages are enough to tell the reader that this story will end in tears. Indeed, Salvo assumes his reader knows this already. One is then almost impelled with rereading The Mission Song in light of what has been gained from that last crucial bit of knowledge.

Salvo, as with so many of le Carré’s characters, is an innocent nurtured and torn between two worlds. He is the son of an Irish Franciscan missionary and a Congolese woman. He was raised as a Mission orphan in what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo and later “adopted” by his father. Upon his father’s death, Salvo is shipped to England. If one finds echoes of The Perfect Spy, it is because Salvo is so completely British and so entirely Congolese. It is in England that it becomes evident that one the greatest gifts Salvo’s father gives him is an uncanny knack for languages, especially minority African languages. Salvo’s ability to read the nuance of language also gives a remarkable ability to gauge the speakers themselves. Salvo’s readings of those around him become our interpretations as well. So utterly believable are his judgments that when they are betrayed, the reader is as well. Where and how such acumen is lead astray is something I will leave you to decide.

Salvo’s skill as a top flight interpreter eventually leads him to work at a department the Home Office where he is assigned to interpret intercepted conversations. It is in this connection that his office contracts him out (for purposes of deniability) to third party with presumed interests in negotiating a contract to rebuild his beloved Congo.

By his own admission, Salvo is impulsive. If he weren’t there would almost be no story. Virtually every discovery he makes, every complication in his life, every mistake anyone one else would see a mile off, is due to his impulsive intuition and response. Sometimes it is almost enough to make the reader to achingly implore Salvo not to do what you are convinced he will do. Salvo does surprise however, with consequence that are often worse than one might have anticipated.

Le Carré’s is always a pleasure to read. Even though it takes a good third of the book for things to start heating up, the sheer pleasure in moving through the ground work makes the stillness of it all the calm before the storm. When things do start cracking, however, the pace is relentless, catching the reader off guard in the end and wishing for it all to go on.

Jimm Wetherbee

If The Mission Song looks good, here are some other interesting Baker and Taylor Books. . .

• The Afghan by Frederick Forsyth.
  Call Number:PR6056.O699 A69 2006b
• Imperium, by Robert Harris.
  Call Number: PR6058.A69147 I47 2006
• The Innocent Man, by John Grisham
  Call Number: KF224.W5535 G75 2006

Updated August 14, 2008