I'm going to blame this one on Sherlock. Benedict Cumberbatch was in the recent remake of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, which piqued my interest in le Carre. I should note, however, that in general I have absolutely no interest in spy novels. Which should have been a warning to me. There are whole genres and authors that I simply have no interest in, and when I do read them (to see what the hullabaloo is all about, usually), I'm disappointed. But I had high hopes, being an eternal optimist.Most of this book was completely opaque to me. I kept wondering how they got from point A to point B - not locations, but ideas or assumptions or conclusions. I just didn't understand it. This made me feel stupid, which I hate. I mean, it's one thing to read Brian Greene and not understand fully. Quantum physics is difficult for most people. But popular fiction? Shouldn't it be at least mostly accessible?
After a third of the book I realized that I truly didn't care about the characters or the story, and that I was reading primarily so that I could say that I've read le Carre. And now I can. Done.
