At the back of the Weston Library, in a small room off to one side, a stunning wealth of material is laid out in neatly organised cabinets and containers. Starting with David Cornwell’s childhood (John le Carré was his pen name) the visitor is guided through each of the great man’s novels, before confronting his love life, passion for art, and his broader views on the post-Cold War political climate. The exhibition is detailed enough to be of interest even to le Carré superfans (containing a wealth of letters, plots and plans written out in le Carré’s loopy, sprawling hand), but it is not overwhelming. The neat presentation of items, and select few displays, gets each point across without drowning the visitor.
The exhibition is well ordered; the first wall takes you through the chronological order of le Carré’s key novels. It explores the author’s contribution to the literary canon of spy novels, with Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy one of the first accurate depictions of espionage and life in MI5. A sort of realist’s reply to James Bond, the exhibition emphasises that le Carré’s aim was to present a much more truthful image of what working in the Secret Service was like. The exhibition gave insight, not only into this aspect of le Carré’s life, but also into the impact he has left on the literary world, championing realism in an age where the disillusionment had led to increasing surrealism and absurdist work.
However, not all of le Carré’s novels were based on his own experience in MI5. I must admit I had only known him for his spy novels, but, in fact, I learned le Carré produced a wealth of material combating many different forms of illegal, underground activity. From The Night Manager, where le Carré investigates illegal arms smuggling, to The Constant Gardener, where he exposes the major lack of ethics in medical trials in the Global South, this exhibition highlights le Carré’s incredible contribution to raising awareness on some of the biggest criminal enterprises.
The main takeaway was just how much work went into each of le Carré’s novels. Every cabinet was stuffed. There were photos of le Carré’s travels to Israel or Hong Kong for location research. His records of interviews with individuals such as Mai Mai, a colonel in the Democratic Republic of Congo militia, Frederico Vardese, a professor of criminology, or Israeli journalist Yuval Eliza, were spread across the desks, revealing just how invested le Carré was in discovering the real inner workings of whatever criminal world he was delving into next. Naturally, copious character notes, profiles, and maps fit in wherever there was space left, demonstrating the painstaking effort the author went to in visualising the exact appearance of each character, precise locations, and intricate timelines. A particularly heartwarming source was an email typed to Herr Bührer, the manager of the Bellevue Palace Hotel, asking for permission to depict the real hotel and descriptive details in Our Kind of Traitor.
However, the exhibition did not just explore le Carré’s literary life. In the middle of the room and down the second wall, tables and cabinets delved into his hobbies, interests and personal life. His passion for illustration resulted in several cabinets dedicated to the author’s doodles and caricatures. Le Carré’s humorous satire of the Oxford Union, both in illustrative and literary form, made for very amusing reading. However, the exhibition also pointed to the importance of this style for the rest of his career. Satire of the Union developed into satire of the hypocritical West and its criminal underworld. Indeed, the exhibition hinted that this satire might have stemmed from a deeper anguish over the unremarked fall out of the Cold War. It reminded me of how each and every one of an author’s life experiences can contribute to the novelist that they turn about to be.
A particularly remarkable feature of the exhibition were several interview recordings conducted with le Carré himself, that played out at the press of a button. These recordings lifted the exhibition: positioned about half way around the room, they broke up and diversified the forms of media visitors could interact with. Allowing the visitors to mix reading, watching, and listening, I felt, greatly improved the depth of interest, and the fact these recordings played out-loud to the whole room had a powerful impact. John le Carré’s voice echoing around a room filled with his life’s work, movingly tied his ambitions, hopes and achievements together.
Whether you are a John le Carré fan, want to get an insight into some of the dark, gritty, underworld networks that govern the globe, or are interested in how an author composes a novel, this moving, inspiring, and yet infinitely human exhibition is for you, and it’s free!
Tradecraft is on at the Weston Library until the 6 April 2026
