I’ve worked in History and museums for the better part of 20 years …
So, it was natural my cousin sent someone to me when they found something odd while removing an old chimney in an old house in Nebraska. “What is it?” they asked. It was a little card with some words and letters and numbers printed on it. The longer I looked, the less sense it made. I had no idea. In fact, it’s been a few years since they asked, and I still have no idea.
Running across this photo again I’d kept for reference, I got back in touch with the finder and asked if he had any answers — Still no.
I’d lost any details I’d had, so he kindly sent me more info: The card is 2″ wide, 3.5″ tall and totally blank on the back. Much smaller than I assumed it would be.
With an ornamental border it reads:
a 10 G. Robbins Miss Harrison, J. F. Hull Gracie Battis M
John le Carré (David Cornwell) says that every one of his books was titled The Pigeon Tunnel at some point in the early stages. He finally nails a book worthy of the title with this memoir of his writing life, his time working for British Intelligence, and between the lines, a sense of the man behind the stories of espionage and intrigue.
Le Carré tells stories about meeting Arafat, about fellow author and intelligence operative Graham Greene, and letting Robert Redford borrow his Swiss ski chalet, which he’d built with the proceeds of his first smash hit book The Spy Who Came in from the Cold… But le Carré doesn’t splay these stories before readers, pushing his own life before us like a wordy, mercenary paparazzi, exploiting his limelight-adjacent life. He also comes across as a man trying to sort things out, but barely mentions marriages and children. Perhaps out of respect for their privacy, or perhaps because they’ve been covered in past interviews. I don’t know, but for me, it’s a curious absence.
Some stories are well-polished yarns le Carré has no doubt shared for many years over drinks, at readings, or over dinner. Like the time he was with Joseph Brodsky when he found out he won the Nobel Prize. Or being summoned by Margaret Thatcher to Number 10.
Then there are the stories of his father. Ronnie Cornwell, le Carré’s father, was a con man of the very highest order. A few of his schemes and cons are outlined here by le Carré, but again, as a man trying to make heads or tails of what information he’s been able to gather, and willing to share. You can almost see him shaking his head throughout the retelling. However, it does give readers a glimpse into how the son of con-man would be drawn into the life of intelligence.
John le Carré speaking at the German Embassy in London in June 2017.
It’s an excellent book. You won’t find much of “the writer’s life” type of musings, but I doubt many readers will be all that interested in that. No, over his long and productive life, I get a sense that le Carré has been just as busy managing his intellectual property rights, film rights, and fighting off lawsuits and inquiries to make the actual writing of fiction a wonderful respite when he’s able to get down to it. I recommend Pigeon Tunnelif you’re interested in his books, Cold War stories, or Hollywood.
And about that title. After reading his explanation, which takes readers along on a gambling escapade in Monte Carlo, I can see just about any one of his books carrying the title, and it’s meaning, very well. It’s perhaps the aptest metaphor I’ve read in a very long time for not only the life of people working in intelligence but also for writers. I don’t think Le Carré sat on the title all these years because he kept finding titles that suited his novels better. I think he knew it was a title with only one story worthy of it: His own.
About the Author: Benjamin L. Clark writes and works as a museum curator.
