Graham Greene’s 1978 novel The Human Factor is a gripping and believable story about spies without gunfire and hectic action, but plenty of suspense, tension, intrigue and perfect characterisation.
Maurice Castle is an aging agent in MI6, working in the African section with a younger man, Davis. His new boss is Daintry who has been brought in to review various sections as a leak is suspected. Castle was previously deployed in apartheid South Africa where he fell in love with one of his black agents, Sarah. When his relationship was about to become an embarrassment he fled with her, aided by local Communist Carson. Now working in London, Castle is married to Sarah and has adopted her young boy fathered by another.
Gradually, as the investigation into the supposed leak ensues, suspicions fall upon young Davis… It would be unreasonable to reveal more.
The sleight-of-hand of the people involved, such as C himself, Sir John Hargreaves, and the firm’s creepy doctor Percival provide suspense and tension. The arrival of Cornelius Muller, a powerful man in South Africa’s BOSS, assigned to liaise with Castle on the secret operation Uncle Remus adds drama, since Muller had known Castle in South Africa. Loyalties are questioned; everything is not what it seems; and the morality of Castle’s seniors are decidedly dubious. All the characters are rounded, and seemingly flawed – that is, very human.
Intriguingly, Davis, a tippler, tends to mix his whiskies, notably White Horse and Johnnie Walker: ‘You know, this blend of mine tastes quite good. I shall call it a White Walker. There might be a fortune in the idea – you could advertise it with the picture of a beautiful ghost…’(p66) I wonder if George R. R. Martin stumbled on that moniker when creating his Game of Thrones (1996)?
Greene wanted to get away from the violence and action depicted in popular espionage fiction; in his experience the real thing was more down-to-earth, though doubtless treacherous, and slightly sleazy. After attending a funeral, Daintry has a drink or two with a few people he’d met at Sir John’s house party. Daintry is quizzed about his work: ‘one of those hush-hush boys. James Bond and all that.’ Another states ‘I never could read those books by Ian.’ Another reckons the books were ‘too sexy for me. Exaggerated’ (p165).
This is a book about sacrifice, disillusionment, and love. Greene’s eye for detail, the telling mannerisms, and the secret world’s manipulation of people are laid bare, uncomfortably so. This is as good as any John Le CarrĂ© novel.
Editorial note
We writers are advised not to use character names that begin with the same letter or seem or sound similar. I can’t
see why Greene was fixated on similarities of names: Castle and Carson. Then
there was another ‘c’ – Cynthia, the secretary Davis pines for. Not that it affected the story at all. So much for advice to writers, hm?
