Way back when, at the height of the Cold War between the forces of good (The West) and forces of evil (The East), when Germany, especially Berlin, was still considered a combination of no-man's- and everyone-for-themselves land, British writer David Cornwall adopted the name John Le Carré and changed the face of the spy novel.

He had the temerity to suggest that just maybe our guys weren't all heroes and their guys weren't all villains. Then there were his heroes; oh sure there were some rough and tumble field agents and the like, but even they were a far cry from James Bond and his exploding women and sexy cigarette holder. (Or is that the other way 'round?) Nary an Alfa Romeo or handgun to be seen and they never hung out in the casinos of the world playing blackjack or baccarat.

But it was his re-creation of the British Intelligence Service as the old boys' network that it was — from faded leather elbow patches on the sweater jackets worn by the don-like heads of department, the weak tea served at meetings, the bad plumbing in the buildings, and of course the deep cover spy (or mole, don't you know old chap) — that was so captivating.

In the hangover of Philby, Burgess, and MacLean, the original three Moscow agents discovered working for British Intelligence, and the subsequent revelations about Sir Anthony Blunt (The Queen's art historian for pity's sake) Le Carré's triad of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier…Spy, The Honourable Schoolboy, and Smiley's People so blurred the lines between reality and fiction that when later adapted for television and George Smiley was recreated by Alec Guiness, I'm sure most people couldn't help but picture Sir Alec as the face of British Intelligence for years after.

The end of the Cold War didn't mean an end to spying and it didn't bring a stop to Mr. Le Carré's writing. The tenor of some of the writing changed, becoming more introspective, especially as the lines between "good" and "bad" grew so faint as to be almost non-existent. When today's staunchest ally could be tomorrow's deadliest enemy for reasons that weren't really pertinent to the investigation (best just get on with it old son, leave the brain work to the wallah wallahs) the ability to walk backwards while looking like you were walking straight ahead became essential.

As the world changed, so did Le Carré's books and characters to reflect that changing nature. No longer did the ubiquitous Oxford or Cambridge dons populate the backroom meetings or clandestine drops. Accents from around the world began to make appearances as he kept pace with the polyglot nature of the shifting axis of power. With each new book, where would Le Carré's burgeoning social conscience take him? That was the question a reader asked.