The Little Drummer Girl


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The Little Drummer Girl

John le Carre fans will see a new adaptation of one of his spy novels when "The Little Drummer Girl" hits TV screens this month but the British author said there. Die Libelle. Spionageroman. = The Little Drummer Girl on encomb.eu *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Die Libelle. Spionageroman. = The Little. Die Libelle, im Original The Little Drummer Girl, ist eine britisch-US-​amerikanische Fernsehserie der Fernsehsender BBC One und AMC, die gemeinsam mit der.

The Little Drummer Girl Alles zur Serie The Little Drummer Girl

Charlie, eine junge Schauspielerin, trifft in Griechenland auf einen mysteriösen Fremden, der sie in eine Spionageoperation hineinzieht, während der Geheimdienstchef Kurtz die Täter eines Bombenanschlags in Deutschland aufspürt. Die Libelle, im Original The Little Drummer Girl, ist eine britisch-US-​amerikanische Fernsehserie der Fernsehsender BBC One und AMC, die gemeinsam mit der. Die Libelle ist der Titel der deutschen Übersetzung des Romans The Little Drummer Girl des britischen Schriftstellers John le Carré aus dem Jahr The Little Drummer Girl (TV Series ) cast and crew credits, including actors, actresses, directors, writers and more. The Little Drummer Girl: Now a BBC series Penguin Modern Classics: Amazon.​de: Carré, John le: Fremdsprachige Bücher. the critically acclaimed team who brought you THE NIGHT MANAGER, starring BIG LITTLE LIES' Alexander Sarsgard and LADY MACBETH's Florence Pugh. Die Libelle. Spionageroman. = The Little Drummer Girl on encomb.eu *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Die Libelle. Spionageroman. = The Little.

The Little Drummer Girl

The Little Drummer Girl: Now a BBC series Penguin Modern Classics: Amazon.​de: Carré, John le: Fremdsprachige Bücher. Die Libelle. Spionageroman. = The Little Drummer Girl on encomb.eu *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Die Libelle. Spionageroman. = The Little. Englisch-Deutsch-Übersetzungen für The Little Drummer Girl [John le Carré] im Online-Wörterbuch encomb.eu (Deutschwörterbuch).

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Noah Gavron 3 episodes, Charif Ghattas Waiter uncredited 1 episode, Robert Ryan Schwilli 6 episodes, Clare Holman Edit The Little Drummer Girl Border Official 1 episode, Gabriel Fineberg 1 episode, Sandra Khouria Camp Trainer 1 episode, Student uncredited 1 episode, KG, Alle Rechte vorbehalten. Share this page:. Anna Witgen 3 episodes, Film Scream Beyer Oded 2 episodes, John le Carre fans will see a new adaptation of one of his spy novels when "The Little Drummer Girl" hits TV screens this month but the British author said there. Englisch-Deutsch-Übersetzungen für The Little Drummer Girl [John le Carré] im Online-Wörterbuch encomb.eu (Deutschwörterbuch).

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Rate This. Episode Guide. A Palestinian assassin is targeting prominent Israelis. An English actress is recruited by the Israelis to infiltrate the assassin's terrorist cell.

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Edit Cast Series cast summary: Daniel Litman Daniel 6 episodes, Florence Pugh Gadi Becker 6 episodes, Simona Brown Rachel 6 episodes, Gennady Fleyscher Schwilli 6 episodes, Clare Holman Miss Bach 6 episodes, Michael Moshonov Shimon Litvak 6 episodes, Kate Sumpter Rose 6 episodes, Alessandro Piavani Mario Rossino 5 episodes, Lubna Azabal Fatmeh Al-Khadar 4 episodes, Amir Khoury Tayeh 3 episodes, Shlomo Bar-Aba Confirmed by both parties.

They wrote it down without comment: Keep her to himself. Here, like a mystery train that abruptly vanishes from the track, the passage of events stopped.

The girl Elke, with Wolf gallantly in support, was whisked back to Bonn and knew no Katrin. Investigations into Elke's social life were launched, but they would take time.

Her mother had sent no suitcase, nor would she have dreamed of doing so -- she disapproved of her daughter's low taste in music, she told the Swedish police, and would not think to encourage it.

Wolf returned disconsolately to his unit, and was subjected to wearying but directionless questioning by military security. No driver came forward, whether of a taxi or a private car, though he was paged all over Germany by police and press, and offered, in absentia, great sums of money for his story.

No suitable traveller from Sweden or anywhere else could be traced through the passenger lists, computers, and memory-storage systems at any German airport, let alone Cologne.

He could not remember what shoes the girl had on, or whether she wore lipstick, or scent, or mascara, or whether her hair had looked bleached or could have been a wig.

How should he, he implied -- he who was by training an economist and in all other respects a shambling, connubial, warm-hearted fellow whose only real interest outside Israel and his family was Brahms -- how should he know about women's hair dye?

Yes, he remembered, she had good legs and a very white neck. Long sleeves, yes, or he would have noticed her arms. Yes, a petticoat or something, or he would have seen the shape of her body back-lit by the outside sunlight.

A bra? Live models were dressed up for him. He must have looked at a hundred different blue dresses sent in from warehouses up and down Germany, but he could not remember for the life of him whether the dress had collar and cuffs of a different colour; and not all his spiritual torment could improve his memory.

The more they asked him the more he forgot. The usual chance witnesses confirmed parts of his story but added nothing of substance.

The police patrols had missed the incident completely, and probably the planting of the bomb was timed that way. The suitcase could have been one of twenty brands.

The car or taxi was an Opel or it was a Ford; it was grey, it was not very clean, neither new nor old. A Bonn registration; no, it was from Siegburg.

Yes, a taxi sign on the roof. No, it was a sunshine roof, and someone had heard music issuing, what programme was not established. Yes, a radio aerial.

No, none. The driver was male Caucasian but could be a Turk. The Turks had done it. He was clean-shaven, had a moustache, was dark-haired.

No, blond. Slight build, could be a woman in disguise. Somebody was sure there had been a small chimney-sweep dangling in the back window.

Or it could have been a sticker. Yes, a sticker. Somebody said the driver wore an anorak. Or it could have been a pullover.

At this point of stalemate, the Israeli team seemed to go into a kind of collective coma. A lethargy overcame them; they arrived late and left early and spent a lot of time at their Embassy, where they appeared to be receiving new instructions.

The days passed and Alexis decided they were waiting for something. Marking time but excited somehow. Urgent but becalmed, the way Alexis himself felt far too often.

He had an uncommonly good eye for seeing such things far ahead of his colleagues. When it came to empathising with Jews, he believed that he lived in a kind of vacuum of excellence.

On the third day, a broad-faced older man calling himself Schulmann joined their team, accompanied by a very thin sidekick half his age.

Alexis likened them to a Jewish Caesar and his Cassius. The arrival of Schulmann and his assistant provided the good Alexis with some rare relief from the controlled fury of his own investigation, and from the tiresomeness of being dogged everywhere by the Silesian policeman, whose manner was beginning to resemble more that of a successor than an assistant.

The first thing he observed about Schulmann was that he immediately raised the temperature of the Israeli team. Till Schulmann came, the six men had had an air of incompleteness about them.

They had been polite, they had drunk no alcohol, they had patiently spread their nets and preserved among themselves the dark-eyed Oriental cohesion of a fighting unit.

Their self-control was discomfiting to those who did not share it, and when, over a quick lunch in the canteen, the ponderous Silesian chose to make jokes about kosher food and patronise them about the beauties of their homeland, allowing himself in passing a grossly insulting reference to the quality of Israeli wine, they received his homage with a courtesy that Alexis knew cost them blood.

Even when he went on to discuss the revival of the Jewish Kultur in Germany, and the smart way in which the new Jews had cornered the Frankfurt and Berlin property markets, they still held their tongues, though the financial antics of shtetl Jews who had not answered the call to Israel secretly disgusted them quite as much as the ham-handedness of their hosts.

Then, suddenly, with Schulmann's arrival, everything became clear in a different way. He was the leader they had been waiting for: Schulmann from Jerusalem, his arrival announced a few hours in advance by a puzzled phone call from Head-quarters in Cologne.

Not given. But suddenly there he was -- not a specialist, to Alexis's eye, but a broad-headed, bustling veteran of every battle since Thermopylae, age between forty and ninety, squat and Slav and strong, and far more European than Hebrew, with a barrel chest and a wrestler's wide stride and a way of putting everyone at his ease; and this seething acolyte of his, who had not been mentioned at all.

Not Cassius, perhaps; rather, your archetypal Dostoevsky student: starved, and in conflict with demons. When Schulmann smiled, the wrinkles that flew into his face had been made by centuries of water flowing down the same rock paths, and his eyes clamped narrow like a Chinaman's.

Then, long after him, his sidekick smiled, echoing some twisted inner meaning. When Schulmann greeted you, his whole right arm swung in on you in a crablike punch fast enough to wind you if you didn't block it.

But the sidekick kept his arms at his sides as if he didn't trust them out alone. When Schulmann talked, he fired off conflicting ideas like a spread of bullets, then waited to see which ones went home and which came back at him.

The sidekick's voice followed like a stretcher-party, softly collecting up the dead. Alexis," said Schulmann, in a cheerfully accented English.

Just Schulmann. No first name, no rank, no academic title, no branch or occupation; and the student didn't have a name at all -- or not for Germans, anyway.

A people's general, Schulmann was, the way Alexis read him; a giver of hope, a power-drill, a taskmaster extraordinary; an alleged specialist who needed a room to himself and got one the same day -- the sidekick saw to it.

Soon, from behind its closed door, Schulmann's incessant voice had the tone of an out-of-town attorney, probing and evaluating their work till now.

You didn't have to be a Hebrew scholar to hear the why's and how's and when's and why-not's. An improviser, thought Alexis: a born urban guerrilla himself.

When he was silent, Alexis heard that too, and wondered what the devil he was reading suddenly that was interesting enough to stop his mouth from working.

Or were they praying? Unless it was the sidekick's turn to speak, of course, in which case Alexis would not have heard even a whisper, for the boy's voice in German company had as little volume as his body.

But more than anything else, it was Schulmann's driven urgency that Alexis felt most strongly. He was a kind of human ultimatum, passing on to his team the pressures that were upon himself, imposing a scarcely bearable desperation on their labours.

We can win, but we can also lose, he was saying, in the Doctor's lively imagination. And we have been too late for too long. Schulmann was their impresario, their manager, their general -- all that -- but he was himself a much-commanded man.

So at least Alexis read him, and he was not always so wrong. He saw it in the hard and questioning way Schulmann's men looked to him, not for the detail of their work but for its progress -- does it help?

He saw it in Schulmann's habitual gesture of cramming back the sleeve of his jacket by grasping the thick left forearm, then twisting his wrist around as if it were someone else's, until the dial of his old steel watch returned his stare.

So Schulmann has a deadline too, thought Alexis: there is a time bomb ticking under him as well; the sidekick has it in his briefcase.

The interplay between the two men fascinated Alexis -- a welcome distraction for him in his stress. When Schulmann took a walk around the Drosselstrasse and stood in the precarious ruins of the bombed house, throwing out his arm, expostulating, exami too long.

When Schulmann took a walk around the Drosselstrasse and stood in the precarious ruins of the bombed house, throwing out his arm, expostulating, examining his watch, acting as outraged as if the place had been his own, the sidekick hovered in his shadow like his conscience, with his skeletal hands battened resolutely at his hips, while he seemed to restrain his master with the whispered earnestness of his beliefs.

Everything pointed to it. To Alexis, who had been in similar situations in his day, and was in one now -- guilt-torn nerves exposed to every tiny sexual breeze -- the signs were written all over the file, and secretly it gratified him that Schulmann had read them too.

But if Cologne was adamant on the point, Bonn was nearly hysterical. He was the victim of an anti-Semitic outrage on German soil; he was an Israeli diplomat accredited to Bonn, by definition as respectable as any Jew yet invented.

Who were the Germans, of all people, they begged him to consider, that they should expose such a man as an adulterer? Some of Schulmann's activities did not reach the ears of Alexis till after the Israeli team had flown home.

He discovered, for instance, almost by accident but not quite, that Schulmann and his sidekick had together sought out the girl Elke independently of the German investigators and had persuaded her, at dead of night, to postpone her departure for Sweden so that the three of them could enjoy an entirely voluntary and well-paid private talk together.

They spent another afternoon interviewing her in a hotel bedroom and, in complete contrast to the economy of their social efforts in other fields, blithely rode with her in the taxi to the airport.

All this -- so Alexis guessed -- with the aim of finding out who her real friends were, and where she went to play when her boyfriend was safely restored to the military.

And where she bought the marihuana and amphetamines that they had found in the wreck of her room. Or, more likely, who had given them to her, and in whose arms she liked to lie and talk about herself and her employers when she was really turned on and relaxed.

Alexis deduced this partly because by now his own people had brought him their confidential report on Elke, and the questions he ascribed to Schulmann were the same ones he would have liked to ask of her himself, if Bonn had not been putting the muzzle on him and screaming "hands off.

Let the grass grow over it first. And Alexis, who was by now fighting for his survival, took the hint and shut up, because with every day that passed the Silesian's stock was rising to the detriment of his own.

Much later, when it was too late to matter, Alexis also learned -- by way of the Swedish security service, who had also formed an interest in Elke's love life -- that Schulmann and his sidekick had actually produced, in the small hours while others slept, a collection of photographs of likely candidates.

And that from them she had picked one out, an alleged Cypriot whom she had known only by his first name, Marius, which he required her to pronounce in the French manner.

And that she had signed a loose statement for them to the effect -- "Yes, this is the Marius I slept with" -- which, as they gave her to understand, they needed for Jerusalem.

Why did they? Alexis wondered. To buy off Schulmann's deadline somehow? As surety, to whip up credit back at base?

Alexis understood these things. And the more he thought about them, the greater became his sense of affinity with Schulmann, of comradely understanding.

You and I are one, he kept hearing himself thinking. We struggle, we feel, we see. Alexis perceived all this profoundly, with great self-conviction.

The obligatory closing conference took place in the lecture hall, with the ponderous Silesian presiding over three hundred chairs, mostly empty, but among them the two groups, German and Israeli, clustered like nuptial families either side of the church aisle.

The Germans were fleshed out with officials from the Ministry of the Interior and some voting-fodder from the Bundestag; the Israelis had their Military Attache from the Embassy with them, but several of their team, including Schulmann's emaciated sidekick, had already left for Tel Aviv.

Or so it was said by his comrades. The rest assembled at eleven in the morning, to be greeted with a buffet table covered with a white cloth on which the telltale fragments from the explosion were set out like archaeological finds at the end of a long dig, each with its own little museum label in electric type.

On a pegboard wall beside it they could examine the usual horror pictures -- in colour, for extra realism. At the door, a pretty girl, smiling too nicely, handed out memorial folders in plastic covers containing background data.

If she had handed out candy or ice-cream, Alexis would not have been surprised. The German contingent chattered and craned their necks at everything, including the Israelis, who for their part preserved the mortal stillness of men for whom every wasted minute was a martyrdom.

Only Alexis -- he was assured of it -- perceived and shared their secret agony, whatever its source. We Germans are simply too much, he decided.

We are the living end. He had expected, until an hour before, to be holding the floor himself. He had anticipated -- even privately prepared -- one terse flash of his lapidary style, one brisk English "Thank you, gentlemen" and out.

It was not to be. The barons had reached their decisions and they wanted the Silesian for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; they wanted no Alexis, even for coffee.

So he made a show of lounging ostentatiously at the back with his arms folded, affecting a careless interest while he fumed and empathised with the Jews.

When everyone but Alexis was sitting, the Silesian made his entry, using that special pelvic walk which in Alexis's experience overcame a certain type of German whenever he took the rostrum.

After him trod a scared young man in a white coat, laden with a duplicate of the now celebrated scuffed grey suitcase complete with its Scandinavian Airlines Systems labels, which he put on the dais as if it were an oblation.

Searching for his hero Schulmann, Alexis found him alone in an aisle seat, well to the back. He had put away his jacket and necktie and wore a pair of comfortable slacks, which, because of his generous waistline, ended a little short of his unfashionable shoes.

His steel watch winked on his brown wrist; the whiteness of his shirt against his weathered skin gave him the benign look of someone about to leave on holiday.

Hang on and I'll come with you, Alexis thought wistfully, recalling his painful session with the barons. The Silesian spoke English "out of regard for our Israeli friends.

The Silesian had attended the obligatory counter-subversion course in Washington, and spoke therefore the butchered English of an astronaut.

By way of introduction, the Silesian told them that the outrage was the work of "radical left elements," and when he threw in a reference to the "Socialist over-indulgence of modern youth," there was some supportive shuffling of approval in the parliamentary chairs.

Our dear Fuhrer himself would have put it no better, Alexis thought, but remained outwardly nonchalant. The blast, for architectural reasons, had tended upward, said the Silesian, addressing himself to a diagram that his assistant unfurled behind him, and had sheared the central structure clean out of the house, taking the top floor and hence the child's bedroom with it.

In short, it was a big bang, thought Alexis savagely, so why not say so and shut up? But the Silesian was not given to shutting up.

The best estimates put the charge at five kilograms. The mother had survived because she was in the kitchen. The kitchen was an Anbau.

This sudden, unexpected use of a German word induced -- in the German speakers, at least -- a peculiar embarrassment. In my next life I shall be a Jew or a Spaniard or an Eskimo or just a fully committed anarchist like everybody else, Alexis decided.

But a German I shall never be -- you do it once as a penance and that's it. Only a German can make an inaugural lecture out of a dead Jewish child.

The Silesian was talking about the suitcase. Cheap and nasty, of a type favoured by such unpersons as guestworkers and Turks.

And Socialists, he might have added. Those interested could read about it in their folders or study the surviving fragments of its steel frame on the buffet table.

Or they could decide, as Alexis had decided long ago, that both bomb and suitcase were a blind alley. But they could not escape listening to the Silesian, because it was the Silesian's day and this speech was his victory-roll over the deposed libertarian enemy, Alexis.

From the suitcase itself, he passed to its contents. The device was wedged in place with two sorts of wadding, gentlemen, he said.

Wadding type no. Type 2 was a sliced-up army-surplus blanket similar to the one now demonstrated by my colleague Mr. While the scared assistant held up a large grey blanket for their inspection, the Silesian proudly reeled off his other brilliant clues.

Alexis listened wearily to the familiar recitation: the crimped end of a detonator In a word, thought Alexis, a classic set-up, straight out of bomb school.

No compromising materials, no touches of vanity, no frills, beyond a kiddy-kit booby trap built into the inside angle of the lid.

Except that with the stuff the kids were getting together these days, thought Alexis, a set-up like this one made you quite nostalgic for the good old-fashioned terrorists of the seventies.

The Silesian seemed to think so too, but he was making a dreadful joke about it: "We are calling this the bikini bomb! No extras! Brusquely bypassing his assistant, the Silesian now reached an arm into the suitcase and with a flourish extracted from it a piece of softwood on which the mock-up had been assembled, a thing like a toy racing-car circuit of thin, coated wire, ending in ten sticks of greyish plastic.

As the uninitiated crowded round to take a closer look, Alexis was surprised to see Schulmann, hands in pockets, leave his place and amble over to join them.

But why? Alexis asked of him mentally, his gaze fixed shamelessly upon him. Why so leisurely suddenly, when yesterday you had hardly the time to look at your battered watch?

Abandoning his efforts at indifference, Alexis slipped quickly to his side. This is the way you make a bomb, the Silesian was suggesting, if you are cast in the conventional mould and want to blow up Jews.

You buy a cheap watch like this one -- don't steal it, buy it at a big store at their peak shopping time and buy a couple of things either side of it to confuse the assistant's memory.

Remove the hour hand. Drill a hole in the glass, put a drawing-pin in the hole, solder your electric circuit to the head of the drawing-pin with heavy glue.

Now the battery. Now set the hand as close to the drawing-pin, or as far from it, as you wish. But allow, as a general rule, the shortest possible delay, in order that the bomb shall not be discovered and disarmed.

Wind up the watch. Make sure the minute hand is still working. It is. Offer prayers to whoever you imagine made you, poke the detonator into the plastic.

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Cancel Resend Email. Want to see. Episode List. Miniseries The Little Drummer Girl Critics Consensus The Little Drummer Girl marches to a steady beat of assured plotting, extraordinary art direction, and a uniformly terrific cast that makes the show's smolderingly slow burn pace bearable.

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You're almost there! Just confirm how you got your ticket. How did you buy your ticket? Episodes 1. Episode 1 Uncut.

Episode 2 Uncut. Episode 3 Uncut. Episode 4 Uncut. Episode 5 Uncut. Episode 6 Uncut. Charlie prepares for her part in Khalil's next strike.

View All Videos 2. View All Photos In Series 1, Charlie finds herself used as a pawn in a big game of espionage, but ends up being a danger to all sides involved when she starts sympathizing with the people she's supposed to neutralize.

Simona Brown Rachel. Clare Holman Miss Bach. Michael Moshonov Shimon Litvak. Daniel Litman Daniel.

Florence Pugh Charlie Ross. Michael Shannon Martin Kurtz. Kate Sumpter Rose. Alessandro Piavani Mario Rossino. Iben Akerlie Anna Witgen.

Alexander Beyer Dr Paul Alexis. Charif Ghattas Khalil Al-Khadar. Roee Adar Oded. Edward Davis Willie. Bethany Muir Sophie.

Tom Hanson Paulie. Max Irons Al. Lubna Azabal. Chan-wook Park. Michael Lesslie. Stephen Cornwell. Joseph Tsai. Laura Hastings-Smith. Simon Cornwell.

Wonjo Jeong. Arthur Wang. Claire Wilson. Nov 19, Full Review…. Willa Paskin. What makes "The Little Drummer Girl" so good is the methodical pursuit of an answer.

Verne Gay. Nov 17, Full Review…. Brian Tallerico. Nov 16, Full Review…. David Bianculli. Nov 15, Rating: A- Full Review…. Ben Travers. Luis Caviaro.

A notable adaptation. Ernesto Diezmartinez. El Pais Spain.

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The Little Drummer Girl

Technical Specs. Plot Summary. Plot Keywords. Parents Guide. External Sites. User Reviews. User Ratings. External Reviews.

Metacritic Reviews. Photo Gallery. Trailers and Videos. Crazy Credits. Alternate Versions. Rate This. An American actress with a penchant for lying is forcibly recruited by Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency, to trap a Palestinian bomber, by pretending to be the girlfriend of his dead brother.

Director: George Roy Hill. Available on Amazon. Added to Watchlist. From metacritic. Stars of the s, Then and Now.

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Alexis listened wearily to the familiar recitation: the crimped end of a detonator In a word, thought Alexis, a classic set-up, straight out of bomb school.

No compromising materials, no touches of vanity, no frills, beyond a kiddy-kit booby trap built into the inside angle of the lid.

Except that with the stuff the kids were getting together these days, thought Alexis, a set-up like this one made you quite nostalgic for the good old-fashioned terrorists of the seventies.

The Silesian seemed to think so too, but he was making a dreadful joke about it: "We are calling this the bikini bomb! No extras! Brusquely bypassing his assistant, the Silesian now reached an arm into the suitcase and with a flourish extracted from it a piece of softwood on which the mock-up had been assembled, a thing like a toy racing-car circuit of thin, coated wire, ending in ten sticks of greyish plastic.

As the uninitiated crowded round to take a closer look, Alexis was surprised to see Schulmann, hands in pockets, leave his place and amble over to join them.

But why? Alexis asked of him mentally, his gaze fixed shamelessly upon him. Why so leisurely suddenly, when yesterday you had hardly the time to look at your battered watch?

Abandoning his efforts at indifference, Alexis slipped quickly to his side. This is the way you make a bomb, the Silesian was suggesting, if you are cast in the conventional mould and want to blow up Jews.

You buy a cheap watch like this one -- don't steal it, buy it at a big store at their peak shopping time and buy a couple of things either side of it to confuse the assistant's memory.

Remove the hour hand. Drill a hole in the glass, put a drawing-pin in the hole, solder your electric circuit to the head of the drawing-pin with heavy glue.

Now the battery. Now set the hand as close to the drawing-pin, or as far from it, as you wish. But allow, as a general rule, the shortest possible delay, in order that the bomb shall not be discovered and disarmed.

Wind up the watch. Make sure the minute hand is still working. It is. Offer prayers to whoever you imagine made you, poke the detonator into the plastic.

As the minute hand touches the shank of the pin, so the contact completes the electrical circuit and if the Lord is good, the bomb goes off.

To demonstrate this marvel, the Silesian removed the disarmed detonator and the ten sticks of demonstration plastic explosive and replaced them with a small light-bulb suitable for a hand-torch.

Nobody doubted that it worked, most knew the thing by heart, but for a moment, all the same, it seemed to Alexis that the bystanders shared an involuntary shudder as the bulb cheerily winked its signal.

Only Schulmann appeared immune. Perhaps he really has seen too much, thought Alexis, and the pity has finally died in him.

For Schulmann was ignoring the bulb completely. He remained stooping over the mock-up, smiling broadly and contemplating it with the critical attention of a connoisseur.

A parliamentarian, wishing to display his excellence, enquired why the bomb did not go off on time. An hour hand for twelve.

How do we account, please, for fourteen hours in a bomb that can only wait twelve maximum? He gave one now, while Schulmann, still with his indulgent smile, started to probe gently around the edges of the mockup with his thick fingers, as if he had lost something in the wadding below.

Possibly the watch had failed, said the Silesian. Possibly the car journey to the Drosselstrasse had upset the mechanism.

Possibly the watch, being cheap, had stopped and restarted. Possibly anything, thought Alexis, unable to contain his irritation.

But Schulmann had a different suggestion, and a more ingenious one: "Or possibly this bomber did not scrape enough paint off the watch hand," he said, in a kind of distracted aside as he turned his attention to the hinges of the facsimile suitcase.

Hauling an old service penknife from his pocket, he selected from its attachments a plump spike and began probing behind the head of the hinge-pin, confirming to himself the ease with which it could be removed.

But maybe this bomber is not so scientific as your laboratory people," he said as he snapped his knife shut with a loud clunk.

Not so neat in his constructions. Unaware apparently of how -- for the moment, at least -- he had upstaged the Silesian in the full flight of his performance, Schulmann transferred his attention to the homemade booby trap inside the lid, gently tugging at the stretch of wire that was stitched into the lining and joined to a dowel in the mouth of the clothespeg.

Tell us, please. We shall be interested. It was wound on itself like a woollen dummy, with a loop round its waist holding it together.

Why are we missing half a metre of wire from your reconstruction? Just common wire. When the bomber had made the device, there was evidently wire over, so he -- or she -- they threw it into the suitcase.

This is for tidiness, this is normal. It was spare wire," he repeated. Without technical significance. Sag ihm doch übrig.

It is left over. Their eyes did not quite meet, yet Alexis knew for certain that Schulmann was waiting for him, willing him across the room and saying lunch.

The Silesian was still droning on, the audience still standing aimlessly round him like a bunch of grounded airline passengers.

Detaching himself from its fringe, Alexis tiptoed quickly after the departing Schulmann. In the corridor, Schulmann grasped his arm in a spontaneous gesture of affection.

On the pavement -- it was a lovely sunny day again -- both men took off their jackets and Alexis afterwards remembered very well how Schulmann rolled his up like a desert pillow while Alexis hailed a taxi and gave the name of an Italian restaurant on a hilltop on the far side of Bad Godesberg.

He had taken women there before, but never men, and Alexis, in all things the voluptuary, was always conscious of first times. On the drive they barely spoke.

Schulmann admired the view and beamed about with the serenity of one who has earned his Sabbath, though it was midweek.

His plane, Alexis recalled, was scheduled to leave Cologne in early evening. Like a child being taken out from school, Alexis counted the hours this would leave them, assuming Schulmann had no other engagements, a ridiculous but wonderful assumption.

At the --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Review "A work of enormous power and artistry; no mere 'entertainment'.

Charlie is the ultimate double agent. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon.

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Please try again later. He's not going to give you a gripping narrative, but he will create a highly atmospheric tale with highly developed character studies.

Nobody writes about spies as convincingly but also absorbingly. Le Carre is the thinking man's James Bond - and I'm deliberate about the analogy, because Charlie may be the first heroine in a spy novel to challenge the stereotypical sexism the genre is mired in okay Charlie isn't exactly Ripley or Sarah Connor, but she is a deep, original character with a dynamic personality.

That may be only a relative aberration for an author whose female characters are always frail love interests instead of protagonists, but I would still trust Charlie light years ahead of for a covert op.

Furthermore, this might also be one of his more audaciously political books. It's pages are rife with ideology and rhetoric from both sides the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Someone might accuse the author of having a bias, but he could always sidestep that charge by saying that an immersive persona would necessarily reflect Charlie's conditioning for her role.

If I sound sensitive to subject - I'm not, because it was electrifying to read. The novel never goes far enough for a full-fledged endorsement - it's conclusion is still one of resignation, that intelligence work and national security never offer their practitioners any moral high ground.

The only relief for their consciences is in choosing the least of many evils. Reviewed in the United States on December 23, Verified Purchase John Le Carre was for a long time my absolute favorite author -- I would stay up all night reading anything to do with George Smiley.

Alas, perhaps it's the Me Too movement effect, but I had to put this early work down as the kidnapped girl-woman is 'interrogated' to a point of breakdown by 3 or 4 senior tradesmen, at least partially for their own amusement and presumably that of the reader.

It's a kind of psychoporn -- though perhaps the amoral world Le Carre so brilliantly traversed has itself become tedious, even unpleasant. The absolute villain is always ourself -- which is no excuse for kidnapping and psychologically gangbanging a young woman such as Charlie.

Nor even reading about it. Reviewed in the United States on June 5, Verified Purchase I know it's heresy, but I find this book far better than any of his classics.

First, it could have been written in as nothing really has changed in the Israel-Palestine conflict. Second, I will take Kurtz over Smiley any day.

Smiley is always more or less on the outs with the Circus, whereas Kurtz is very much in the organization, and his trade craft is as good if not better.

Plus he doesn't have that depressing relationship with Ann that saddles Smiley and the Smiley books. Third, the Israeli secret service is young, vibrant, enthusiastic, on the offensive, whereas the Circus is made up of disillusioned old men trying to keep their service from disintegrating, and they're almost always on the defensive.

Fourth, Le Carre's language and characterizations are superb. About two-thirds of the way in there is a brief interlude where Kurtz needs cooperation from the British military.

The way the author sketches the history of the British occupation of Israel through his characterization of a British officer is brilliant.

Fifth, the plotting is intricate but there is a great payoff at the end. I have to admit this was not my favorite upon first reading it, but having recently re-read Le Carre's canon I find this is the one that truly stands the test of time.

Le Carre's earlier Smiley works appeal to me not at all. In attempted rereads I could not force myself to finish them,where from Drummer Girl on the magic of his writing glows and lends a pleasure as I reread his later works for the third time.

Le Carre's old work was well respected but his newer stuff is among the finest writing of my times. Modern,multicultural,multicolored England is a bustling,thriving,vibrant country.

Le Carre reflects this profound change in British society effortlessly and almost by the way in his writing. Old England was boring-modern England is a very different place.

Old Le Carre bored me as well,but from Drummer Girl on I consider him to be one of the masters of the English language.

Read more 20 people found this helpful Helpful Comment Report abuse See all reviews Top reviews from other countries gerardpeter 1. The plot is undeniably clever, but even for a spy novel, somewhat far-fetched.

To render it convincing Le Carre freights his account with copious detail of person, place and circumstance. The author loads his characters with complex psychologies and back stories.

Acts and counteracts must emerge from a tangled forest of lost childhoods, idiopathic personality traits, and misconstrued passages from Regis Debray or Frantz Fanon.

He gave his imagination full rein, and drops names merrily but he failed to persuade me of either the truth or necessity of it all. The motivation of Palestine organizations for using violence is rather simple, the response of the Israeli state equally straightforward - whatever your position on the Middle East.

For certain the portrayal of female characters, especially of Charlie, is very much of its time and its male authorship.

If women are shallow, men are deep, subtle and complicated. OK but it does not work in and I am reading it in It was not going to get any better.

I will reserve judgement on the TV series. The plot is still implausible but watchable when the book was - in the end - unreadable. Read more 14 people found this helpful Report abuse M.

Dowden 5. Here we take in the warring between Israel and Palestine, but it could take in many different theatres of action, and although you can put this in the spy genre of books, to be honest this is much more than that.

Although the Israeli intelligence services have a good idea, it is one thing to know who the person is, and another to locate them and put them out of action.

And thus, small-time British actress Charlie makes an appearance. A radical with differing views and quite often on demonstrations what is it about her that seems to make her a good candidate to bring down a terrorist organisation?

There is a good and believable story which is well plotted, and with fully realised characters, but this goes beyond that as we are made to think of certain actions that are carried out.

For Kurtz, who is leading this special operation, with the acceptance of deniability by the State of Israel, so we see how Charlie is broken down and then rebuilt to become the person that is wanted for the mission.

Kurtz, who is a moderate thinks that by carrying out a successful mission he may be able to hold off certain insurgences against Palestinians, but is he right?

Charlie finds herself having to give the performance of a lifetime, but will she stay loyal to her employers, or will she go native and help the Palestinians?

With such questions and others, we have to contemplate the grey world of such activities that have people manipulating and lying to each other, all with their own ideologies, ones that may alter as times progresses, and also the problems that occur trying to bring a peaceable solution to matters that can seem incomprehensibly hard.

There is a TV series of this I believe coming in November, and as I am writing this I have my fingers crossed that it will be good and do justice to this novel.

Read more 14 people found this helpful Report abuse Elizabeth Angus 5. It's well constructed, and the writing is excellent as always - I didn't realise when I picked up my first le Carre book that there's a literary turn to his spy writing.

He actually writes very well indeed. The Little Drummer Girl doesn't disappoint - my only criticism, and this goes for all his work, is that he only able to write one lead female character.

Charlie is every other woman he's written Read more 22 people found this helpful Report abuse Amazon Customer 5. Reviewed in the United Kingdom on April 11, Verified Purchase Despite having read it I don't know where the title of the book comes from.

Maybe I missed something. Having said that it is Le Carre at his best and I cannot fault it. I am left with the impression that the book is heavily researched because it has that ring of truth about it that shouts at you.

The build up is careful and thorough without being boring and the end is very well delivered. I suspect it will be just as good as the book.

Overall a first class story that I can recommend to anyone. Read more 9 people found this helpful Report abuse Timekeeper 4.

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There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Verified Purchase. This is one of my favorite books, but let's face it - no one reads a John Le Carre novel for the plot.

John Le Carre was for a long time my absolute favorite author -- I would stay up all night reading anything to do with George Smiley.

I know it's heresy, but I find this book far better than any of his classics. Little Drummer Girl is what I consider to be the first glimpse of Le Carre's modern post cold war style even though he wrote it a third of a century ago and the cold war had a bit left to run.

See all reviews. Top reviews from other countries. I am one of many new readers of this novel, reissued as a modern classic to coincide with a serialization on BBC.

I'm working my way consecutively through le Carre's books, and it's interesting to see his confidence develop.

Despite having read it I don't know where the title of the book comes from. Slow first half but morphed into an astounding story. More items to explore.

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Please click the link below to receive your verification email. Cancel Resend Email. Want to see. Episode List. Miniseries The Little Drummer Girl Critics Consensus The Little Drummer Girl marches to a steady beat of assured plotting, extraordinary art direction, and a uniformly terrific cast that makes the show's smolderingly slow burn pace bearable.

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You're almost there! Just confirm how you got your ticket. How did you buy your ticket? Episodes 1. Episode 1 Uncut.

Episode 2 Uncut. Episode 3 Uncut. Episode 4 Uncut. Episode 5 Uncut. Episode 6 Uncut. Charlie prepares for her part in Khalil's next strike.

View All Videos 2. View All Photos In Series 1, Charlie finds herself used as a pawn in a big game of espionage, but ends up being a danger to all sides involved when she starts sympathizing with the people she's supposed to neutralize.

Simona Brown Rachel. Clare Holman Miss Bach. Michael Moshonov Shimon Litvak. Daniel Litman Daniel. Florence Pugh Charlie Ross.

Michael Shannon Martin Kurtz. Kate Sumpter Rose. Alessandro Piavani Mario Rossino. Iben Akerlie Anna Witgen. Alexander Beyer Dr Paul Alexis.

Charif Ghattas Khalil Al-Khadar. Roee Adar Oded. Edward Davis Willie. Bethany Muir Sophie. Tom Hanson Paulie.

Max Irons Al. Lubna Azabal. Chan-wook Park. Michael Lesslie. Stephen Cornwell. Joseph Tsai. Laura Hastings-Smith. Simon Cornwell. Wonjo Jeong.

Arthur Wang. Claire Wilson. Nov 19, Full Review…. Willa Paskin. What makes "The Little Drummer Girl" so good is the methodical pursuit of an answer.

Verne Gay. Nov 17, Full Review…. Brian Tallerico. Nov 16, Full Review….

The Little Drummer Girl Česko-Slovenská filmová databáze Video

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Dezember Sophie 2 episodes, Sam Troughton Gadi Becker 6 episodes, Anton Mesterbein 3 episodes, Willie 2 episodes, Stay Alive Film 2 episodes, TV Watch: Drama. Focus Puller 6 episodes, Bakogiannis Kostas The Queen's Gambit. She is approached and ultimately recruited Mockridge Brüder can they trust her not to side Heroes Staffel 1 Stream the terrorists she is meant to be infiltrating when even she doesn't know which side she will back in the end. Thus the fronts of some of the houses were already half obscured by dense plantations of conifers, which, if they ever grow to proper size, Zdfneo Royale presumably one day plunge the whole area into a Grimm's fairy-tale blackout. I suspect it will be just as good as the book. ComiXology Thousands of Digital Comics. To get the free app, enter your mobile phone number. Yes, he remembered, she had good legs and a very white neck. Yes, a radio aerial. The Twelfth Day of Christmas. Email address. Nach einiger Zeit droht sie allerdings an den Szenen von Gewalt zu zerbrechen und beginnt auch für die Gegenseite Sympathien zu G�Nsehaut Stream Hd Filme. Camp Trainer 1 episode, Music Preparation 6 episodes, Katy Kim Schwilli 6 episodes, Anton Mesterbein 3 episodes, Iben Akerlie Jerks Staffel 1 Netflix Al-Khadar 3 episodes, Katharina Schüttler Die Motivation der palästinensischen Attentäter erscheint, vor der detaillierteren Beleuchtung des Hintergrundes, wenn auch nicht gerechtfertigt, so doch zumindest nachvollziehbar. Sophie 2 episodes, Sam Troughton Ansichten Lesen Bearbeiten Quelltext bearbeiten Versionsgeschichte. Schnick Schnack Schnuck Stream The Talmudic Bs Thundermans saw nothing and heard nothing. She and Becker share a last moment together before she crosses the point of no return. Iben Akerlie Anna Witgen. In short, it was a Der Bergdoktor Vorschau bang, thought Alexis savagely, so why not say so and shut up? We want to hear what you have to say but need 6 Days 2019 verify your account. The Tailor of Panama: A Novel. Email Address. Only one editorial suggested that as long as the Israelis persisted in their indiscriminate bombing of Palestinian camps and villages -- killing not one child but dozens at a time -- they must reckon on this type of barbaric reprisal. From metacritic. Helga Stern 3 episodes, The Little Drummer Girl The Little Drummer Girl

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3 Gedanken zu „The Little Drummer Girl

  1. Yozshugor Antworten

    Nach meiner Meinung irren Sie sich. Schreiben Sie mir in PM, wir werden umgehen.

  2. Kashakar Antworten

    Nach meiner Meinung sind Sie nicht recht. Schreiben Sie mir in PM.

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