57 pages • 1 hour read
Mick HerronA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Content Warning: This section of the guide describes portrayals of racist and sexist attitudes and language, and expletives, and makes reference to alcohol dependency, extremist terrorist activity, kidnapping, threat, violence, violent death, and death by suicide.
Slow Horses makes continual reference to the Cold War spy thrillers that precede it, particularly the novels of John le Carré, to set up a contrast between the old days of spying and the modern nature of espionage. The characters also speak about the Cold War with nostalgia and regret as a lost time when the spy’s mission and purpose was clearly drawn. The Slough House series takes place in 2010, the modern era of forever wars, foreign terrorism, and cyberattacks, where the old Cold War distinctions between the good guys and the bad guys are blurred, at best. Shifting geopolitical allegiances and destabilized centers of power have fundamentally altered the ways in which spies operate, within their own bureaucracy and out in the field.
It is no wonder, then, that Jackson Lamb’s Slough House environs are dominated by gloom and decay. Not only is the location considered a backwater, far from the central hub of Regent’s Park, and populated by exiled agents, but it is also a place that symbolizes the arc of Lamb’s career as an aging Cold War “warrior.” Thus, Slough House becomes “Jackson Lamb’s new kingdom: a place of yellows and greys, where once all was black and white” (17). It is not merely that the physical place shows signs of wear, “white exhausted by stale breath and tobacco” (16), but also that Slough House, like Lamb, occupies a moral limbo. The agents who work for Lamb are routinely humiliated (often by Lamb himself) and reminded constantly of their uselessness. They are very far from the heroized James Bond figures of action, glamour, and global travel. Rather, they are bureaucratic pencil-pushers.
Regent’s Park, meanwhile, operates in a mode of moral superiority, though that is eventually undermined by Diana Taverner’s ambitious scheming. According to the rumors that River Cartwright has heard, Taverner is frustrated with the ways in which the Service is currently run. Thus, she justifies her increasingly immoral actions. River notes that, even if Taverner were Service Head she would not have the kind of power that the old guard did: “there were Boards to answer to these days” (48). The bureaucracy has superseded the moral mission, not to mention the glamour, of the Cold War years. Even River himself harbors a nostalgia about those times, partly fostered by his grandfather, long retired from the Service. As River realizes, “No Service Head had been given free rein since Charles Partner [. . .]. But then, Partner had been a Cold War warrior from his fur-lined collar to his fingerless gloves, and the Cold War had been simpler” (48). It was East versus West, Communism versus Democracy, Moscow versus London. These lines are now not clearly delineated. River knows that his own experience will be markedly different from his grandfather’s: “The O.B. had spent his working life in the service of his country, when the battle lines were drawn less crookedly than now” (85). Taverner herself understands that the spy game is much more complex than it used to be, not only muddled by shifting geopolitical concerns but also hobbled by bureaucratic entanglements: “Her apprenticeship had been served in the fag-end of the Cold War, and it sometimes felt like that was the easy part” (105). Then, at least through the lens of nostalgia, things were simpler, and the enemy was already identified.
It is significant that the terror threat in the novel is from British citizens, and citizens who define themselves by their Britishness. This intentional choice underscores the changing nature of the threats faced by the nation and its Service. When Taverner tells Lamb, “[T]here’s a war on, Jackson” (202), she refers to the security threat of the culture war that is being waged between conflicting ideologies amid shifting geopolitical realities. Unlike the Cold War, when allegiance was split down national lines and shared sense of “Britishness” and patriotism was assumed against a common enemy, modern threats are expressive of factions within Britian, which contest the very meaning and nature of patriotism and British identity.
Slow Horses highlights the stark contrast between the suspenseful threat and disappointment of betrayal, as represented by Diana Taverner, and the slow-burn constant of loyalty, as represented by Jackson Lamb. Taverner’s schemes end up with Jed Moody and Alan Black killed, Sid Baker shot, and Hassan Ahmed traumatized. Lamb’s actions, on the other hand, restore the confidence and rehabilitate the reputations of his agents. In both cases, the motivations and personalities are often morally mixed. Taverner has largely good intentions and Lamb’s self-interest is hardly secret, but their characters still exhibit diametrically opposed understandings of what it means to be an agent in the Service. The novel traces the other characters’ moral journeys as they judge which system is the more trustworthy and negotiate their own allegiances in relation to loyalty and betrayal.
Taverner’s capacity for betrayal is shown when she decides to sacrifice the entire crew of Slough House in order to cover her own mistakes. The operation she concocted to bolster her reputation has gone horribly wrong, and she needs someone to blame. Given Slough House’s second-tier status, not to mention its leader’s less-than-politic behavior, the slow horses easily become scapegoats. Her intended actions use the theme of loyalty and betrayal to raise the tension and sense of the plot as it reaches its narrative climax. In contrast, while Lamb’s loyalty to the slow horses is always tinged with derision, the novel increasingly reveals it to be genuine. He constantly derides their talents and shines a spotlight on their mistakes, yet he protects them from trouble, including from the Service itself, in the form of Taverner and Regent’s Park. The novel exemplifies loyalty though Lamb: Though he follows his own moral code, this is defined by loyalty, albeit often masked by his demeanor. As he says of the slow horses, “I think they’re a bunch of fucking losers […] But they’re my losers” (206). When the conspiracy is finally revealed, Lamb again indicates his firm sense of spy morality: “A handler never burns his own joe. It’s the worst treachery of all” (312).
Lamb’s disdain for Regent’s Park fosters a more significant attachment to Slough House: “The day I let Regent’s Park screw me around’s the day I take the pledge,” i.e., abstain from alcohol (277). His actions have the effect of bringing the team itself closer together: “They’d been thrown together by fate and poor judgment, and had never operated as a team before” (253), a reality that changes as the circumstances demand. When Ho and the others work to track the hostage, they work together. He thinks, “they were all slow horses, which seemed to count for something this morning” (291). In contrast to Taverner’s default duplicity, the slow horses slowly develop a mutual allegiance. The depiction of this gradual relationship is integral to the narrative’s active and emotional trajectory.
The deep wish for forgiveness, redemption, and second chances is a defining aspect of the slow horses. This theme relates to the characters’ sense of disgrace, guilt, and shame in being relegated to Slough House, and to the development of their characters through self-reflection. This theme is also crucial to the narrative’s structure and arc, as the story is a tale of personal redemption, an archetypal underdog victory. As the slow horses are negatively introduced as those who have committed professional errors that have stranded them in Slough House, a second chance at first seems impossibly remote. As the action intensifies and the novel reveals hidden depths to the characters, their hopes grow, encouraging the reader to hope also.
Slough House is a place of failure, symbolized by the bag of garbage that River sorts through on his office floor. Those that inhabit the place are imagined, by the author’s hypothetical observer, to be prisoners, locked up for sins against themselves and society at large. In this view, Slough House “becomes an overhead dungeon to which the failures of some larger service are consigned as punishment: for crimes of drugs and drunkenness and lechery; of politics and betrayal; of unhappiness and doubt” (16). Those who toil here are serving time for their myriad mistakes, and their banishment is justified. The residents themselves understand what their exile entails. As River puts it, “That’s what being in Slough House means. It means not being needed” (101). Later, when Jed Moody defects from the place, he offers a blunt explanation: “Nobody’s happy at Slough House” (134). Notably, Moody’s defection leads to his death, while those who remain stumble upon opportunities.
Sid Baker, for one, tries to reassure River: “Maybe Slough House isn’t such a dead end” (102). Though she is speaking from a false position—she is not exiled to Slough House but assigned there to watch River—she suggests that there are possibilities for second chances even there. River himself knows that if not for his grandfather’s legacy, he “wouldn’t have [even] been a slow horse, he’d have been melted down for glue” (91). Thus, the intervention of more powerful forces like influential people or unforeseen events can alter the course of one’s career. The shooting of Sid Baker is another such instance: “When an agent got shot, there was no such thing as downtime. Even when it was a slow horse” (169). For Sid, who is shot and then disappears, there is no second chance within the novel. Whether this is a punishment or an escape is left ambiguous.
The novel casts Taverner as the arbiter of second chances. When Taverner tries to convince Lamb to send in his team to rescue the hostage, she knows exactly what words will entice: “Redemption. Rehabilitation.” It is enough to encourage Lamb to play along, although he does not trust her. Later, when Taverner tries to coerce Struan Loy to betray Lamb and his team, she baits him with the promise of a second chance. She tells him that nobody has ever made it back to Regent’s Park after being exiled to Slough House: “It’s never happened. […] Of course, that doesn’t mean it never will” (246). She dangles the possibility of redemption in front of him like a lure, and Loy falls for the it. Loy’s mistake is to seek redemption by betrayal of the slow horses, not from within. Whenever Taverner tries to leverage Catherine’s past, Lamb defends her. Lamb recognizes that Catherine “was loyal to him so [Partner] used her” (308) and refuses to allow Taverner to do the same. Lamb views Catherine Standish as his “sin,” and his exile to Slough House serves as his penance, whether or not that is the official reason for his banishment. At the ends of the novel, therefore, Catherine becomes the route for Lamb’s potential redemption. He is not sorry for Charles Partner’s death, or his role in it, but he is sorry that Standish was collateral. Lamb’s final display of loyalty to Slough House in general, and to Catherine Standish in particular, rounds off the book’s theme of forgiveness and represents a promise of second chances for the slow horse in subsequent novels.