Novelist John Le Carré Reflects On His Own 'Legacy' Of Spying

DAVID BIANCULLI, HOST: This is FRESH AIR. I'm David Bianculli, editor of the website TV Worth Watching, sitting in for Terry Gross. Today's guest is John le Carre, an author who is famous for his spy novels but whose writing has been praised for transcending genre fiction and simply being great literature. Many of his books have been adapted into films or TV series, including "The Spy Who Came In From The Cold," "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" and "The Night Manager."

Before writing espionage novels, le Carre was a spy. He worked for Britain's domestic intelligence service MI5, and its foreign intelligence service MI6. He was still working for MI6 when his third book, the Cold War novel "The Spy Who Came In From The Cold," became an international best-seller. One of the characters in that novel, George Smiley, became the main character in several of le Carre's later books.

And Smiley is back in le Carre's latest novel "A Legacy Of Spies," which is now out in paperback. The main character, Peter Guillam, had been a protege of Smiley's. In the new novel, Guillam is retired but is forced to re-examine actions he took when he was a spy during the Cold War - actions that may have cost the lives of two people who were close to him.

Terry spoke with John le Carre last September when "A Legacy Of Spies" was first published.

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TERRY GROSS, BYLINE: John le Carre, welcome to FRESH AIR. Let's begin with a reading from your new novel, "A Legacy Of Spies." Would you read the first page for us?

JOHN LE CARRE: Sure.

(Reading) What follows is a truthful account, as best I'm able to provide it, of my role in the British deception operation, code-named Windfall, that was mounted against the East German Intelligence Service, Stasi, in the late 1950s and early '60s and resulted in the death of the best British secret agent I ever worked with, and of the innocent woman for whom he gave his life.

A professional intelligence officer is no more immune to human feelings than the rest of mankind. What matters to him is the extent to which he is able to suppress them, whether in real time or, in my case, 50 years on.

Until a couple of months ago, lying in bed at night in the remote farmstead in Brittany that is my home, listening to the honk of cattle and the bickering of hens, I resolutely fought off the accusing voices that from time to time attempted to disrupt my sleep. I was too young, I protested. I was too innocent, too naive, too junior. If you're looking for scalps, I told them, go to those grand masters of deception George Smiley and his master, Control. It was their refined cunning, I insisted, their devious, scholarly intellects, not mine, that delivered the triumph and the anguish that was Windfall.

It is only now, having been held to account by the service to which I devoted the best years of my life, that I am driven in age and bewilderment to set down, at whatever cost, the light and dark sides of my involvement in the affair.

GROSS: John le Carre, why did you write about a spy forced to face his responsibility for two deaths decades ago?

LE CARRE: I think because back then, we had a clear philosophy which we thought we were protecting, and it was a notion of the West. It was a notion of individual freedom, of inclusiveness, of tolerance. All of that we called anti-communism. That was really a broad brush because there were many decent people who lived in communist territories who weren't as bad as one might suppose.

But now, today, this present time in which these matters are being reconsidered in my novel, we seem to have no direction. We seem to be joined by nothing very much, except fear and bewilderment about what the future holds. We have no coherent ideology in the West, and we used to believe in the great American example. I think that's recently been profoundly undermined for us. We're alone.

Two of my most important characters in the story - Peter Guillam, the narrator, and George Smiley, who is Guillam's master, if you like - both of them turn out to be semi-Europeans. I think my concern as I started writing the book in this extraordinary atmosphere in which we presently live was somehow implicitly to make a case for Europe, which has now become an endangered species.

GROSS: It sounds like you feel strongly about Brexit and that you think that was a mistake.

LE CARRE: I think I feel most strongly about the timing of Brexit, which is appalling. At the very moment when Europe needs to be a coherent, single bloc able to protect itself morally, politically and, if necessary, militarily, we've left it. And we're stuck in the Atlantic. And, as George Smiley remarks himself, citizens of nowhere at the moment.

At the moment, as the present is described in the novel, we are mysteriously unfocused, still looking for some kind of identity, really, ever since the end of the Cold War. There was no Marshall Plan. There was no great visionary or leader who told us how the world should be reshaped. There was drift. And a lot of carpetbaggers went and picked at the Soviet carcass. And, really, it was like a long after-lunch sleep of capitalism. And that's really what we've drifted into without a design of the new world.

GROSS: You know, in the reading that you did, your character refers to, you know, being expected or having to suppress human feelings to be a spy. And he later, you know, thinks that George Smiley, your most famous character who recruited your narrator, suppressed the humanity in him. Do you look back on your career in intelligence and regret anything that you did?

LE CARRE: Yes, I do. I regret, in my student days, posing as a crypto-communist and trying to attract Soviet recruiters in those days. I was sort of half-successful. I got picked up and flirted with by a Russian recruiter in the Soviet Embassy in London. And it all came to nothing. Perhaps, I wasn't clever enough, or perhaps I was compromised by somebody else.

But in the course of posing as that person, I had to sign up as some kind of secret communist, and that meant deceiving my colleagues and my fellow students. And looking back on that, I feel very queasy about it. And then I ask myself how much worse it must be now for people attacking the Islamist target, and how grim by comparison and how severe the possible outcomes would be.

GROSS: So what made you feel queasy was deceiving people who you know...

LE CARRE: Yeah. That's right.

GROSS: ...And pretending to have opinions...

LE CARRE: Yes.

GROSS: ...And beliefs that you did not have in order to entrap people?

LE CARRE: Yeah. But if you think of it, in the larger sense, if you drop a bomb, you kill people you don't know. If you kill them with a knife, you kill them - you kill somebody you do know. It is the human encounter that makes the act unbearable, or makes - places a great strain on one's conscience or one's sense of decency. If you're sufficiently detached from it, it becomes a statistic. It becomes a military act.

But face-to-face - the lies straight into the face, the befriending - the false befriending and those things are - they're demeaning in a sense. They diminish one's sense of self.

And actually, in some rather sad way, I did what I think was probably, in the end, the right thing. We expect intelligence services to deliver. But then, when we're asked to get our own hands dirty, we get squeamish about it.

BIANCULLI: Author John le Carre speaking to Terry Gross last year. More after a break. This is FRESH AIR.

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BIANCULLI: This is FRESH AIR. Let's get back to Terry's 2017 interview with author John le Carre. His latest spy novel, "A Legacy Of Spies," is now out in paperback.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED BROADCAST)

GROSS: There's another paragraph I'd like you to read from your new novel. It's on page 19, and it's about interrogation.

LE CARRE: (Reading) In any interrogation, denial is the tipping point. Never mind the courtesies that went before. From the moment of denial, things are never going to be the same. At the secret policeman level, denial is likely to provoke instant reprisal, not least because the average secret policeman is more stupid than his subject. The sophisticated interrogator, on the other hand, finding the door slammed in his face, does not immediately try to kick it in. He prefers to regroup and advance on his target from a different angle.

GROSS: Did you have to do interrogations when you were in intelligence?

LE CARRE: Yes. I did a lot of interrogations my first spell in British security and MI5.

GROSS: And...

LE CARRE: They were benign interrogations, as it were, often of civil servants whose departments and whose head of personnel were aware of the interrogation, the interview, and were able to supply protection to the employee and so on. These were not, what we would call, seriously hostile interviews, except in a few rare cases.

But everything I learned about interrogation then tells me that all the rough stuff that we've heard about, the really awful stuff - the waterboarding, the torture, the stuff that Trump is now encouraging again - is quite useless. In my experience, people under great threat will make up a great deal of information that is then false. They will brand their mother under torture if they have to.

I've found that trying to understand people, trying to befriend them, trying to indicate that you're their one hope and those things - patience and actually indicating that you're a human being is quite helpful, and that most people who've got something on their conscience, one way or another, would quite like to confess it if the weather was in the right direction, if the circumstances were right. And, at least, that was my own, private conclusion.

GROSS: I want to get back to that in a couple of minutes. But first, I want to ask you, because you've written so many novels set during the Cold War, you met two heads of the KGB, you were in Russia twice, once during the Soviet era - Communist era, and then once in 1993 when the oligarchs and the criminals had kind of taken over. And you wrote about the Cold War, nothing, absolutely nothing, is what it seems. Everyone has a second motive, if not a third.

I'm wondering how that applies to trying to figure out what's happening now in terms of possible collusion between the Trump campaign and Russia and Russia's interference in the U.S. election and in other elections, as well. You know, the whole idea of, like, nothing is what it seems - do you think that's still the case? And if so, like, what do you - how are you trying to understand what Russia has been up to?

LE CARRE: A whole bunch of questions in one.

GROSS: I know. That's really terrible (laughter). I think I committed an interviewer sin just now.

LE CARRE: Let's look, first of all, at the operation influence, if you like, and how that's exerted. What we suspect the Russians are doing, not only in the United States, but they did in Britain for the referendum, maybe in Britain for the election. They certainly interfered in Macron's election in France. So who are these forces?

And what is really spooky, I think, and profoundly disturbing is they come from the West as well as the East - that there are oligarchs in the West who are so far to the right that they make a kind of natural cause with those on the other side of the world. Both of them have in common a great contempt for the ordinary conduct of democracy. They want to diminish it. They see it as their enemy. They see - they've made a dirty word of liberalism, one of the most inviting words in politics. They've - and so they're closing in on the same target from different points of view. That's the first thing.

So whether they're called Cambridge Analytica, or whether they've got some spooky name and they're hidden away in the Ukraine, they're actually doing much the same job. They're undermining the decent processes of democracy, and that's having its effect. It's had its effect in Europe, in Hungary, in Poland. And I think it's had a quite disturbing effect in my own country. We'll come to that later.

LE CARRE: Now, as to what is happening in the other areas of Russian behavior and Mr. Trump's association, there, I think we follow the money trail. I think it's perfectly possible that Trump was taken into what I call a honey trap - that he had ladies found for him and he misbehaved in Russia.

I don't think, if that film was shown tomorrow worldwide, Trump would get away with it. People would say, well, boys will be boys, or they would say, the different parts of the body in the video don't add up. This is all fake stuff. And 35 experts would testify to that. So wouldn't get any distance on that.

But on the money, that's a deep and persistent theme in Trump's business affairs. It's gone on for a long, long time. It relates also, to a great extent, to property held in the United States, which brings the thing closer to home. And it relates, also, to Mr. Trump's family.

BIANCULLI: We're listening to an interview with John le Carre about his latest spy novel, "A Legacy of Spies." He also has a recent memoir titled "The Pigeon Tunnel." In it, he writes about the scams his father would pull. He described his father as a pathological liar.

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GROSS: So you suggest that in terms of your earlier career as a spy in England, that since your father was a liar, that you knew how to lie and invent personalities - that that came naturally to you. You say your father was a con man, an occasional fantasist, an occasional jailbird, a crisis addict, a performance addict, a delusional enchanter who wrecked a lot of people's lives. And you say he had absolutely no relationship to the truth. So do you feel like you've picked up certain skills, so to speak, from being his son?

LE CARRE: Look. It begins - first of all, every child believes that the parents he's given are the world. I was left with one parent at the age of 5. My mother disappeared. And after that, it was living in the wake of this maverick fellow who often was enchanting. For a long time, that was my world.

Then as I began to realize the (laughter) problems it had, I was also very much concerned to survive. It's about survival. You become watchful. You know, I spent a lot of time, if he'd left the house, going through his pockets and things, trying to find out what was going on.

We were displaced repeatedly by angry debtors. For quite long periods, he was on the run. He was on the run in the United States even, wanted by the forces of the law. And he filled my head with a great lot of truthless material, which I found it necessary to check out as a child with time. So yes. I mean, in that sense, these were the early makings of a spy. But that was about how children survive.

And then his great passion, which he achieved, was to turn me into a seeming gentleman. We were all - we were working class. All my family spoke with decent regional accents, went to church very regularly and were simple people living on the south coast of England. And he broke away from that completely.

And so from the age of 5 to the age of 16, I was in private schools - in boarding schools and, in holiday times mainly, at other holiday homes and things like that. And out of that, I - at that period, I suppose I learned the language. I learned the gestures. I learned the mindset of the upper-middle classes. And somehow, more or less, my father paid for that so-called education.

But that really is how backgrounds are made. You know, we grow up as we are born. We fight the wars we inherit. And then, at a certain time in our lives, we begin to question the things we were, who we were and the things we did. That seems a natural process. Mine - it was acute because I got - I gave myself - my services to my country from quite early and then thought about it afterwards.

GROSS: Are you saying that when you were young and growing up as, you know, a person of more means than your family actually had, that you felt fraudulent?

LE CARRE: I'm quite certain we - I felt that I belonged to a fraudulent outfit because, often, my job was to humor creditors, tell them the money was in the post, as it were, whether they were tradesmen or whether they were neighbors or whether they were close friends and suddenly worried my father had fleeced them.

GROSS: Your father made you do that?

LE CARRE: Yes. I suppose you could say he made me do it. I obliged him, you know? You only have one person to love if you have one parent.

BIANCULLI: John le Carre speaking to Terry Gross last September. We'll hear more of their conversation after a break. Also, an appreciation of Aretha Franklin from our rock critic, Ken Tucker. I'm David Bianculli. And this is FRESH AIR.

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BIANCULLI: This is FRESH AIR. I'm David Bianculli, in for Terry Gross, back with more of Terry's 2017 interview with spy novelist John le Carre. Several of his novels have been adapted into movies or TV series, including "The Spy Who Came In From The Cold," "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" and "The Night Manager."

Before becoming a novelist, le Carre worked as a spy for the British intelligence agencies MI5 and MI6. His most recent spy novel, "A Legacy of Spies," is now out in paperback.

When we left off, they were talking about his recent memoir, "Pigeon Tunnel," and his father, who ran a series of unsavory and illegal schemes. Terry asked John le Carre if he felt like his father enlisted him as a partner in crime.

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LE CARRE: Yes, he did. Yes. And then I revolted against that. And I guess that's how the schism between us began, and it continued thereafter. I think from my age - sort of 18, 19 - by then, I was on the run from him and trying to - really trying to weaken the ties and finally to cut them altogether, which was what happened.

GROSS: Can you describe more of what that revolt against your father was like - what shape it took?

LE CARRE: It was asking him for certain truths - why things had happened in our lives. Why do we have to move houses suddenly? Why have we sold the house? Why have the bailiffs removed my possessions? And then, why are we frightened? Why have we hidden the car at the back of the house and put out all the lights? Why are we not answering the telephone?

And the reason why was that he had fallen foul of what you would call the mob, the criminal syndicates that he was occasionally involved with. And they were cross with him. He was much more frightened of them than he was of the police.

So I, at some point, I - well, I don't - I think there were several points. I faced him and shouted at him and demanded to know what the truth was about his life. And he became very angry. And they were all arguments without - with - arguments with no outcome. They were just little battles, but the war just ran on.

And then it became impossible when - after "The Spy Who Came In From The Cold" and I made money, he wanted it - the money.

GROSS: Oh, yeah.

LE CARRE: (Laughter) So we'd never had any money in the family. And I had been - until all that happened, I'd been, first of all, a quite impoverished, married schoolmaster, and then, finally, in government service and slightly better off. But still, every gas bill, every electricity bill counted.

And then this flood of money from a best-seller, and he wanted to latch on to it. And he didn't say, give it to me. What he had was all these wonderful schemes. And I was an absolute fool on two counts - firstly, to pay tax because he could assure me that wasn't necessary (laughter), and secondly, not to invest in his enterprises, which were all pretty crazy. And in the end, they all came to nothing.

GROSS: So you protected yourself against him when you started to have best-sellers, and he wanted your money? You succeeded in protecting yourself?

LE CARRE: I suppose. Yes, I didn't give him the money. I made him various offers at one time or another to set him up, put him in a house and, as it were, pay his grocery bills. But he was an extremely proud man and had his own ways of surviving anyway.

But when he died, he had a house in Jermyn Street, a house in Tite Street, Chelsea, a house in the countryside, a third wife. And we couldn't find anywhere a penny piece to keep any of it going. It was (laughter) one of the great mysteries of life. And he'd been, for many of his years, undischarged bankrupt.

But just in this last surge of seeming affluence, he'd put the whole card house together again. And in the moment of his death, it all fell apart with absolutely nothing anywhere. Cupboards were everywhere bare.

GROSS: Did you inherit his debts?

LE CARRE: Not in law, no. (Laughter) I didn't. I inherited them morally, I suppose.

GROSS: I know at some point in your life - and I don't know if this was before or after your father died - you hired detectives to try to find out who was your father, really?

LE CARRE: That's right.

GROSS: What had he actually done? So how old - was your father still alive when you did that?

LE CARRE: No, no, no. That was before I wrote a novel about him called "A Perfect Spy." And I had these two detectives because I didn't trust my own memory. And least of all did I trust the people around him to tell me anything. And so these were ex-policeman - one very fat, one very thin. And they went off. And they kept making calls saying they'd come on wonderful stuff. I gave them a great chunk of money. They came back with nothing worth having.

However, since then, a very strange thing happened. For reasons which are not central to our discussion, I applied to the Stasi, East German intelligence, for my own file because they must have kept one because I was posted to Germany and served for four years in Bahrain and then in Hamburg. And they turned up my file, which was completely anodyne. Whatever should have been in it wasn't there. And it was full of press cuttings, nothing else. But they also came upon my father's file. And that was far more interesting.

(LAUGHTER)

LE CARRE: And he had visited East Germany legally. They'd given him a pass. He talked to a lot of business people inside East Germany - traders of some sort - and gone back to London having convinced them that he was frightfully rich.

Second chapter in the file reports that a Stasi agent, or at least a collaborator, made the journey from Vienna to visit my father at Jermyn Street - this is quite near the end of his life - and in the course of visiting him, took a minute account of how the building was laid out, made a drawing of his office and gave a description of the safe that was in my father's office.

And my father died soon after that visit. And I have no idea, and I shall never know what the intention was. But the file described my father as an enormously rich arms dealer with connections with British intelligence.

GROSS: Whoa.

(LAUGHTER)

LE CARRE: And so...

GROSS: Do you think any of that is true?

LE CARRE: Enormously rich isn't.

GROSS: OK.

LE CARRE: Arms dealer, yes. We knew - I knew - I found out only recently that he'd traded in illegal arms in Indonesia and, indeed, in the Indian subcontinent, again, without much success. But he'd been in the illegal arms industry.

I got him out of jail in Jakarta on the understanding that he'd been imprisoned for pushing currency around for currency dealings - illegal currency dealings. But it now seems that he was imprisoned because he was getting into illegal arms dealings.

These bits (laughter) of intelligence come to me from various sources. But the Stasi file absolutely knocked me out.

GROSS: Do you think it's possible that he was cooperating with East Germany during the Cold War?

LE CARRE: I think if he saw some kind of advantage - financial advantage, commercial advantage - he would make as if he was offering his services. Whether he would ever have done so, whether he had anything to offer, I have no idea.

But certainly, what is true is that they were interested in him - sufficiently interested in him to send an agent to suss him out in Jermyn Street and make drawings of his office. And it's just completely mystifying.

GROSS: That's so crazy that you worked for British intelligence, and yet, your father, in the meantime, is this kind of criminal - an arms trader, maybe, small-time arms trader, but nevertheless - and he's maybe cooperating with East Germany. You'd been stationed in Germany after the war. I mean, it's almost as if he's consciously trying to undermine everything you had tried to do.

LE CARRE: Well, I don't think that's impossible either. We - I think it became - our relationship became, by the end of his life, a very hostile one. He'd tried to bring a lawsuit against me for failing to mention him in a BBC documentary (laughter) - failing to give him credit for putting me through these excruciatingly painful private schools that I hated.

GROSS: Why is that grounds for a lawsuit - failing to mention him?

LE CARRE: By implication, he's suggesting - I am suggesting that he's not the most important person in my life. That's - this is - I think it's slightly Trumpoid (ph), if I could use that forced adjective.

(LAUGHTER)

LE CARRE: You don't need any excuse. I offended his narcissism.

BIANCULLI: Author John le Carre speaking to Terry Gross last September. More after a break. This is FRESH AIR.

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BIANCULLI: This is FRESH AIR. Let's get back to Terry's 2017 interview with author John le Carre. His latest spy novel, "A Legacy Of Spies," is now out in paperback.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHVIED BROADCAST)

GROSS: Do you look back on your life and think, I've had an extraordinarily interesting life?

LE CARRE: I do sometimes. I'm scared of being a bore about it, but it does seem to be a wonderful life in retrospect, or an extraordinarily varied one. And that's prompted me now to, particularly with this novel, to talk about it more. It has been a zigzag journey, and some of it wasn't all that pleasant.

GROSS: I like the way you say, in retrospect (laughter), I've had a very interesting life (laughter). Maybe at the time, as you were living through various things, they seemed not interesting, per se?

LE CARRE: No. I mean, I've had, really, a very interesting life. And, I mean, really, the strangest thing is, in some ways - has been the cross-border relationship I've had with the former Soviet Union.

The most unforgettable event was Yevgeny Primakov, former head of the KGB, former prime minister of the new Russia, now recently dead, who insisted on seeing me when he came over to England to see our foreign minister and then kind of spent the evening telling me about my books. And when somebody asked him who he identified with - somebody independently asked him who he identified with, he replied, George Smiley.

GROSS: (Laughter) That's crazy. Wow. So what did it say to you that the former head of the KGB identified with your character George Smiley?

LE CARRE: Well, it's very hard to say this, but there were elements of the KGB - and there still are, I suppose, at the FSB, but less so. Certainly, in communist times, there were bits of the KGB that were very, very decent, very humanitarian. They took in persecuted people and protected them. They were a cult for themselves. They prided themselves on cultivating intellectuals. That was the rare decent part of the KGB.

But it was such a big and powerful institution that it was a - there were a lot of lot of rooms in it, lot of different people. And I know that at their training schools, they offered my books as essential reading.

GROSS: Oh, the KGB?

LE CARRE: It's - the KGB, yes.

GROSS: God, that was not your intention.

(LAUGHTER)

LE CARRE: No, it was not my intention at all. But they saw some kind of equivalence. You know, in the end - and it applies to doctors, scientists, and it applies to spies - people who are using the same techniques, developing the same techniques, who have the same attitude towards human beings, who put expediency and outcome over method, they are a brotherhood or a sisterhood or what you will. The moment you get together with - the moment I get together with some retired general from the Mossad, I find we understand each other very quickly.

It's a shared attitude that creates this masonry. And it's very spooky. And it can also be profoundly disconcerting, but - because they make assumptions about me, particularly, which are quite misplaced. They have, I think, a much more brutal attitude to human beings than I ever had. But nevertheless, we are, in some spooky way, colleagues.

GROSS: John le Carre, David Cornwell (laughter), it's been great to talk with you. Thank you so much for talking with us.

LE CARRE: Thank you very much, Terry. Thank you.

BIANCULLI: Author John le Carre speaking to Terry Gross last year. His latest spy novel, "A Legacy Of Spies," is now out in paperback. Coming up, rock critic Ken Tucker salutes Aretha Franklin, the Queen of Soul, who died yesterday at age 76. This is FRESH AIR.

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DAVID BIANCULLI, HOST:

This is FRESH AIR. We'll end the week with our rock critic Ken Tucker's appreciation of Aretha Franklin, who died yesterday at the age of 76. She began singing gospel music in church as a child, was signed to Columbia Records by talent scout John Hammond in 1960 and began having hits in 1967 once she joined Atlantic Records that year. She was commonly referred to as the Queen of Soul, and Ken says there were good reasons for that.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "CHAIN OF FOOLS")

ARETHA FRANKLIN: (Singing) Chain, chain, chain. Chain, chain, chain. Chain, chain, chain. Chain, chain, chain. Chain, chain, chain. Chain, chain, chain. Chain of fools. For five long years, I thought you were my man. But I found out I'm just a link in your chain. Oh, you got me where you want me.

KEN TUCKER, BYLINE: Aretha Franklin is dead. And we still, 50 years after she made her artistic and commercial breakthrough, can scarcely comprehend the still-shocking power of her singing.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "I NEVER LOVED A MAN (THE WAY I LOVED YOU)")

FRANKLIN: (Singing) You're a no-good heartbreaker. You're a liar, and you're a cheat. And I don't know why I let you do these things to me. My friends keep telling me that you ain't no good. But, oh, they don't know that I'd leave you if I could. I guess I'm uptight. And I'm stuck like glue 'cause I ain't never, I ain't never, I ain't never, no, no, loved a man the way that I, I love you.

TUCKER: Aretha Franklin must have understood early on what fame was like as the daughter of the immensely popular Detroit preacher C.L. Franklin, whose sermons had made him a recording star. Aretha was raised singing gospel, was enraptured by the romanticism of the Great American Songbook and felt the power of rhythm and blues in her bones. She always had ambition. She was a feminist by example. Once she took hold of her career at Atlantic Records in 1967, she allowed no lyric to overrule her interpretation, no producer to shape a performance in a way she did not intend.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "SWEET SWEET BABY (SINCE YOU'VE BEEN GONE)")

FRANKLIN: (Singing) Baby, baby, sweet baby, there's something that I just got to say. Baby, baby, sweet baby, you left me hurting in a real cold way. Speak your name, and I'll feel a thrill. You said, I do. And I said, I will. I told you to just be true and give me just a little time. Wait on me, baby. I want you to be all mine. I just get so blue since you've been gone, baby, since you've been gone.

TUCKER: Franklin became a pop star at a time when soul, rock, pop and R&B mingled promiscuously on the radio. This enabled her to reach young, white, rock fans, as well as the age-spanning black audience that always marveled at the technical prowess of her voice and her phrasing. This kind of popularity meant that no one batted an ear when she covered the Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby" or indulged her fondness for Schmaltz by cutting the Frank Sinatra anthem "That's Life."

Aretha's sound predated all of the vocal histrionics that characterized the recent era of TV shows like "American Idol" and "The Voice." She could over-sing and over-emote more extravagantly than any of those would-be pop divas. And unlike them, she could also rein in the histrionics to give immensely subtle shadings to lines, to individual words.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "DR. FEELGOOD (LOVE IS A SERIOUS BUSINESS)")

FRANKLIN: (Singing) Always sitting around, me and my man. I don't want nobody always sitting right there looking at me and that man, be it my mother, my brother, my sister. Would you believe? I'll get up, put on some clothes, go out and help you find somebody for theirself (ph) if I can. Yes, I will. Now, I don't mind company because company's all right with me every once in a while. Yes, it is. I tell you, I don't mind company because company's all right with me every once in a while, yeah. But oh, when me and that man get to loving, I tell you girls, I dig you but I just don't have time to sit and chit and sit and chit-chat and smile. Don't send me no doctor, filling me up with all of those pills. I got me a man named Dr. Feelgood. And, oh, yeah, that man takes care off all of my pains and my ills. His name is Dr. Feelgood in the morning.

TUCKER: For all her regal bearing, the key to the emotion in Franklin's singing is very often her unsure sense of self. Her music regularly disclosed a vulnerability and insecurity residing within the head that wore the Queen of Soul crown. She sang with a mighty assurance about being shaken and shattered by love gone wrong. Franklin's genius strategy was to seem as though she might be on the verge of losing control of her performance while maintaining impeccable command. This is true whether we're listening to an early hit like "Respect," or her staggering 2015 Kennedy Center Honors rendition of "Natural Woman" in front of a visibly moved President Obama.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)

FRANKLIN: (Singing) Oh, babe. What you've done to me. You've made me feel so good inside. And I just want to be, want to be. How long can a man make you feel so - you make me feel - you make me feel like a - I feel like - I feel like...

TUCKER: Franklin never, at any point in her career, lost the ability to give incandescent concert performances. But that's not to say you could rely on her. Her shows could be unpredictably listless or disorganized or sullen. Genius makes its own demands on its admirers. Franklin was like her work - passionate, yes, but also complicated and ultimately unknowable. No one's voice has ever soared like this. No one has ever seized at lyrics and made them do her bidding the way she did. No one has ever given us pleasure with such full-throated abandon as Aretha Franklin did and does.

BIANCULLI: FRESH AIR rock critic Ken Tucker remembering Aretha Franklin, who died yesterday at the age of 76. On Monday's show...

(SOUNDBITE OF FILM, "CRAZY RICH ASIANS")

CONSTANCE WU: (As Rachel Chu) So your family is, like, rich?

HENRY GOLDING: (As Nick Young) We're comfortable.

WU: (As Rachel Chu) That is exactly what a super-rich person would say.

BIANCULLI: ...Terry talks with Kevin Kwan, whose best-selling novel, "Crazy Rich Asians," has been adapted into a new film. The story is inspired by his childhood in Singapore surrounded by crazy rich families. Hope you can join us.

(SOUNDBITE OF SONG, "THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT")

FRANKLIN: (Singing) This is the house that Jack built, y'all. Remember this house. This was the land that he worked by hand. It was the dream of an upright man. There was a room that was filled with love. It was a love that I was proud of. This was a life of a love that he planned on the love, the same old love, that the house that Jack built. The house that Jack built. Remember this house. There was the fence that held our love...

BIANCULLI: FRESH AIR's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham, with additional engineering support from Joyce Lieberman and Julian Herzfeld. Our associate producer for digital media is Molly Seavy-Nesper. Roberta Shorrock directs the show. For Terry Gross, I'm David Bianculli.

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