The Tailor of Panama is Harry Pendel, half of the Savile Row partnership of Pendel & Braithwaite, relocated to Panama City some years back. A large portrait of the late Arthur Braithwaite — shipped over from England at his widow’s insistence and damn the expense — presides over the premises just off the prestigious Via España. The prestige of English hand-tailoring has translated into a tidy business for Pendel. He has fitted more than one president, quite a number of ministers, practically all of Panama’s business elite, and wealthy men of discerning taste from around the region. He has not held himself above creating uniforms for men new to their high ranks, and he is far too worldly to inquire about how they attained those ranks, or indeed how legitimate their governments might be. Credit available to the right customers, but cash very much preferred.
The book was published in 1996 and is set a vague but not too large number of years following the first Bush administration’s forceful ouster of Panama’s notorious ruler Manuel Noriega in 1989. Corruption is assumed of anyone with money. The deadly violence of the drug trade is also assumed, but stays in the background in this novel. By all appearances, Pendel has created a jolly island of English probity and taste in the tropics. The men who come to his shop enjoy the whisky more than the good fitting, and there are regulars who stop by to be seen and to catch up on the latest gossip, in between business, golfing, maintenance of at least one mistress, and the other accoutrements of being rich and Panamanian. Pendel hears a lot in unguarded moments, whether that is during fittings or when his clients are relaxing in the club-like atmosphere of Pendel & Braithwaite.
Pendel himself is a devoted family man; one of the novel’s first scenes shows him taking his two children to their school. His wife, Louisa, is a daughter of one of the Canal’s leading engineers and grew up when the Canal Zone emphasized the practical colonial status of the country that surrounded the Canal. She works for a Panamanian politico-businessman, and she’s a part of the city’s network of socially elite women, parallel to the men’s networks and just as riven by affairs and personal scores. At times Pendel cannot believe his luck; at others, he cannot meet Louisa’s complex and contradictory psychological demands. Le Carré only partly explores this relationship, which is probably just as well because I do not think it would hold up to protracted investigation.









