by Nancy Pearl
It seems as though thrillers are totally transferrable from one country to the next—the plots of Lee Child’s sterling series starring Jack Reacher could probably take place without too many (or significant) changes to almost any country in the world. But most South African thrillers depend on their plots (or subtexts of their plots) taking place in a country where history’s wounds have never quite healed over. So I can’t imagine that Deon Meyer’s Blood Safari, fast-paced and emotionally nuanced, could be set anywhere else but South Africa.
Achmat Dangor’s Bitter Fruit is aptly named. It’s a chilling novel set during the post-apartheid period, told from the point of the view of a black attorney.
Another novel set during post-apartheid times that reflects the hold of the past on the present is Damon Galgut’s The Good Doctor.
Zakes Mda’s Ways of Dying is about Toloki, who ekes out a meager living as a professional mourner in South Africa. It’s a novel that describes a difficult life in a place that’s filled with violence, and Toloki is a character you won’t soon forget.
For me, the most fascinating sections of Richard Mason’s novel Natural Elements are the ones about the events of the Boer War, presented from a Boer family’s point of view. It’s a perspective that’s often hard to find in historical fiction—indeed, I’ve never read another novel in which the Boers come off so sympathetically.
White South African writers you won’t want to miss are Nadine Gordimer (July’s People is a good one to start with); Christopher Hope (one of the few novels that can be considered even a tiny bit lighthearted is his satire Darkest England, and even that is pretty dark satire); the Nobel Prize-winning J. M. Coetzee (I’d begin my reading with Disgrace);André Brink’s A Dry White Season; and Lynn Freed’s The Servant’s Quarters.
And for anyone who likes unrelentingly depressing books—and you know who you are—try Roger Smith’s Wake Up Dead.
Nonfiction
The never-say-die traveler-by-two-wheels Dervla Murphy wrote of her six-thousand-mile solo bicycle odyssey—undertaken when she was in her early sixties—through the nine provinces that comprise the new South Africa, documenting its ups and downs (many downs, it must be said), in South from the Limpopo.
Martin Meredith’s Diamonds, Gold, and War: The British, the Boers, and the Making of South Africa is an excellent (and very readable) introduction to the complex relationships between the Boers (descendants of the original Dutch settlers in the Cape) and the British, which heated up exponentially as precious metals such as gold and diamonds were discovered in the area.
For more recent history—set during the exciting and hope-generating post-apartheid era and the election of Nelson Mandela as president of South Africa—take a look at Bring Me My Machine Gun by Alec Russell, the world news editor of the Financial Times.
Worthy reading can be found in the many memoirs set during the long years of apartheid and after, written by both black and white South Africans. Two of the best are Mark Mathabane’s Kaffir Boy and Rian Malan’s My Traitor’s Heart.
SPAIN
I feel as though I have a special connection to Spain, even though I’ve never traveled there. My father, when he was in his twenties, went to Spain to join the fight against Franco and fascism in the Spanish Civil War in 1936. So I grew up hearing about his trek across the Pyrenees Mountains to get to Spain from France, tales of lost causes, and stories of the war itself. My father believed that going to fight in Spain was the best thing he had ever done in his life. The veterans of that war are mostly dead now, but as you’ll see from many of the books listed here, though the war ended over sixty years ago, it still lingers in the hearts and minds of Spaniards, no matter which side of the conflict their families fought on.
I’m not sure quite where in Book Lust To Go Journey to the Frontier: Two Roads to the Spanish Civil War belongs. But this dual biography of Julian Bell (nephew of Virginia Woolf) and John Cornford (grandson of Charles Darwin) by William Abrahams and Peter Stansky is so engaging and so redolent of the atmosphere of the 1930s that I had to put it somewhere. In telling the story of these two young men, Abrahams and Stansky also help explain what motivated so many other young men (and women) to leave their everyday lives behind and join the fight against Franco.
The area known as Galicia is the setting of Everything but the Squeal: Eating the Whole Hog in Northern Spain by John Barlow.This mouthwatering book is about both the food and cultural delights of the region.
Spain in Mind: An Anthology is edited by Alice Leccese Powers, who also wrote a useful general introduction and brief bios that introduce each author. It includes shortish essays, fiction, and poetry by an eclectic array of writers, including Somerset Maugham, Andrew Marvell, Langston Hughes, Ernest Hemingway, Washington Irving, Rose Macaulay, and many more.
In Ghosts of Spain: Travels Through Spain and Its Silent Past, Giles Tremlett reflects on how Spain’s turbulent history is still reverberating (loudly) in the present.
Victoria Hislop’s The Return is the story of one family’s complex involvement in the Spanish Civil War. I’ve always felt that fiction is a perfect (and painless) way to learn history—and Hislop’s novel serves to prove my point.
Although Javier Marías is a Spanish writer, several of his best novels take place in Oxford, England (and many of the characters do have a Spanish background). The elegance of his writing (ably translated by Margaret Jull Costa) is a delight. I would begin my reading of Marías with his most ambitious work yet: a trilogy called Your Face Tomorrow, which includes Fever and Spear;Dance and Dream; and Poison, Shadow and Farewell. They need to be read in this order to be best appreciated.
Other books to try include Richard Wright’s nonfiction Pagan Spain, which was originally published in 1957 and only recently reprinted; Bernard Atxaga’s novel The Accordionist’s Son; Roads to Santiago: Detours and Riddles in the Lands and History of Spain by Cees Nooteboom; Spanish Recognitions: The Roads to the Present by Mary Lee Settle (about a journey she took there when she was eighty-two); It’s Not About the Tapas: A Spanish Adventure on Two Wheels by Polly Evans; Laurie Lee’s As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning and A Moment of War: A Memoir of the Spanish Civil War; Norman Lewis’s The Tomb in Seville, about a trip to Spain just before the Civil War erupted; Tim Moore’s Travels with My Donkey: One Man and His Ass on a Pilgrimage to Santiago (love that title);James Michener’s Iberia: Spanish Travels and Reflections; and Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s novel The Shadow of the Wind, which offers a vivid picture of 1950s Barcelona.
Thriller fans will want to check out Winter in Madrid by C. J. Sansom and the four mysteries by Robert Wilson that are all set in Seville, starring Inspector Javier Falcón. They include, in order, The Blind Man of Seville, The Vanished Hands, The Hidden Assassins, and The Ignorance of Blood. Wilson is also the author of many other thrillers, including one set in Spain’s neighbor, Portugal: A Small Death in Lisbon. Manuel Vázquez Montalbán’s mysteries normally take place in Barcelona, but his private detective, Pepe Carvalho, takes a working trip to Argentina in The Buenos Aires Quintet.
STAR TREKKERS
A trek can be undertaken by foot, by boat, by cars, by skis, or (as we know from movies and television) by space ship, as well as by any other form of transportation. Here are my favorite accounts of untiring, unstoppable trekkers: these are the writers whose books—no matter their topic—are well worth seeking out. Some are more difficult to track down than others, although I was pleasantly surprised that many were readily available at the library, used bookstore, or via the Internet.
I especially wanted to bring Gavin Young (1928-2001) to the attention of readers, since his books are a bit hard to find and they’re so terrific.Young was a British war correspondent and travel writer. His accounts of wandering the world via ships of all sizes, sorts, and shapes include Slow Boats to China, which was published in 1981, and its sequel, Slow Boats Home, which came out in 1985. They’re rich in detail, filled with accounts of the people he meets and the places he visi
ts. They’re the kind of books that make you wish you lived in a time when this kind of travel was still possible (it was even difficult for Young to achieve)—although I’m not sure I could handle with such aplomb the travel delays and the fleas, not to mention the pirates.
And then there’s Sir Richard Burton, who had such an amazing and peripatetic life—indeed, one could almost use the adjective “unbelievable” to describe it. Edward Rice’s biography Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton has a subtitle that sums it up rather nicely, I think: The Secret Agent Who Made the Pilgrimage to Mecca, Discovered the Kama Sutra, and Brought the Arabian Nights to the West. If you’d rather read a novel about this fascinating man, try The Collector of Worlds: A Novel of Sir Richard Francis Burton by Iliya Troyanov.
Other star trekkers (in alphabetical order) whose books I recommend without reservation include Gertrude Bell, Isabella Bird, Ian Buruma, Robert Byron, Bruce Chatwin, William Dalrymple, Patrick Leigh Fermor, Peter Fleming, Paul Fussell, Tony Horwitz, Pico Iyer, Ryszard Kapuściński, Alexander William Kinglake, Mary Kingsley, Laurie Lee, Norman Lewis, Jan Morris, Dervla Murphy, Eric Newby, Redmond O’Hanlon, Jonathan Raban, Freya Stark, Paul Theroux, and Sara Wheeler.
SWEDE(N), ISN’T IT?
Another Scandinavian country heard from: here you’ll find the sort of moody mysteries that give you a dark but effective feel for the country, fictional histories of major events, and accounts of Sweden’s role in World War II. What was interesting to me as I was doing all my reading about Sweden is that so many of the books that have been translated into English are for children—Selma Lagerlöf, for example, whose The Wonderful Adventures of Nils is much easier to find than are her novels for adults.
Probably the two most popular Swedish writers these days are Henning Mankell and Stieg Larsson. Mankell is best known for his bleak psychological thrillers, many featuring Kurt Wallander, his main character in a series of police procedurals. A good introduction to that aspect of Mankell’s oeuvre—and a youngish Wallander—is The Pyramid: And Four Other Kurt Wallander Mysteries.
Non-Wallander novels by Mankell include, but aren’t limited to, The Man from Beijing,Kennedy’s Brain,The Return of the Dancing Master (my favorite), and Italian Shoes.
Larsson’s first novel of the Millennium Trilogy, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, was an immediate best seller; he followed it up with The Girl Who Played with Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest. For his gazillion fans (and his family), it was a sad day when he died much too young right after finishing the last book of the three.
(Both Larsson and Mankell are too dark for me to read comfortably, but I am in the tiniest minority, so try them out for yourself.)
Other crime novels to read include Johan Theorin’s Echoes from the Dead; Under the Snow by Kerstin Ekman (as well as her non-mystery novel, God’s Mercy); Helene Tursten’s Detective Inspector Huss; The Princess of Burundi (and others show-casing Uppsala homicide detective Ann Lindell and her colleagues on the force) by Kjell Eriksson; Åsa Larsson’s Sun Storm (which won Sweden’s Best First Crime Novel Award), The Blood Spilt, and others; and Sun and Shadow (and others) by Åke Edwardson.
For non-mystery fans who still want to get a sense of Sweden, try Lewi’s Journey by Per Olov Enquist, translated by the talented Tiina Nunnally. The ostensible subject—the founding of the Swedish Pentecostal movement—provides the framework for an examination of character, place, and Sweden in the twentieth century. (His other novels, all with a historical framework, take place in other countries: The Book About Blanche and Marie in France, and The Royal Physician’s Visit in Denmark). Others not to miss include Popular Music from Vittula by Mikael Niemi (Sweden in the 1960s); Benny and Shrimp by Katarina Mazetti; and Astrid and Veronika and Sonata for Miriam by Linda Olsson.
TEXAS TWO-STEP (AFTER A BOB WILLS SONG)
I asked Jake Silverstein, the editor of Texas Monthly, what books set in Texas, or by Texas authors, are must-reads for anyone planning a real or virtual visit to the state. Partly I figured that if anyone would know the best ones to suggest it would be Jake, and I also wanted to see how many of his suggestions corresponded to ones that I had already read and knew I wanted to include. I’m pleased to say that there was some overlap, but I added many books to my own must-read list, and—after reading them—heartily concur with Jake’s choices. Here they are, with Jake’s original comments in quotes.
Black Water Rising by Attica Locke: “This thriller is set in Houston in the early 1980s, and deals with race and class issues.”
Brownsville by Oscar Casares: “Short stories. Vivid and lucid portrait of being lower-middle class/poor and relatively isolated in Brownsville, Texas.”
Friday Night Lights by H. G. Bissinger: “Takes place in Midland/Odessa. High school football. Great nonfiction writing.” (And the television adaptation is pretty wonderful as well.)
The Gay Place by Billy Lee Brammer: “Sort of Texas’s All the King’s Men.”
George Washington Gómez by Américo Paredes:“Set in 1914 in Texas along the U.S.-Mexico border. Many of the issues raised in the book are, alas, still issues. Also, his incredible book of folklore/ history/musicology With His Pistol in His Hand, one of the best nonfiction books about Texas you’ll ever read.”
Horseman, Pass By and The Last Picture Show by Larry McMurtry, followed by his slim book of essays about Texas, In a Narrow Grave: “Reading this trio gives you a perfect sense of the transition from small towns to cities. And then there’s Lonesome Dove, of course, which is amazing.” I would also add my three favorite McMurtry novels: Moving On; its sort-of sequel, Terms of Endearment; and All My Friends Are Going to Be Strangers.
The Last Known Residence of Mickey Acuña by Dagoberto Gilb: “Set in the area in and around El Paso. Great Tex-Mex voice that slides between English and Spanish. Gilb is one of the best writers in Texas today.”
Strange Peaches by Edwin Shrake: “For a sense of Dallas in the early 1960s around the time of the JFK assassination. Eye-opening.”
The Time It Never Rained by Elmer Kelton: “Classic portrait of ranching life in the southern plains. Not the old-timey stuff of cowboys and trail drives, but the real deal: struggling to pay bills and keep things going through the terrible drought of the 1950s. Kelton was the son of a ranch foreman and an agricultural reporter for the San Angelo Standard-Times for forty years.”
Waterloo by Karen Olsson:“For a picture of modern-day Austin.”
I’d also add that for a picture of frontier Texas in the last years of the Civil War, you don’t want to miss Paulette Jiles’s The Color of Lightning.
Incidentally, Jake was clearly too modest to mention his own book, set in the southwest (especially Texas and Mexico), Nothing Happened and Then It Did. It’s set in the present, and melds fiction and nonfiction so cleverly that it’s impossible to really be certain which is which. I’ll be interested to see where libraries and bookstores decide to shelve it: a novel or not?
THAI TALES
I have to be honest and say that I really have no great desire to spend time in Thailand. What’s a bit odd about this fact is that several of my favorite thriller writers—John Burdett and Christopher G. Moore among them—happen to set their books there. On the other hand, the picture of Thailand (especially Bangkok) that these authors present is hyper-violent and utterly grungy. But gosh, for some reason that I really don’t care to explore, I really enjoy reading them, at least until they cross over that invisible line in my mind and the violence and grunge become more than I bear.
So if you like your suspense novels set in exotic locales; if you enjoy a sympathetic, all-too-human protagonist; and (this especially) if you don’t mind (or have a high tolerance for) grisly and gruesome crimes, you won’t want to miss John Burdett’s series beginning with Bangkok 8 and Bangkok Tattoo. Thai police detective Sonchai Jitpleecheep stars in these fast-moving more-or-less mysteries that are distinguished by smart (frequently witty) dialogue, a terrific depiction of place, and plot twists g
alore. The first involves jade smuggling, sexually deviant behavior, and death by snake venom, while the second features the ghastly murder of a CIA agent; both crimes send Sonchai (who struggles to reconcile his Buddhist beliefs with his knowledge of humanity at its worst) deep into the criminal and sexual underworld of Thailand’s biggest city. I was totally won over by the character of Sonchai as well as Burdett’s smooth writing.
The protagonist of Christopher G. Moore’s series is Vincent Calvino, a disbarred American lawyer who sells his services as a private investigator in Bangkok. Start with Spirit House, and work forward from there. Moore himself has lived in Bangkok for two decades or so, and the descriptions of the city are themselves worth the price of the book. Oh yes, and the plots are utterly compelling.
Since the first-person narrator in Mischa Berlinski’s Fieldwork is named Mischa Berlinski, readers might be forgiven for thinking that it’s actually a memoir about the author’s experiences living in Thailand. That you come away from the book feeling like you’ve learned a lot compounds that belief. But it is definitely a novel—and an absorbing one, at that. When his girlfriend gets a job teaching in northern Thailand, Mischa decides to go with her, spending his time (and earning a meager living) freelancing for an English-language newspaper. He hears from an old friend and fellow ex-pat about Martiya van der Leun, an American anthropologist who’s committed suicide in a Thai prison where she was serving a life sentence for murder. Mischa’s interest (soon an obsession) in the mystery surrounding Martiya’s life and death leads him to the Walker family, three generations of missionaries working to convert the Thai hill tribes to Christianity, and to the Diyalos, the hill tribe that was the subject of Martiya’s PhD dissertation. For me, the novel worked on three levels. First, it’s a wonderfully written, satisfyingly complex why-dunit, as we follow Mischa in his attempt to understand why Martiya ended up in prison. Second, it’s a great character-driven novel, as Berlinski offers sympathetic portrayals of both the Walkers and the tribespeople they love, and whose souls they want to save for Jesus.The Diyalos in particular, although they are entirely a figment of Berlinski’s (the author’s, not the character’s) imagination, are presented so vividly that their customs, beliefs, and way of life seem quite real. Third, the novel is, despite Martiya’s ultimate fate, a tribute to anthropologists and the work they do. Reading Fieldwork made me wish I had taken more anthropology courses in college, and finishing it sent me to the library in search of many of the books mentioned in Berlinski’s notes on the sources for the novel.