This is the Nashville writer’s fourth novel, and her first to win major awards (the PEN/Faulkner and the Orange Prize for fiction). The president of an impoverished South American country, beset by internal crises and the constant threat of coup d'etat, hosts a dinner party for various ambassadors, the guest of honour being Japanese businessman Katsumi Hosokawa, CEO of Nansei Corporation. The idea is to get him to open a number of factories there, producing electrical components, to re-invigorate the job market. The sweetener for the deal is a world-famous opera diva from America, Roxane Coss, flown in en route to Europe at phenomenal expense to the national economy. Halfway through the evening, revolutionaries overrun the estate and take upwards of forty international dignitaries hostage. What follows is a siege that becomes a way of life, and eventually, irrevocably, transforms all caught up in it.
For a start, the country’s president – the terrorists’ main target – isn’t even in attendance. He’s at home watching his favourite soap drama on TV. The vice-president is the official in charge, a thoughtful man whose intellect and sensitivity were just humble enough to secure his political position, but ensure that real power remains beyond his grasp. The Red Cross mediator brought in to negotiate is a Swiss tourist who just wants to get home to his family. The leader of the armed group, a man struck down by the shingles that creep across his face into his eyes, is forever underestimated by the authorities outside – they are just glad he represents a minor faction and not La Direccion Autentica, the anarchist organisation everyone at first assumed was in charge.
Arguably the most important character – certainly from the others' points of view – is Mr Hosokawa’s soft-spoken translator, Gen. A multi-linguist and skilled disseminator of the truth, the young Japanese becomes a precious cipher for the hostages and their captors, and a marvellous cable for them all to reach the reader. Through him, the babble of French, Spanish, Russian, Italian, and German becomes a cacophony of deep meaning. More amazingly, the people in the house begin to communicate with each other by different means. Chess, cookery, athletics – even Love features prominently in the languages of a Babel Tower that springs from their shared incarceration. As the boundaries that separate terrorist and hostage begin to erode, a kind of paradise is formed inside the house, and even the most pragmatic of them begins to believe that nothing can break the spell they have accidentally woven.
However, Patchett the author is not susceptible to the delusion shared by her characters. As the novel progresses, and relationships grow closer, the reader can never wholly shake the feeling that the spell cannot last forever, no matter how sweet it feels. The ending will shatter the windows of the house in moments, and hearts will break, their tiny screams drowned in the din of gunfire. That much is made clear in the first few pages of the book – but the reader will try not to believe it, even when it is happening.
A truly excellent book, full of people attempting to make sense of each other and themselves, that gives a sharp insight into how, at heart, humans are really all the same in the dark, regardless of culture, language, status or family.
One small caveat for those tempted to plunge in: under no circumstances read the Epilogue. For whatever reason, Patchett chooses to throw away almost all that she has created for a soppy, daft Hollywood softener. It lacks any credibility, and is an insult to everything that has gone before. Obviously, writing that is a good way to make sure everyone reads it – I’m in a Catch-22 here. Well, if you cannot resist the urge, I suggest you view it as a dream dreamt by one of the survivors – or just remember that I Told You So.
Tobytook
For a start, the country’s president – the terrorists’ main target – isn’t even in attendance. He’s at home watching his favourite soap drama on TV. The vice-president is the official in charge, a thoughtful man whose intellect and sensitivity were just humble enough to secure his political position, but ensure that real power remains beyond his grasp. The Red Cross mediator brought in to negotiate is a Swiss tourist who just wants to get home to his family. The leader of the armed group, a man struck down by the shingles that creep across his face into his eyes, is forever underestimated by the authorities outside – they are just glad he represents a minor faction and not La Direccion Autentica, the anarchist organisation everyone at first assumed was in charge.
Arguably the most important character – certainly from the others' points of view – is Mr Hosokawa’s soft-spoken translator, Gen. A multi-linguist and skilled disseminator of the truth, the young Japanese becomes a precious cipher for the hostages and their captors, and a marvellous cable for them all to reach the reader. Through him, the babble of French, Spanish, Russian, Italian, and German becomes a cacophony of deep meaning. More amazingly, the people in the house begin to communicate with each other by different means. Chess, cookery, athletics – even Love features prominently in the languages of a Babel Tower that springs from their shared incarceration. As the boundaries that separate terrorist and hostage begin to erode, a kind of paradise is formed inside the house, and even the most pragmatic of them begins to believe that nothing can break the spell they have accidentally woven.
However, Patchett the author is not susceptible to the delusion shared by her characters. As the novel progresses, and relationships grow closer, the reader can never wholly shake the feeling that the spell cannot last forever, no matter how sweet it feels. The ending will shatter the windows of the house in moments, and hearts will break, their tiny screams drowned in the din of gunfire. That much is made clear in the first few pages of the book – but the reader will try not to believe it, even when it is happening.
A truly excellent book, full of people attempting to make sense of each other and themselves, that gives a sharp insight into how, at heart, humans are really all the same in the dark, regardless of culture, language, status or family.
One small caveat for those tempted to plunge in: under no circumstances read the Epilogue. For whatever reason, Patchett chooses to throw away almost all that she has created for a soppy, daft Hollywood softener. It lacks any credibility, and is an insult to everything that has gone before. Obviously, writing that is a good way to make sure everyone reads it – I’m in a Catch-22 here. Well, if you cannot resist the urge, I suggest you view it as a dream dreamt by one of the survivors – or just remember that I Told You So.
Tobytook
