Sabina Murray

This superb, engrossing novel derives much of its considerable charm from a rare feat. Valiant Gentlemen explores utterly serious subjects with insight and compassion, yet the author doesn’t take herself too seriously, nor do her characters. And this must be intentional, because when one character begins to look too hard at his reflection in later life, the change marks his downfall.

The three stars in Murray’s constellation are Roger Casement, Herbert Ward, and Ward’s wife, Sarita. All show more three were historical figures, and Casement is particularly significant, a man who campaigned against colonial abuses in Africa and for Irish independence. If you’ve heard of him, you’ll almost certainly know his tragic end; but in this book, the journey counts more than the destination, so don’t let that deter you. (That said, skip the jacket flap, a hodgepodge that accomplishes nothing except to blab what should be withheld and hide what should be revealed.)
The journey here begins in the Congo in 1886, where young Casement and Ward meet. Both are looking for gainful employment and adventure, but since the work pays little, adventure keeps them going. At first, they toil for King Leopold of Belgium and his so-called International Association of the Congo, but then for British trade interests, both of which carry political consequences.

However, at this point, those considerations still percolate below the surface. Ward, a former circus acrobat, seasoned traveler, dead shot, and gifted sketch artist, is at heart a deeply lonely man who wants to make good. Casement, a skilled linguist, brilliant organizer, charismatic, and possessed of boundless energy, is lonely too, but for a different reason. He’s homosexual, a fact he must conceal, and he’s hopelessly attracted to Ward.

I find Valiant Gentlemen irresistible, the African scenes especially, in part because I’ve lived in Central Africa and researched Leopold, his hireling Henry Stanley, and the colonial plunder of that region. So it’s a particular pleasure to run across names of peoples, places, and historical figures I haven’t seen in years, more so that Murray captures their essence. For instance, when Ward remarks of Stanley’s latest book that it’s full of bravado, Casement ascribes that to the “typical writing style of short, ill-tempered men.” Touché. And when Murray describes the weather, and its “usual blanket of heat,” she re-creates what it feels like to be in that place.

The two men’s paths diverge, as each gets what he’s been looking for. Casement sets his sights on becoming British consul in one African colony or other, and Ward leaves Africa and gets married. His bride is an Argentinian-American heiress, so you may well ask how a penniless, erstwhile acrobat manages to attract her and earn her father’s consent. But I won’t tell you, except to note that Sarita Sanford is a woman ahead of her time and says what she thinks. When two such irrepressible spirits meet, the results are bound to be hilarious.

The marriage gives Ward what he’s always wanted, respectability. But, unlike Sarita, he calls that an end in itself, the mirror-gazing I referred to above. She’s less conventional than he, perhaps because she recalls her early girlhood, and what it was like to be poor, differently from how Ward holds onto his past and a father who had only contempt for him.

So he doesn’t quite know what to make of Casement the muckraker, who earns fame publicizing Leopold’s brutalities, a gripping subject that Murray handles with skillful economy yet raw power. Ward’s always happy to see Casement and drink with him—and the Ward children love their Uncle Roddie—but you sense the growing rift between the two old friends, and a betrayal in the wind. Sarita, meanwhile, understands Casement perhaps better than her husband, though the two men have a bond she can’t share. The First World War brings matters to a head.

Murray dazzles you without being self-conscious; it just seems natural. So it’s startling to come across phrases like “tipping point” or “I’m fine with that,” which I doubt were current in 1910, or careless errors, like “council” when the text implies “counsel.” All the same, I’m fine with unbridled zest and a bubbling, potent narrative; Valiant Gentlemen is a brilliant, magical book. show less

A collection of spooky short stories, each involving academia in some way. In "The Long Story", a doctoral student becomes lost in the foggy English moors and is rescued by an art scholar who lives nearby. She invites the student into her home, where she tells him about the death of her son. In the title story, a literary agent travels to a gloomy Irish village to help search for her old college roommate, who has gone missing from her honeymoon. In "Apartment 4D", a mother surprises her show more nearly grown children by recounting a horrifying story about the apartment she lived in when she was young and single.
Each story drew me in quickly. Murray writes about unsettling circumstances and spooky events, yet these work on another level too, that of people working out their relationships. It's a good read. show less

This is like sitting next to someone on a long flight. At first you chat a little and she seems interesting, so you don’t mind when she starts talking about her life. And as she gets comfortable with you, she begins opening up more and more, until she seems to be censoring herself less and starts saying some slightly strange stuff, but she says it so off-hand or matter-of-fact that you think you must have misheard or misunderstood. But by the time the plane is beginning its descent, show more you’ve begun to suspect that everything you thought was a strange metaphor she meant literally, and so you just keep smiling and nodding as though you are totally cool with everything she’s said, and checking to make sure that all your personal identification is accounted for because you don’t want this woman knowing your full name, much less your address, and you sure as hell aren’t planning to share a cab with her when you land, and in fact you’re thinking of having your own cab perform some evasive maneuvers just in case she tries to follow you in hers. And later, when you get home, you install an alarm system and floodlights around your house and get several large dogs and/or handguns.

And yet, when all is said and done, you still kind of like that woman on the plane. She’s really not so different from other people. Wait, seriously? If she’s just like everyone else, does that mean everyone else is like her? So you think on that for a while and then install a razor-wire perimeter fence.

In other words, this book was interesting, a little creepy, and generally a kick in the pants. show less

Katherine is rather at loose odds after her return from Italy. She meets an expatriate Russian writer on the subway and ends up moving in with him that day. They later vacation in Maine, where Bad Billy, a serial killer, has escaped prison. There's a murder, the victim left with his throat torn out. Katherine decides she loves Portland and convinces Boris to rent a cabin there, where she'll stay while he's back in NY writing. As the murders continue, even to New Mexico and Mexico, where show more Katherine takes a vacation, Katherine keeps her sanity by thinking about cannibalism in art, history, and literature. {Now you see why I had to read this book.) I actually found some historical cannibals I hadn't heard of, so right there the book was worth it. I'd come up with 3 alternative answers for the murders; my first one was right. But the ends aren't wrapped up neatly, leaving the reader to think and ponder and question things. I think if everything had been tied up, it wouldn't have been nearly as good--life never wraps things up neatly after all show less