J. G. Farrell (1935–1979)

I'm reading all the Booker Prize winners this year. Follow along at www.methodtohermadness.com.

J. G. Farrell was the first writer to win two Booker Prizes. He won the third one in 1970 for Troubles, and the sixth in 1973 for The Siege of Krishnapur. Both books are intimate accounts in the form of a microcosm that depicts British colonialism. Troubles takes place in a decrepit English-owned resort hotel in Ireland, while Krishnapur takes place in a “residency” owned by a British trade show more company at the beginning of India’s own troubles, and is based on actual people and events. Both stories throw strangers together in a siege situation in order to ridicule the notion that the British way is inherently better than the ways of its colonies.

In both the Hotel Majestic and the Residency, the walls literally crumble around the characters, who still absurdly manage to believe themselves better than their “inferiors.” Here, the microcosm is composed of The Magistrate, an atheist and rationalist; Fleury, the aptly named Romantic poet who believes that the most important aspect of religion is feeling; and The Collector, chief of the Residency and self-described “whole” man; as well as a priest, a military man, and two doctors opposed in their methods. Louise, Lucy, and Miriam fill the roles of virgin, whore, and Modern Woman.

The irony is introduced early on, as we find that the British are thriving due to their exports of opium to China – while they spread The Gospel in Asia. The Collector, the Magistrate, and Fleury all believe themselves to be men of ideas – until they are forced by siege-induced famine to daydream of food. Civilization at first seems to mean respecting others’ religions, but then necessity drives the besieged to tear down a mosque. Finally, all must question whether civilization is truly a source of progress, or simply a sign of decay, as all of their fine European belongings are sacrificed to reinforce the ineffectual mud ramparts. The Indian soil literally swallows up all the material things that its oppressors hold dear.

The dueling doctors show that the “superior” British civilization has its own superstitions and blind spots. The two physicians wage a war of ideas over cholera: one has grasped the modern notion that cholera is transmitted through contaminated water, and that the disease can be treated through rehydration. The other clings to the outdated notion that cholera is caught from the air, and can be treated with mustard and brandy. In a moment that had me mentally screaming “No!” the second doctor drinks a bottle of dirty water to prove his point. You can guess the outcome.

More than one of the main characters undergoes a shift in perspective thanks to their ordeal. One of the most enlightened, The Collector, even questions his ideas about the natural inferiority of women, and wonders what he is missing about Indian religion, but never goes so far as to respect the natives.

I enjoyed both books. There is a dry, black, absurdist humor to both, but especially Krishnapur. The bathos of the English aristocracy reduced to sucking on horsehide and shooting pieces of statuary out of their cannons brings home Farrell’s point with wry wit. If I had to choose one, it would be Krishnapur: it is wittier and more action-packed, as well as shorter. But I recommend both for their brutal post-colonial honesty. show less

Towards the end of SoK, the once-sanguine Collector meets the once-romantic Fleury. Fleury asks him about his collection of art; the Collector says that "Culture is a sham. It's a cosmetic painted on life by rich people to conceal its ugliness."

I enjoyed Farrell's 'Troubles,' but something about it was a bit off. In part, it just wasn't as streamlined or controlled as SoK is. I was worried that SoK would end up as unsatisfying as T through the first 100 or so pages. But by the time the show more Collector said this to Fleury, I had realized what was so odd about the former book: it was a story, fundamentally sympathetic to the colonized, told in the voice of Establishment English Culture. Farrell's style is a lovely, readable combination of Austen, Trollope and Forster, as well as his own favorite influence, Richard Hughes. His stories, though, go to great lengths to reveal the bloody-minded chaos that went into building the world Austen, Trollope and Forster wrote about (excepting 'A Passage to India'); Farrel, on the other hand, writes about the (hoped for?) end of that world.

In 'Troubles,' the style seems to win out over the story; in SoK, the story and the style conflict, but end up producing an extraordinary novel that blends high irony, wonderful character development, fascinating description, and a deeply troubling, ultimately rewarding investigation of the mind of the colonisers.

And this, despite what the Collector says, is the proof that culture is never merely a sham. It can be, maybe it often is, but in the hands of a Farrell - as in the hands of the late twentieth century's very best theorists, critics, novelists and poets - 'culture' is put at the services of humanity, instead of inhumanity. show less

What better way to recover from the the horrors and traumas and PTSDs, or 'nerves' as they so quaintly called it back before they invented PTSD, of the First World War, than a nice quiet stay in Ireland, circa 1920? The peaceful countryside, clement weather and charming locals are like soothing balm for a troubled soul. HAHAHAHA no really the British Empire is crumbling into a shattered morass of blood and resentment and sectarian grudge fights, a bit like the hotel the Major goes to because show more he may or may not have proposed to the owner's daughter, a bit like Ireland in 1920 when savage Irish leprechauns began chewing at the ankles of the snotty British toffs.

Anyway, the Major's maybe-intended proves weirdly difficult to pin down before abruptly departing from the picture, leaving the Major more confused than begrieved, but a weird fascination and attraction has begun and he finds it difficult to depart, so he finds himself part of the hotel's long slow slide from decrepitude to utter ruination, and cleverly enough, the Irish War of Independence serves as an acute metaphor for this haunting portrait of the severe difficulties in the hotel trade and the Anglo-Irish tourism industry at this time. show less

Somewhere on the arid plains of Bengal lay an English enclave in a town called Krishnapur, equipped with a Magistrate and a Collector (of taxes, of course) and a Padre, a couple of doctors, and some soldiers and all the other necessary people, buildings, animals and belongings to give to thewives and children of a sizeable community meant to administer an extremely large area, a feeling of "home." As in [Troubles], the main character, The Collector, is very sympathetic which makes all the show more difference. Unlike the Major in many ways, oth men are innately kind and dutiful, and in some important way, indefatigable, possibly exemplars of the "best" of the ruling British hegemony. There is a huge house, more of a compound and a host of absorbing characters, not the least of which is Fleury, a young man who comes to court "the prettiest girl in India" and ends up finding himself. And there is the siege, the Collector, anticipating the rebellion, has dug fortifications around the core of the Residency, has stored provisions and weaponry and gunpowder, and is, in fact, ready when the rebellion descends upon Krishnapur. What is of paramount interest throughout is the changes that occur in various characters when survival becomes paramount. The implied critique of Empire building--that of making an assumption that your own culture is superior to everyone else's-- is brilliantly, slyly, tragically, and comically demonstrated once again. ***** show less