The Man Who Would Be King

What happens when you read something in which the form, public, content, style, content, and voice are entirely familiar, to the point where they do not register as objects of thought, but only as tokens of the familiar? That's my experience reading "The Man Who Would Be King." Kipling is an author who does not need to be read to be experienced, because every mannerism, every narrative move, each racist and colonialist cliché, is already lodged in our culture. I'd seen the movie, which is a John Huston epic, and I had thought the book must be long: but on my e-reader it's only 80 pages, and Kipling only needs one-third of that to tell his story. The speed of his narrative might be an indication that even for him, the subjects and show more interests of the story were so familiar they only needed to be telegraphed.

Reading is an empty experience: how can any of the reality effects work? How can any of the bids for drama and affect produce the effects they were apparently intended to have? Nearly everything runs automatically. I am not impatient to know what happens; I am impatient at my own reading speed. Nothing disturbs my racing eye. My thoughts are placid, distracted. Every once in a while, a character says something colorful, and I make a mental note to remember it, but it's so trivial, so uninteresting, that I immediately forget it: I had only noticed it because everything around it was so blank, so free of interest. Kipling has died a cultural death: the work is empty, and there isn't even any reason left to mourn for it.

But then again, this must be the experience of millions of readers who consume murder mysteries, romances, and any other formula fiction.

If I did feel anything reading "The Man Who Would be King," I would have to question how much I had thought about the books I have read, and the movies I've seen, depicting the British colonial experience. I'd have to wonder whether I had ever considered what generates the interest in epic adventures and romantic journeys. I would have to do some serious reconsidering of my own capacity to reflect on what I read. There can't be a thrill here, if everything that presents the thrill is such a frail cliché. If you like Kipling in the twenty-first century, you have to be an unreflective reader. show less

No Kings! Readathon
June 14, 2025

I'm reviewing books about Kings today. How did it turn out for the Kings and the wannabe Kings in classic literature?

Two scruffy English adventurers head to the backwaters of Afghanistan, determined to set themselves up as kings and be showered with power and riches. They succeed, for a time. When the queen-to-be bites the lip of the "king god" and he bleeds, the game is up. The Afghanis have discovered he is,

"Neither God nor Devil but a man!"

Yes, a manipulative, greedy, immoral man.

Like all wicked kings and wannabe kings--then and now--it just doesn't turn out too nice for them, not in literature, not in history.

Pretty good. Two wastrels wander out of British India into Afghanistan and make themselves kings over the inhabitants of a few remote valleys. They bring some guns, some basic soldiering skills, and a whole pile of bravado and use that kill and rule the villagers. The villagers are a faceless bunch who show almost no initiative. Despite being described as the descendants of alexander and “white as Englishmen,” the natives don’t do much to impress.

I found it funny that the two adventurers woo the valley’s chiefs and priests with their knowledge of masonic ritual. I’ve never understood the mystique of masonry. I gather it was pretty exclusive at one time, but in my experience it’s mostly old white guys.

The kingdom falls show more apart over a woman. I’m not sure what Kipling was trying to say. It could be that all women are trouble and men of action should steer clear of them. Or, it could be a commentary on the natives and that ill-befalls any Englishman who mixes with the locals.

It is more than a bit racist, but given the period I suppose it could be worse. show less

A brief, punchy story that John Huston made into a wonderful film with Sean Connery and Michael Caine. Huston and Gladys Hill kept to the outline of Kipling's story (the story is actually an outline itself), and fleshed out the characters unforgettably. This is really Peachy Carnahan's story, and his telling of his and Daniel Dravot's adventures in Kafiristan (northeast Afghanistan)is heartbreaking, despite the con artists' hubris and stupidity. I suppose this is a microcosm of the British experience in Afghanistan - as well as the Russians'. Whether colonialism writ large, or colonialism writ small, it all seemed doomed from the start.

"Not a devil or a god, but a man"

What defines godhood here? Forsaking lust? Absence of liqour? Nay.

Power in the 'right' sense. As much I (as a libertarian), wish to ignore class politics, I won't and can't. The desire to improve, make something of yourselves. The innermost want which doesn't come after puberty or such but something which has been there far before it. Greatness. This is an inherent part of humans and any system we're a part of, it's the essence of the hero's journey to me as I've seen my mentors, family and friends fulfill it with me doing so too.

I wonder if godhood is worth it though. To me it sure is.

This is a short book. I saw the movie years ago, starring Sean Connery and Michael Caine. I thought that the movie was brilliant.
This book, short that it is, packs in a punch.
It is rich in imagery, it is rich in style. Not one word is wasted.
You are left thinking deeply about the imaginary events that would have taken place in the mountains of Afghanistan.
It is a story of megalomania, it is a story of superstition. It is a painting cast in words.
It's a story for a lost time, yet one that is alive today.

This story of two English adventurers determined to raise themselves into rulers in trackless Afghanistan is vintage Kipling. It's deadly serious, yet playful and ironic; detailed, yet broad in scope; fanciful, yet strangely plausible. His characters leap off the page, demonstrated vividly here. The Man Who Would Be King is freely available at Project Guttenberg, and is an excellent point of entry for Kipling's work.