Scoop (1938) by Evelyn Waugh — novel #257

Scoop by Evelyn Waugh: imagine if Bertie Wooster were a foreign correspondent.

• Scoop by Evelyn Waugh
• Comic novel, British lit
• Published: 1938
• My edition: Little, Brown and Company (eBook)
• Setting: England and Fictional African country of Ishmaelia, Pre-WWII
• Also by this author (that I’ve read): Brideshead Revisited, A Handful of Dust, The Loved One

 

War is imminent in far off Ishmaelia and Lord Copper, owner of The Daily Beast newspaper, needs a top-notch journalist to cover the “promising little war". Meanwhile, John Courteney Boot a modestly successful writer is between novels and desires just such an assignment. Perfect! He applies to his close friend, Mrs. Algernon Stitch, socialite and wife of the defense minister, to leverage her considerable influence to get him the job. Julia Stitch happily obliges, drops his name to Lord Copper who instructs his foreign editor, Mr. Salter, to send Boot to Ishmaelia. Salter is not in the habit of questioning his impetuous and tyrannical boss. His responses generally take the form of: “Definitely Lord Copper”, when he agrees; or “Up to a point”, when he disagrees. Salter acquiesces to Lord Copper’s choice, up to a point, and Boot is practically on his way. Perfect! That is, until his name is passed down the bureaucratic ladder, John Boot’s name is confused with William Boot a staff writer already in the employ of The Daily Beast. William Boot’s only assignment is writer of “Lush Places” a rather pedestrian column regarding flora and fauna of England. It is now, a perfect setting for Waugh’s classic satire of the over-zealous pursuit of sensational journalism.

 

It's a wonderful farce; such as this description of Ishmaelia:

Various courageous Europeans in the seventies of the last century came to Ishmaelia, or near it, furnished with suitable equipment of cuckoo clocks, phonographs, opera hats, draft-treaties and flags of the nations which they had been obliged to leave. They came as missionaries, ambassadors, tradesmen, prospectors, natural scientists. None returned. They were eaten, every one of them; …

And much more along those lines. William Boot is eminently unqualified for the assignment…and yet…somehow.

 

Waugh is certainly a versatile writer. The first I read by Waugh, Brideshead Revisited is poignant and beautiful. The next, A Handful of Dust, is captivating and depressing and both are decidedly serious. And then I happened upon the overtly ridiculous The Loved One. And now Scoop. The puns start immediately, but it is still a bit slow until Boot is underway and in Ishmaelia. It’s a lot of fun, but also rather esoteric. I’ve never been involved in journalism, so it didn't completely resonate. I suspect those who have been associated with the profession will find this as brilliant satire. I understand Waugh served as a foreign correspondent covering a minor war, and I imagine it must have been great fun for him to write this. I understand many of the characters are mapped to, or composites of real persons from Waugh’s experience.

 

I'm certainly glad that nearly 100 years later, we've risen above sensationalism in news media. Overall, a fun read. I give it…

 

3 1/2 stars

 

 

What is your experience with Waugh? I think I prefer his serious novel, but a comic romp is a fun diversion now and then. What about you? 

 

This was title #26 of 50 for The Classics Club Challenge –Round IV 

 

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Things Fall Apart (1958) by Chinua Achebe — novel #256

An African Tale by an African author!

• by Chinua Achebe
• African literature, Nigerian novel
• Published: 1958
• Awards: Man Booker International Prize for lifetime achievement to Achebe
• My edition: Penguin Books (eBook)
• Setting: Colonial Nigeria, late 19th century

I’ll let Achebe introduce you to the main character Okonkwo.

Okonkwo was clearly cut out for great things. He was still young but he had won fame as the greatest wrestler in the nine villages. He was a wealthy farmer and had two barns full of yams, and had just married his third wife. To crown it all he had taken two titles and had shown incredible prowess in two inter-tribal wars. And so although Okonkwo was still young, he was already one of the greatest men of his time. Age was respected among his people, but achievement was revered. As the elders said, if a child washed his hands he could eat with kings. Okonkwo had clearly washed his hands and so he ate with kings and elders.

He is the exact opposite of his no-account father. Shame for his father is one of Okonkwo’s driving forces. Okonkwo clearly enjoys wealth and status, but he will not be satisfied until he is one of the top men of his clan. He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it.

 

And then a terrible accident, impossible to foresee or prevent, leaves a young clan boy dead and Okonkwo bearing the penalty: seven years banishment. This sentence is imposed with no hostility, just what clan law demanded. This felt like the end of Okonkwo’s aspirations, but to the indomitable Okonkwo it is merely a setback. He and his family leave their village, to live with Okonkwo’s maternal relations, some miles distant.

 

But during his absence, things begin to change, or perhaps—to fall apart. Okonkwo returns intent on reestablishing his standing, but there are new currents driving daily life in his village now: a new religion brought by white men, and new laws brought by colonial powers.

There were many men and women in Umuofia who did not feel as strongly as Okonkwo about the new dispensation. The white man had indeed brought a lunatic religion, but he had also built a trading store and for the first time palm-oil and kernel became things of great price, and much money flowed into Umuofia.

Okonkwo did not object to the new ways so much perhaps, as he did to the acquiescence of his clan.

He mourned for the clan, which he saw breaking up and falling apart, and he mourned for the warlike men of Umuofia, who had so unaccountably become soft like women.

But… 

Okonkwo was not a man of thought but of action.

This is a powerful story, told by one who ought to know. Prior to the publication of Things Fall Apart, most African Novels were written by Europeans or non-Africans. It was considered a milestone in that regard. I thought Achebe was conspicuously fair. He did not treat the missionaries as villains, nor the natives as enlightened sages. The colonial governors were treated more critically, but again, not unfairly. Achebe weaves themes of rigidity vs. cultural evolution in a tale replete with colorful folklore, customs and tradition.

 

Things Fall Apart is a little out of my normal comfort zone, which is good reason to read it. Fair warning: This depicts late 19th century Nigeria. Okonkwo and his clan are severely misogynistic. This is neither condemned nor condoned by Achebe, merely presented as historical reality.

 

I considered my own reading of African stories against the assertion that most African novels were written by non-Africans. This sample size is far too small to conclude anything, but the African novels I’ve read are consistent with the assertion. This does not imply they are unworthy works. 

• Cry the Beloved Country by Alan Paton
• The Heart of the Matter by Graham Greene
• The Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles
• A Bend in the River by V.S. Naipaul
• The Covenant by James Michener (much later than Things Fall Apart)

 

My rating  3 ½ /5 stars

 

 

Title #25 of 50 for The Classics Club Challenge – Round IV

 

Things Fall Apart is part of a trilogy along with: No Longer at Ease and Arrow of God. Have you read the trilogy? Your thoughts? Other works by Achebe?

 

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Lord Jim (1900) by Joseph Conrad — novel #255

He [Jim] was running. Absolutely running, with nowhere to go to. And he was not yet four-and-twenty.

• by Joseph Conrad
• Modernist, Psychological novel, British novel
• Published: 1900
• My edition: Project Gutenberg Free Book (eBook)
• Setting: South Seas, Malay Archipelago, late 19^th century
• Also by this author (that I’ve read): Nostromo, Heart of Darkness

Jim, not yet “Lord Jim,” is a young Englishman, son of a parson, just beginning a promising career at sea. He is quietly confident, capable, and the very image of a man who inspires trust. Then one split-second decision aboard the Patna—a moment of treachery from the sea—shatters everything. That single failure will haunt him for the rest of his life.

 

Jim knows, with perfect and painful clarity, that this one dreadful moment is not the true measure of his soul. Yet he also knows the stigma will deny him any easy chance at redemption.

 

Captain Marlow, at first a detached observer, becomes the novel’s primary narrator and eventually Jim’s friend and advocate. Through Marlow’s layered, reflective storytelling, we follow Jim’s restless search for a place where he can prove his worth.

 

Marlow tries to help Jim escape his past—sometimes in spite of Jim himself. As Marlow reflects: 

…it is my belief no man ever understands quite his own artful dodges to escape from the grim shadow of self-knowledge.

 

I ached for Jim and found myself cheering Marlow’s efforts at redemption, even as I sometimes feared it might be hopeless, just as Marlow did.

Which of us here has not observed this, or maybe experienced something of that feeling in his own person—this extreme weariness of emotions, the vanity of effort, the yearning for rest? Those striving with unreasonable forces know it well,—the shipwrecked castaways in boats, wanderers lost in a desert, men battling against the unthinking might of nature, or the stupid brutality of crowds.

 

It’s a marvelous yarn—perhaps my favorite by Conrad yet. He writes what I call a thinking man’s adventure: morally complex, with themes of honor, redemption, self-identity, loyalty, and the painful denial (or possibility) of second chances. There are pirates, tempestuous seas, remote islands, and a beautiful girl, but the real drama is internal.

 

Conrad’s prose is beautiful and evocative, especially considering English was his third language, as the following passage, even without context (something to do with the girl) will show: 

The starlight was good enough for that story, a light so faint and remote that it cannot resolve shadows into shapes, and show the other shore of a stream.

 

Or this near the end of Lord Jim (this may seem to contain a major spoiler; don't take every word literally). 

He [Jim] passes away under a cloud, inscrutable at heart, forgotten, unforgiven, and excessively romantic

 

My rating 4/5 stars

 

 

This is title 24 of 50 for The Classics Club Challenge Round IV

 

Lord Jim is my favorite by Conrad so far. Have you read it? What are your thoughts on Conrad in general?

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