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The Lower River (2000)

by Paul Theroux(Favorite Author)

3.53 of 5 Votes: 1

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English

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review 1: OK, listen. I'm going to read more Theroux and there's a chance I might eat these four stars later, even though I sped through this book like a fevered dream and it made me think a lot. I'm going to read his non-fiction and try to figure out what this guy is about.Because here's the thing. So many perils of writing a close third-person are here in this narrative. There are huge problems with his representations of the African characters in the book, and they hover on that blurry illegible line between author and character. Yes, I am aware that authors can write characters with whom they disagree, but that doesn't mean it's safe to just assume that all problematic characters are critiques in disguise. Some authors are better at leaving the necessary hints than others.... more (Of course I'm thinking of Heart of Darkness here, because besides the obvious comparisons between that book and this one in terms of representations of Africa as "the dark continent," the alternating between complementary poles of the romanticized noble savage and the uncivilizable ignoble savage, I also experienced a similar struggle with what I perceived as illegible authorial intent.) There were hints in the book that Theroux is doing all of the problematics on purpose, that ultimately he is critiquing the perspective from which the book is written while also being realistic to the muddled, frightened states that would be experienced by a character in this position. I'm clinging to those hints for my own reading, but I also feel like there are larger ethical issues at stake for fiction writers. Because if a close third-person character fails to adequately problematize their own perceptions, then how can we expect inexperienced readers to do so? I mean, I have spent a few months in Mozambique not too far from the river basin where this book is set, and I know Sena people, and so I have at least a few threads of context and counterpoint to draw upon as I read the book; it's possible that I have access to some subtext that other readers might not. But for readers without context and counterpoint, the book could easily seem like a straightforward narrative. So is that the author's fault? If some readers absorb the stereotypes and prejudice (and why wouldn't they, since stereotypes and prejudice are so often the name of the game for Western media delivering Africa to a Western audience), is the author guilty of propagating and reinforcing those stereotypes EVEN IF his aims were something different? This review is a mess. Sorry. The thing is that unreliable narrators are my favorite conceit but sometimes they make me feel very worried. Especially when they are done in the third person--maybe it is easier for a reader to assume the tacit endorsement of the author in third person than in first? But is that the author's responsibility, ultimately? How much can and should authors trust their readers? Someone talk me through this.Ultimately my reading hinges entirely on the third-to-last page. Because of that page, I believe The Lower River is critique and I'm dropping all these stars on the table. But watch out, Mr. Theroux: If I find out you're actually an ethnocentric misogynist, I'll take these stars away so quick your head will spin.
review 2: This is the sort of book that makes Goodreads stars, which indicate levels of enjoyment, irrelevant. The protagonist embarks on an ordeal of his own making (and the reader shares his ordeal). What he learns about himself and other humans baffles more than enlightens. Zizi and her grandmother are exceptions in this story; they are powerless, yet powerful in their capacity to love and I think Theroux makes an interesting point here; people who can hang onto that no matter what their circumstances are the strong ones rather than those who will commit any act in order to survive. As I mused in a 'progress' report, this book brings Heart of Darkness to mind, but Theroux's peculiarly ironic voice is both less serious and dignified, and more desperate, than Conrad's. Maybe the world is truly more absurd now. less

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