Gwen Moffat lives in Cumbria. Her novels are set in remote communities ranging from the Hebrides to the American West. The crimes fit their environment, swelling that dreadful record of sin in the smiling countryside cited by Sherlock Holmes. The style echoes this: rustic charm masking horror.
all the writers who have tried to portray, even explain Africa to the western
world Cook could be the most perceptive. Writing in the first person as a risk
assessment consultant, Ray Campbell: middle-aged, cultured New Yorker, recalls
his introduction to a fictitious Lubanda twenty years ago. Raw and idealistic
he came to dig a well only to fall hopelessly in love with Martine, a subsistence
farmer descended from a Belgian colonist.
Martine was a simple soul, part animal,
part sage and, although white, wholly African in her own eyes. Her nationality
was Lubandan, she dressed, talked and ate like a local woman. She had not gone
native, she was native. The young Campbell was enthralled.
An emergent nation, Lubanda had suffered
exploitation from colonists and their successors in too short a span for any
equilibrium to be established and throughout Campbell’s brief sojourn he was to
witness that kind of transition from tyranny to ostensibly benign dictatorship
with which we have become familiar. Under a new regime aid poured into the
country, accepted unconditionally by the current genial president hell bent on
modernising: building schools and hospitals, steam-rollering his people out of
poverty, replacing subsistence farming with lucrative coffee. And there he came
up against Martine who bartered her produce with nomads and market people, who
had no use for cash except to buy a book, no concept of luxury other than time
to read it. Martine was the ultimate environmentalist, and dangerous because,
not only did she stand in the way of Progress, she could write.
Campbell saw the risk she posed to the
president and his unruly thugs and concocted a cunning conspiracy to save her.
The outcome resulted in his return to the States with a load of guilt that was
to haunt him until, twenty years later, a Lubandan came back from the past to
be murdered in a New York flophouse. Recklessly, although now a risk manager,
Campbell investigated the death, uncovering a link with Martine and his
unbearable guilt that would drive him back to Lubanda in an attempt to bring
closure as much to that misguided country as to himself.
An astounding book; the violence that we
have come to associate with despots and their vengeful opponents paling before
the grand theme of atonement and the kind of elegant writing that leaves the
horrors to our imagination. Cook’s searchlight has wandered over the heart of
Africa and come back to rest on ourselves. As he says, quoting Martine: “The
crimes of evil are well known to history. It is the crimes of goodness that go