Burma Sahib

Paul Theroux’s Burma Sahib (Mariner, 2024) is a masterful and richly textured novel that immerses the reader in the humid, hierarchized world of colonial Burma, one of the more obscure peripheries of the British Raj. In this novel, Theroux demonstrates his unparalleled ability to evoke atmosphere, which readers have enjoyed in his many celebrated travel books (The Great Railway Bazaar, etc.) and novels (The Mosquito Coast, Blinding Light, etc.). His prose is thick with sensory detail, colonial idiom, and a keen sense of place, rendering the imperial outpost not as a mere backdrop but as a character in its own right.

Through the plausible and compelling portrait of Eric Blair, the young man who would become George Orwell, Theroux explores the contradictions of empire: Blair is already bruised by the cruelty of Eton and yet naïvely steps into the imperial machinery, both repelled by its violence and seduced by its rituals and minor privileges. The novel traces his psychological evolution with subtlety, capturing his growing disaffection with British authority and his dawning awareness of injustice.

Eric Blair as a young
policeman in colonial Burma

Theroux handles this internal conflict not with heavy-handed polemic but through quiet, cumulative moments that feel lived rather than written. The book’s liberal use of Anglo-Indian colloquialisms and period slang might momentarily disorient the uninitiated, but they only deepen the authenticity of the narrative voice. Burma Sahib is a deeply satisfying work—intelligent, atmospheric, and emotionally resonant. In it, Theroux offers not just a portrait of a writer-to-be, but a meditation on conscience, complicity, and the uneasy seductions of power.

Rodham

Curtis Sittenfeld’s new novel, RODHAM (Random House, 2020) is one of her best. In short, RODHAM is the alternative autobiography of Hillary Rodham Clinton—part roman à clef, part fantasy novel for progressives and part lamentation for the Hillary that might have been had she not married Bill Clinton.

The novel begins with Hillary’s 1969 Wellesley graduation speech, with its impromptu opening a response to U.S. Senator Edward Brooke’s condescending remarks on political activism that he gave right before hers. This is a great beginning, for it illustrates the first public blaze of political acumen for which Hillary would later become renowned. In the fraught years following 1968, Hillary emerges as a reflective ally in civil rights issues and a conscientious workhorse in legal aid cases (and later as a professor and politician whose drive to help others is a major motivation for her decisions).

The first third of the novel covers her meeting Bill Clinton at Yale, law school, and eventually accompanying Clinton to Arkansas to teach at the Law School at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. Some reviewers have cringed at the few somewhat explicit sex scenes between Bill and Hillary, but they comprise just one piece of the larger portrait Sittenfeld creates to illustrate the alluring “aura of Bill Clinton.” At the end of the day, her verdict appears to be that he is a brilliant, charming philanderer—and possibly predator—who churns out Arkansas folksiness to disarm others, and whose soft skills and ability to work a room are otherworldly.

The novel breaks from reality as Hillary drives out of Arkansas leaving Bill in the rearview mirror. From there, she pursues a successful career as a law professor at Northwestern, enjoys solid relationships with her best friend and her family in the suburbs (save her father, Hugh, who is mean and cruel to the women in his life), runs for the U.S. Senate against Carol Moseley Braun, and ultimately runs for president.

This novel is so enjoyable not because it excavates any new territory about the Hillary Clinton we currently know, but because it brilliantly imagines the Hillary that we wanted her to be. That’s a heavy burden for a living person to carry, of course, but for a novel, it is deliciously entertaining. Sittenfeld does give Hillary some foibles, but not many. Hillary admits few missteps in this novel and offers no regrets.

Sittenfeld made the bold choice to write in the first-person, and the voice she gives Hillary is relatable, crisp, sympathetic, and keen. This choice affords us a vantage point into Hillary’s imagined interior life that often makes us feel like we are reading a truly honest memoir.

RODHAM is captivating from beginning to end. It is a work of great imagination that is heartbreaking, compelling, and funny in equal turns. The subject of this book is obviously not for everyone. But Sittenfeld’s dynamic prose and gifted storytelling is engaging for every reader.

Hide Away

Buckle up and prepare yourself for the thrilling ride that is Jason Pinter’s new novel, HIDE AWAY (Thomas & Mercer, 2020).

This page-turner introduces a new character, Rachel Marin, a witty, resourceful and incisive mother of two whose strong sense of justice is the well-earned outcome of events in her recent past. Rachel’s vigilante tendencies, and her determination to keep the secrets of her past buried, provide for some dramatic entanglements with local detectives who are investigating the apparent murder of a once popular former mayor, Constance Wright.

This scenario sets in motion a complex and layered plot that has elements of police procedure, amateur detection, and even broad humor. At just over 400 pages, the book is rewarding because Pinter invests in every character, so much so that the ending is a juicy and satisfying payoff.

The story takes place in Ashby, Illinois, which is where Rachel moves with her children after experiencing some horrific events in her home state of Connecticut. From Pinter’s descriptions, Ashby feels like a city about the size of Rockford—small enough for people to be familiar with one another, but enough to accommodate a range of wily characters and shenanigans. It’s a place where one can be involved in day-to-day community events but also be anonymous. The city is important to the story.

For the first 200 pages or so, you’ll read and feel entertained and curious, you’ll keep turning the pages. You might fear that you’re approaching that saggy middle part of a novel—but you’re not, not in HIDE AWAY. The action heats up considerably (in fact, there are several action scenes in this book that are superbly written, not an easy feat!), and before long you think you’ve got it figured out. But I promise—you don’t!

The story unfolds more or less chronologically, but a few chapters shift back in time to help fill in background. I liked this approach because I didn’t have to remember everything about Rachel and her life before moving to Ashby.

I love a big crime novel with a meaty, satisfying ending, a reward for all the clue-finding and image-making you’ve done in your mind while living with the characters and their concerns. HIDE AWAY is as good a thriller as you’re likely to read in 2020. I recommend it!

FTC Disclosure: I chose an Advanced Reader's Copy of this book from an array of free books on offer at a major mystery convention.

The Writing Class

The Writing Class (Picador 2009) is an enjoyable entertainment from the unpredictable but very talented Jincy Willett. Although the mystery puzzle seems a bit cliche as a plot device, it really doesn't matter as there are frequent moments of brilliant writing in this sometimes sad, often funny novel. Willett is a perceptive writer, and probably a wholly dedicated teacher.

Willett laces the depths of human feeling and emotion through her characters in the most unexpected ways, especially in the strong lead character, extension professor of creative writing, Amy Gallup. One cannot help but draw similarities between Gallup and Willett, which is perhaps what gives Gallup her human heart and sense of professionalism in its most soldiering sense, replete with duty, honor, anxiety, joy.

Gallup is a one-hit-wonder semi-famous author who is in a decades-long dry spell and teaches writing courses at the local university extension to make ends meet. She is an identifiable character especially because of the private moments of her fear, resilience, love and care we are privileged to witness. She represents a large segment of successful, single American women who lead independent but somewhat lonely lives not always by choice and not always without fear; we don't often see these vulnerable sides portrayed in such original, funny and ultimately winning scenes.

The writing class itself is populated by seemingly misfit types that one might expect at a university extension writing class. When an anonymous interloper starts leaving bizarre notes and signs to the class, Amy is on edge: The Killer, as they call him, could be any one her students! But she soldiers on, and it is in balancing the large cast of supporting characters (the many members of the writing class) where Willett stumbles a bit.

The Writing Class is a wholly original work, but for me the puzzle (and people's subsequent actions/reactions to events unfolding around it) was difficult to buy. I recommend it nonetheless for Willett's incredibly satisfying creation of Amy Gallup. And because it is a valuable book and de facto book of advice about how to become a good writer.