The Catastrophist

FROM OUR EDITORS

Heart of Darkness

Few literary works have achieved the sustained, unflinching pessimism of Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad's haunting tale of one man's journey into the African subcontinent. One new novel that can justly make that claim is The Catastrophist, by the talented Irish writer/activist Ronan Bennett. Here, Conrad's classic tale is transmogrified by a century of irony, Westernization, and a tip of the hat to Graham Greene and John le Carré. Benett's Marlow is James Gillespie, an Irish historian turned novelist who travels to the Congo in 1959. Set against the death throes of the age of imperialism, the new nation's violent struggle for independence from Belgium provides ample opportunity for Gillespie to explore the dark territory of political and emotional engagement.

Gillespie's Kurtz, the figure who draws him to the Congo and whose maddening attachment to the place both fascinates and repulses him, is Inès, a fiery Italian journalist, who pens fiercely pro-Congolese articles for a radical newspaper. Inès and Gillespie met in London at the house of Gillespie's publisher, and soon after, were heading to Ireland for a romantic getaway. Inès was smitten instantly ("I am already loving you" she whispers as they first make love), but Gillespie, considerably less headstrong, was slower to recognize his feelings. Following Inès to Léopoldville (Kinshasa), the Congolese capital, was his emotional plunge, his gesture toward commitment. But soon after his arrival, Gillespie realizes that he has been displaced from Inès's attentions by her devotion to Patrice Lumumba, the charismatic Congolese independence leader. Gillespie, on the other hand, is incapable of viewing the disorganized independence movement as anything more than an unfortunate farce; nor does he sympathize with the Belgians in Léopoldville, who live in cloistered luxury, walled off from the cité indigène -- "where the blacks live" -- by well-patrolled walls and their own willful obliviousness.

Despairing over Inès's increasingly distant air, Gillespie befriends an American named Stipe, who is in the Congo to promote American security interests, as well as Stipe's loyal, ambitious driver, Auguste. Stipe feeds Gillespie information about the imminence of an uprising, allowing him to complete some lucrative freelance pieces, while Auguste shares his dreams about having an office on Fifth Avenue.

These bonds prove fragile, however, and dissolve once the independence movement comes to a violent, chaotic boil. Inès's partisanship becomes even more pronounced, and she spends all her time at Lumumba's camp. Gillespie's articles alienate him from many of the Belgians, who refuse to consider the Congolese other than as mischievous children. Stipe and his Belgian companions, meanwhile, become fearful of Lumumba's Communist sympathies and begin unsavory efforts to undermine his authority, supporting the right-wing party of the pro-Western Mobutu Sese Seko instead. Auguste, who has become active in Lumumba's youth movement, dissociates himself from Stipe; entering into Lumumba's inner circle, he soon meets Inès. Inès and Auguste become lovers and Gillespie, after countless efforts to win her back, is forced to contemplate a world breaking up around him.

The Catastrophist is primarily a story of failure, both of a crumbling political movement and of a doomed relationship. (There is little surprise about the former, even for those unfamiliar with Congolese history; in the opening scene of the book, Lumumba is captured by Mobutu after attempting to escape the country). Inès once charged Gillespie with being a "catastrophist," one who believes "it is always the end." He countered by claiming that "if the problem is big&the only thing to do is leave it behind." As the events of the book lead inexorably to a series of personal and political catastrophes, Gillespie's pessimism seems only to be confirmed; and yet, tethered by his love for Inès, he cannot leave these catastrophes behind.

Thus, surrounded by zealots, but insulated by a carapace of solipsism, Gillespie struggles futilely to maintain his position on the sidelines. Once embarrassed by melodrama and maudlin displays of affection, he finds himself begging Inès to take him back. And once so bitterly skeptical of Lumumba's efforts, he finds himself drawn into the struggle, forced to make a sacrifice for a cause he doubts, a self-consciously doomed gesture to win back Inès's love. For much of the book, Gillespie's presiding motto is a quote from Pushkin, "Does a man die at your feet, your business is not to help him, but to note the color of his lips." But when he has an opportunity to enact that dictum, its guidance seems woefully inadequate. Gillespie's policy of detachment becomes the ultimate catastrophe.

"I was always too much a watcher," Gillespie laments at the close of the book. Indeed, one of The Catastrophist's finest ironies is that the journalist, Inès, has discarded all objectivity, while Gillespie, the novelist and narrator, insists his writing maintain a sense of distance. Bennett, too, is a watcher, his prose alert and deliberate, and yet for him, this policy of detachment works brilliantly. Much of the book's power derives from its implacable, steady tone, and many of its most stirring passages are the love scenes in which Gillespie's cool, measured narrative voice struggles against, and succumbs to, the eroticism and immediacy of the moment.

This tactic does have its weaknesses, however; the climactic scenes of violence and brutality, depicting the aftermath of Mobuto's coup, fall flat, as do Gillespie's ruminations on his love of literature. In both these cases, the crescendo in narrative intensity feels vaguely inauthentic. But on the whole, Bennett has given us a superb book -- part suspense thriller, part psychological study. It adds its capable voice to that unsettling opening of Conrad's own masterful tale: "And this also has been one of the dark places of the earth."

—Benjamin Soskis

FROM THE PUBLISHER

The Catastrophist is a novel of love, passion, violence, and desire, set in the Belgian Congo in 1959. While expatriates loll about their pools in a colonial paradise soon to erupt into chaos, huge crowds are drawn to the charismatic Congolese independence leader Patrice Lumumba - and his even more dangerous rivals.. "One man sees the cracks appearing around him and struggles to hold on to his lover, his sanity, and ultimately his life. Gillespie, the outsider, a journalist, is in Leopoldville for the beautiful Italian, Ines. He is desperate for her love, while she is obsessed with the unfolding drama, caught up in history, ideology, hero worship.. "In a world slipping out of control, gripped by disgust, fear, and incomprehension, Gillespie feels that events threaten to overwhelm him - as does his friendship with the amiable but sinister American, Stipe; his relationship with his canny native driver, Auguste; and, above all, his love for Ines.. "It is Ines who defines Gillespie as a catastrofista, an Italian word for somebody for whom "no problem is small. Nothing can be fixed; it's always the end," for Gillespie is deeply pessimistic and skeptical about their relationship as well as politics, while Ines believes in engagement and commitment, whatever the risks - which, as it turns out, are greater than either of them can foresee.. "As colonial corruption and injustice give way to turmoil, brutality, and murder, Gillespie is finally forced to confront what is happening before his eyes.

SYNOPSIS

Set in the Belgian Congo in 1959, The Catastrophist tells of English expatriates in a paradise about to erupt into chaos. Gillespie, a journalist, is in in love with Inés, obsessed with hero worship.

FROM THE CRITICS

Joshua Klein - The Onion's A.V. Club

The after-effects of Europe's doomed attempt to colonize Africa continue to manifest themselves in the almost constant civil wars tearing the latter continent apart. Nations such as Rwanda and Congo seem to be struggling to discover a new national identity after dealing for so long with the imposition of false borders and--perhaps worse--false hopes at the hands and mouths of their erstwhile invaders. In both cases, a good deal of blame falls on the Belgians, one of the more egregious of Africa's would-be settlers, conquerors, and exploiters. Just as Philip Gourevitch's non-fiction book We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families illustrates Rwanda's troubled relationship with Belgium, Ronan Bennett's excellent new novel The Catastrophist provides a glimpse at what went wrong in the Belgian Congo.

Recalling some of the works of Graham Greene and E.M. Forster, the book sets obsessive romance against bloody revolution, contorting the personal into the political. James Gillespie is an Irish novelist who travels to the Congo in 1959 to track down an Italian Communist journalist with whom he has fallen in love. He finds her actively supporting Patrice Lumumba's campaign for independence, but also discovers that their strained relationship has taken a backseat to her idealistic work toward the liberation of Congo. The more Gillespie pursues her, the more he's inadvertently drawn into the region's dangerous and complicated politics, with disastrous results for both his relationship and his mental and physical safety.

Brilliantly researched and rendered, The Catastrophist sets its compelling tale of obsession, intrigue, and erotic disillusion against actual historic events, cannily manipulated by Bennett to the betterment of the increasingly claustrophobic and suspenseful narrative. As the book speeds toward a violent and satisfying conclusion, Bennett gravitates toward the stern political viewpoint that in times of great social stress, there can never be impartiality in politics; politics eventually compels its participants to choose sides in order to rationalize the almost arbitrary success of one evil over another. Bennett's novel makes this point powerfully, through the chaos of civil war and in the uniquely alienated relationship of its protagonists.

Publishers Weekly

An Irish novelist finds himself trapped in an African colony's struggle for independence in this sophisticated and resonant political novel from the Whitbread Prize-shortlisted, Belfast-bred Bennett. In 1959, middle-aged writer James Gillespie travels to the Belgian Congo to join his young Italian girlfriend, In s Sabiani, an idealistic journalist covering Patrice Lumumba's revolution for a Communist daily. In a colony swiftly on its way to nationhood, every action seems political. But narrator James clings to his ideal of artistic detachment, which drives a wedge between him and the engag In s. While James makes friends with U.S. attach Mark Stipe, a stocky swaggerer who may be working for the CIA, In s takes an African boyfriend, Auguste, Stipe's former houseboy and now Lumumba's right-hand man. Amid the tumult and intrigue of decolonization, James is forced to choose: will he cling to his ideology as a neutral observer, or help In s and Auguste when they need him? Bennett's laconic style suits his cautious narrator precisely, recording his reluctant engagement with the Africans' cause. With deft strokes, Bennett shows how U.S. and Belgian interests, fearing Lumumba's Communist sympathies, quickly undermined his government, helping to power his rival Mobutu, who proved a bloodthirsty tyrant. This U.S. debut is Bennett's fourth book in Britain, where he's often (and rightly) compared to Graham Greene, praised both for his awareness of Third World politics and for his tactile sex scenes. Readers expecting a straight-up thriller may flip impatiently past flashbacks to Northern Ireland, meditative passages and references to Empson and Flaubert. But those seeking a well-made hybrid in Greene's mode--built of irony and commitment, political theory and garish violence, erotic charge and historical fact--will find Bennett a writer who can shock, please, inspire, disturb and finally satisfy. (Sept.) FYI: Before he was 20, Bennett was arrested as an IRA activist (though he was not a member) and convicted of murder and armed robbery, but released when his conviction was overturned. Later, living in England, he was arrested on a charge of conspiracy and served time while awaiting trial, where he was acquitted. Upon his release, he studied history at King's College, where he received a Ph.D. He is now a journalist in London. Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.

Library Journal

The Congo is not necessarily the safest place to be in 1960, as Africans launch their struggle for independence from the Belgian overlord. But In s Sabiani is there, reporting on the struggle for the Italian Communist paper, L'Unit , and English novelist James Gillespie is so desperate to reignite their fading affair that he literally flies in the face of danger. As the struggle heats up and In s drifts further from Gillespie, he unwisely aligns himself with the American Stipe, who has a dark political agenda of his own. British novelist Bennett is here being compared to Graham Greene, perhaps unfairly--the writing isn't that good, and at first readers may feel that significant historical events are taking second place to Gillespie's hand-wringing over In s. But soon the writing gathers force, the reader is gripped, and Bennett proves that his treatment is more subtle than one realized. Bennett raises important questions--should the writer as observer take sides? does one side ever have a complete claim on the truth?--and to his credit doesn't resolve them in a heavy-handed fashion. A thinking reader's thriller; most libraries should purchase. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 5/15/99.]--Barbara Hoffert, "Library Journal" Copyright 1999 Cahners Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

Irish writer Bennett's third novel but first to appear here: a despairing but acute examination of a souring love affair and its ambiguous effect on certain nefarious characters pushing the Belgian Congo toward independence. Dour, alienated Irish novelist James Gillespie comes to the Belgian Congo in 1959 to renew affections with his Italian lover Inès, an idealistic reporter for an Italian Communist journal who has been apart from him long enough for Gillespie to sense that there may be another taking his place. At first Gillespie is content to follow Inès as she flits happily from boozy white-upperclass cocktail parties to the stinking, grimly impoverished black quarter of Léopoldville. Careless of quotes, facts, on-site research and anything else that would jeopardize her one-sided reportage of Belgian exploitation, Inès drifts ever closer to the camp of independence advocate Patrice Lumumba, the same man favored by easy-going American diplomatic attaché, Mark Stipe. Though Inès warns Gillespie that Stipe is a CIA agent, Gillespie, after being flattered that Stipe may have actually read one of his novels, lets the agent feed him information that the novelist incorporates into a series of unnaturally prescient magazine articles about the independence movements. These bring Gillespie a small degree of money and fame, but they alienate Inès, sending Gillespie into bouts of dark depression. She mocks him as a catastrophist(a person for whom every change is an absolute disaster) and takes up with Stipe's African chauffeur, Auguste, a Lumumba supporter far wiser than he seems; then eventually, when Lumumba flirts with Communism, shedumps Stipe altogether. Gillespie beds the blasé wife of a Belgian industrialist, pines for Inès, but finishes his novel—when Inès appears suddenly on his doorstep asking that he help smuggle her, Auguste, and Lumumba out of the country. A relentlessly downbeat portrait of the artist as a whiney, self-pitying failure. Lightened with spicy sex scenes and absurdist accounts of colonialism at the edge of extinction.

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