Wednesday, 15 October 2025 06:04 pm
Book Review: Allan Quatermain
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deckardcanineA decade after watching a movie of King Solomon's Mines and nearly a decade after reading She, I finally got around to the other novel in the same binding. I would not have named a sequel after an already established protagonist, but I guess that sold back in 1887.
Quatermain has no quest in mind when he returns to Africa this time; he's just bored in late middle age. His old comrades Sir Henry Curtis and Captain Good (not that one) come along too, plus a new face, Chief Umslopogaas of the Zulu. First they meet a missionary whose daughter gets abducted by Maasai who have a bone to pick with Team Quatermain for some reason. When that's settled, the heroes discover a secret light-skinned tribe, the Zu-Vendi. Initially condemned for shooting hippos, the adventurers are pardoned by the twin queens, who go on to war with each other over jealousy of Curtis.
Sounds like two unrelated stories back to back, doesn't it? After the epic battle with the Maasai, I found the next part so anticlimactic that I kept tuning out until the drama returned in full force. It doesn't help that shallow love triangles never interested me, and the Zu-Vendi culture doesn't seem unique.
Any tale in which a few focal White men defeat armies of Black men on their own turf is bound to be antiquated at best. At least it's not especially racist for the time. My favorite character by far is Umslopogaas. He may be primitive and bloodthirsty, but he has his wisdom, and he and Quatermain can't help feeling fond of each other. Besides, even in old age, he's the biggest badass around, and his finale is a crowning moment of awesome. Meanwhile, the most comically pathetic character is a murderous French coward. (Some stereotypes must date back farther than I thought.)
Apart from the adventure, the most interesting aspect to me is the language. I learned a bit about turns of phrase that are or are not still common. But I had to wonder why the 19th-century Brits speak Elizabethan English to the Africans, who reply in kind if only because they know no other English way. My best guess is that it's a sort of emotional shield, keeping the listener at arm's length. A more charitable interpretation is stiff respect.
This old edition makes me feel better about advances in computers. There's a printer's error I've never seen before: consecutive mid-paragraph lines swapping places. It's as jarring as it sounds.
AQ works a little better as a period piece than as pure fun today. I'm glad I read it, but I'm gladder to remove it from my shelf. Gotta make space.
Next up is Silvia Moreno-Garcia's Mexican Gothic. Maybe I'll finish by the Day of the Dead.
Quatermain has no quest in mind when he returns to Africa this time; he's just bored in late middle age. His old comrades Sir Henry Curtis and Captain Good (not that one) come along too, plus a new face, Chief Umslopogaas of the Zulu. First they meet a missionary whose daughter gets abducted by Maasai who have a bone to pick with Team Quatermain for some reason. When that's settled, the heroes discover a secret light-skinned tribe, the Zu-Vendi. Initially condemned for shooting hippos, the adventurers are pardoned by the twin queens, who go on to war with each other over jealousy of Curtis.
Sounds like two unrelated stories back to back, doesn't it? After the epic battle with the Maasai, I found the next part so anticlimactic that I kept tuning out until the drama returned in full force. It doesn't help that shallow love triangles never interested me, and the Zu-Vendi culture doesn't seem unique.
Any tale in which a few focal White men defeat armies of Black men on their own turf is bound to be antiquated at best. At least it's not especially racist for the time. My favorite character by far is Umslopogaas. He may be primitive and bloodthirsty, but he has his wisdom, and he and Quatermain can't help feeling fond of each other. Besides, even in old age, he's the biggest badass around, and his finale is a crowning moment of awesome. Meanwhile, the most comically pathetic character is a murderous French coward. (Some stereotypes must date back farther than I thought.)
Apart from the adventure, the most interesting aspect to me is the language. I learned a bit about turns of phrase that are or are not still common. But I had to wonder why the 19th-century Brits speak Elizabethan English to the Africans, who reply in kind if only because they know no other English way. My best guess is that it's a sort of emotional shield, keeping the listener at arm's length. A more charitable interpretation is stiff respect.
This old edition makes me feel better about advances in computers. There's a printer's error I've never seen before: consecutive mid-paragraph lines swapping places. It's as jarring as it sounds.
AQ works a little better as a period piece than as pure fun today. I'm glad I read it, but I'm gladder to remove it from my shelf. Gotta make space.
Next up is Silvia Moreno-Garcia's Mexican Gothic. Maybe I'll finish by the Day of the Dead.