A big, ambitious novel that doesn’t read like one. There are no pretensions here. Lanchester’s prose is so clean and his style seems so effortless that one begins to underestimate the real achievement: In four personal narratives from four engaging characters, Lanchester chronicles the history of Hong Kong in the 20th century. Wow. He makes it look so easy.
You will meet Dawn Stone, the hilariously self-deprecating and man-weary writer for the Thatcher-era British tabloids who stumbles her way to the top of a Hong Kong media empire. There is Tom Stewart, the son of a British pub owner who goes to Hong Kong in 1938 to seek his fortune, and finds it with the aid of a quickie course in Chinese on the boat from England. There is Sister Maria, the Chinese nun who was Tom’s teacher and who, somewhat expectedly, falls in love with him. I won’t reveal Narrator #4, but it’s a nice surprise when the time comes.
Lanchester was brought up in Hong Kong; his knowledge of the place is impressive. And what better setting to explore his fascination with money and its effect, good and bad, on those who pursue it? Ms. Stone describes Hong Kong as the "purest free-market economy in the world;" another character, more descriptively, call it a "money typhoon." (The image of plate-glass-window-as-urinal in the men's room of the swank club atop a harbor high-rise, where gentlemen can imagine the thrill of peeing on the peons below, is a perfect emblem of Lanchester's wry view of capitalist economy.) Money and the human response to it also appear to be key to Lanchester’s latest book, Capital, which I am eager to start as soon as I finish this review!
I would have been satisfied if the novel had focused on the affable Tom Stewart and his relationship with Sister Maria. The secondary characters surrounding them during the WWII period in Hong Kong are fascinating, and the description of the Japanese invasion of the island—from Tom’s point of view—deserves special mention. I love Stewart’s understatement when he says simply on the day of British surrender: “Then I made a white flag out of a towel and went out to find a Japanese officer. The soldiers subjected me to certain indignities.” End of chapter.
Nonetheless, Lanchester’s canvas is bigger than a mere love story between a capitalist and a nun. The main character here is the island of Hong Kong, the color, corruption, beauty and stink that characterize it. My one quibble is the packaging of the novel; the cover looks as if it encloses a story of war-torn romance, and the book is so much more than that. The title itself conveys Lanchester’s sly humor. Hong Kong translates to “fragrant harbor,” but as the author points out, the harbor hasn’t been fragrant since at least 1938, when modern industrialization began to take its inevitable hold.
I hope I get to the island sometime in this lifetime, but if not, Lanchester's novel has left me with a pretty solid impression of what a visit there would be like.