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<text id=91TT1393>
<title>
June 24, 1991: Monkeys in a Jungle
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991
June 24, 1991 Thelma & Louise
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
BOOKS, Page 64
Monkeys in a Jungle
</hdr><body>
<p>By MARTHA DUFFY
</p>
<qt>
<l>BRAZZAVILLE BEACH</l>
<l>By William Boyd</l>
<l>Morrow; 316 pages; $21</l>
</qt>
<p> For starters, take a charismatic scientist in west Africa,
someone whose fictional career parallels Jane Goodall's or Dian
Fossey's. Eugene Mallabar began by making scrupulous and
original studies of chimpanzees during the 1950s and became a
celebrity when his first best seller, The Peaceful Primate, was
published. Documentaries, TV shows, citations and honorary
degrees--even a national park--all followed, and Mallabar
grew rich.
</p>
<p> In his reckless, boundingly readable fifth novel, British
writer William Boyd picks up the story at the point where
Mallabar, in glamorous, leonine middle age, has lost track of
the scruples part of his success formula. His nemesis is Hope
Clearwater, who is on the lam from a troubled marriage in
England and working as one of several learned acolytes who
patiently observe and record the diurnal activities of chimps.
She is assigned a small number of animals who have separated
from the main group, and almost at once she stumbles on big
news. Peaceful primates? Strictly sloganeering. The chimps are
capable of killing and cannibalism. Before long, she realizes
that a kind of genocide is occurring, the destruction of the
splinter group.
</p>
<p> Brazzaville Beach can be enjoyed as a superior suspense
yarn: Will our heroine, who is no crusader but merely following
scientific principles, prevail against the murderous plots of
an evil genius defending his golden poppycock eggs? In fact that
statement can be made without condescension, because swift and
artful pacing is the novel's strongest quality. With his five
earlier books, Boyd, 39, has gained an enviable reputation as
an intellectual who wears his learning lightly, when he does not
toss it aside completely. Stars and Bars was a smart send-up of
both British and American roads to corruption. The New
Confessions turned a dubious premise, a reprise of Jean-Jacques
Rousseau's life, into a fluent book that is both romp and
rumination. His new book is not so bumptiously funny as previous
ones, but the author cannot resist a few energizing japes.
</p>
<p> The chimps and their keepers are not the only ones at war
here. Various local factions are engaged in obscure hostilities
that threaten the flow of money into Mallabar's coffers, and at
one point Hope and a fellow researcher are kidnapped by an
armed student volleyball team. Boyd also tries his hand at a
fashionable fictional device--passages of italicized
commentary interspersed through the narrative. He doesn't need
this kind of frill, but when he is not being pompous, he makes
his point: the chapter in which Hope is kidnapped by the
volleyballers is preceded by a deadpan account of the sport's
origins in Massachusetts in 1895.
</p>
<p> But the author has a bigger target in mind than literary
devices. Both Mallabar and John Clearwater, Hope's mathematician
husband, are scientists who become so obsessed with their
theories that they lose their grip on real life. Hope, whose
previous job had been classifying 147 ancient hedgerows in south
Dorset, falls in love with John's billowing dreams: "What I want
to do," he says, "is write the geometry of a wave."
</p>
<p> Alas, John cannot give a structure to his visions and
watches helplessly as they vanish. Hope flees to Africa, but he
continues to haunt her. There could be pathos in the decline of
a man who wanted nothing dishonorable, just to be the renowned
theorist of the Clearwater Set, but Boyd is too tough for that.
John's descent into a watery grave is marked by heartless, droll
milestones: he gives up drinking; he becomes an insatiable movie
buff, sitting in the front row if possible; he reads only
mystery novels, traveling with three dozen at a time; he starts
digging holes; he digs a trench. And so passes his life away.
</p>
<p> There is no doubt that Boyd is a gutsy writer, but in
electing to tell his story largely through a woman's eyes, he
takes an unusual chance. The past two decades have seen an
unprecedented examination of a woman's consciousness, led not
only by feminists but also by imaginative writers. Who is a
woman and what does she want are hard questions to answer these
days. Is Hope convincingly female? As a capable, active,
admirably pragmatic person, she functions well as the
centerpiece of an adventure. As a wife or a lover--sex is
mercifully kept to a minimum--she is less believable. As a
ponderer, someone who believes with Socrates that the unexamined
life is not worth living, she is, well, William Boyd, and for
the reader that is good company to keep.
</p>
</body></article>
</text>