Hunters in the Dark by Lawrence Osborne
I was thinking about how I used to read a lot of Graham Greene’s novels in my twenties. I’ve hardly read any this century and since his death in 1991, he seems to have gone out of fashion. That may be because the exotic locations, where many of his most famous books are set, no longer seem so exotic in the globalised 21st century. Or perhaps the brand of Catholic guilt that tormented his protagonists is less interesting and relevant now than other au courant guilt. Whatever, I was pondering why a writer who was considered so significant last mid century now seems a less vital writer to read, when I was attracted to a glowing review of a novel by “the modern Graham Greene.”
Lawrence Osborne’s biography seems to match that of Greene’s in many ways – an Oxbridge educated Englishman who has lived and worked in a variety of foreign locations and has written fiction, journalism as well as having some of his books adapted for the screen.
What of his work, though, and this novel in particular? Well, for a start and similar to many of Greene’s books, this is a thriller that strives for deeper significance and is set in a still relatively little-known part of the world, Cambodia. Our protagonist, Robert Grieve is a 28 year old secondary school teacher from Sussex who is spending a languid summer break in Indochina. When he unexpectedly wins a relatively large sum of money at a Cambodian casino he decides to extend his holiday. He is bored with his life in England and disappointed with his own lack of purpose, and his reluctance to open himself up to opportunities and the flow of an unknown fate. The money makes that a possibility if only for a brief while.
In this new state of possibility, he ends up in the company of a charismatic and dangerously ambiguous American, Simon, and his young, beautiful Cambodian girlfriend, Solthea. Despite the warnings from his Cambodian taxi driver, Ouksa, with whom he has established a tentative friendship, to avoid entanglement with Simon, Robert goes with the flow.
After a dreamlike evening together of idle chat, drink and drugs, Robert awakens on a boat bound for Phnom Penh with only a hundred dollars left from his winnings and dressed in Simon’s stylish linen suit. After an initial, brief panic Robert not only accepts this change in his fortunes but views it almost as a gift from Simon. Some of the building blocks of his normal existence have been removed and he can now remake himself for a period of time. He takes on Simon’s name and creates a new backstory for himself in the capital. At this point, the novel seems to be a picaresque exploration by Robert of the freedom this remaking of his identity gives him; in a wider sense, it also seems to reflect the remaking of Cambodia that is taking place after the traumatic years of Pol Pot.
There is something of the everyman about Robert - he is physically attractive with an equally alluring charm and intelligence. Yet, we the reader seem to sense something hidden and undiscovered within him, and it is this air of mystery that adds to his allure for the characters he encounters.
When seeking work as an English teacher to supplement his finances, Robert is taken up by the wealthy Dr. Sar who appoints him as tutor to his beautiful and educated daughter, Sophal. Her excellent English needs little help but Robert suspects that his appointment is more to do with the prestige of employing a foreign tutor, than linguistic need. We, the reader, suspect Dr Sar is as much intrigued by Robert as we are. Certainly, Sophal, finds him diverting and they begin a relationship. She seems as directionless as Robert; having been educated in Paris she has a European sophistication but only feels at ease in Cambodia.
The story really began to take off for me when Robert starts to craft this new life in Phnom Penh. I was slightly bedazzled before that at the start of the book by the dense, sensuous descriptions of the Cambodian landscape and building. Subsequently, I realised that this was probably intentional by Osborne as it disorientates and drugs the reader in much the same way that Robert is affected by his surroundings. At this point, one of the pleasures of the book is the contrast presented between Asian attitudes and those in the western world – one is outward looking, lacking in self-pity and embued with energy, and the other is slowly stagnating in self-absorption and self-pity. The other pleasure is to do with Robert’s fate: how will his reinvention play out, will he return to his former life?
The story, however, becomes something else as Robert begins to improvise and play with his new identity. Simon, who has the money that Robert had, is reintroduced to the story as is Ouksa, Robert’s friendly taxi driver, with his own desperate need for cash – a sick wife. Osborne then adds to that unstable mix a dangerous and brutal element in the form of Davuth, a former Pol Pot interrogator now reinvented as a provincial policeman. He also has his demons but more importantly he has a daughter that he wants to get through college. The catalyst for all this action is the casino winnings. Nobody is quite sure who has it but Davuth follows all the leads ruthlessly and this leads eventually to a bloody showdown and a final scene with dramatic life or death consequences. I really did not know which way the dice would fall at the end of this story for Robert, which is a strong recommendation in itself. However, as I started with Graham Greene, I think it is fair to say that if you have enjoyed his perceptive depictions of other cultures and environments, and conflicted characters as well as the knotted tension of his plots, then this book is for you.