The Siege Of Krishnapur (Paperback)

From the opening pages, Farrell builds suspense as the Victorian colony ignores reports of unrest in Barrackpur, Berhampur, and Meerut. The flirtations of the single women, the amorous attentions of the young men, the boorish and insensitive behavior of the officials, the gossipy whispering of their wives, and the unrelenting efforts to maintain the same society they enjoyed at home--with tea parties, poetry readings, and dances--all attest to their degree of isolation from the world around them. When violence breaks out in Krishnapur and all the inhabitants take refuge in the colonial Residence, Farrell turns it into a microcosm which illuminates their misplaced values and goals as they interact with each other and face dangers from without--and from within. The siege continues for more than three months, with bloodshed, disease, starvation, lack of water and medicine, and the summer weather taking their toll.

Farrell's dark humor is unparalleled. Using irony, understatement, and a sense of the absurd, he conveys his disapproval of imperialism without resorting to the harshness of polemics. By concentrating exclusively on the inhabitants of the Residence and not on India's local population (ironically reflecting the approach of the colonizers themselves), he makes their behavior appear ridiculous in its own right, rather than ridiculous in comparison to other cultures. Mr. Rayne, the Opium Agent, calls the sale of opium, "progress." The Padre cannot understand why the Bible was originally written in an obscure language like Hebrew, rather than English, which is "spoken in every corner of every continent." A dying man offering up his last, heartfelt prayer is told by the Magistrate, "Yes, yes, to be sure, don't worry about it." The heads from a collection of small sculptures of the "great minds of Europe" are used as deadly explosives when shot becomes scarce.

Through his precise imagery, his acute eye for memorable and revealing details, his unerring ear for dialogue, his ability to maintain pace and suspense, and his humor, Farrell creates a historical novel with the enduring qualities which make it as relevant today as it was when published thirty years ago. Mary Whipple

One of three works of fiction by J. G. Farrell which were together dubbed "The Empire Trilogy" for their colonial settings, The Siege of Krishnapur is masterful, though - I would argue - no more accomplished than the other two ("The Singapore Grip" and "Troubles") despite having won the Booker. Indeed, the fact it won the Booker is, if anything, misleading as to its merits, as the book does not conform with the norms for Booker winners: as one of the other reviewers observed, and if I may paraphrase him, Booker winning books are perceived by many to be overly dense, highly intellectual, and not particularly entertaining. In 'Krishnapur' Farrell's intellect remains firmly in the background, modestly concealed behind a captivating and charming ensemble of characters in an exotic and detailed setting. The result is always entertaining and never onerous.

It is a wise book too, rich with observations about human nature which the reader instinctively recognises and knows to be valid, though it remains positive to the end, and does not arrive at the gloomy conclusions which might have been provided by the setting of a starving garrison under siege. Instead, in 'Krishnapur' Farrell takes the opportunity to explore the different forms which courage, dignity, sacrifice and humour can take.

Another theme of this and his other books is an evident and profound affection for women. Never salacious or patronising, his characterisations of females are multifaceted, diverse, alluring and edifying. His biographer says he knew many women - certainly the richness of his observations upon the fairer sex evinces a life of long and careful observation. 'Krishnapur' was written in a more innocent age, before feminism in its more militant forms brought relations between the sexes to their present pitch of automatic suspiciousness, and it is unafraid to admire femininity and make a proper show of its unique charm.

Farrell was a master of 'never tell when you can show' and in consequence his writing is highly visual and evocative. Put simply, 'Krishnapur' is a superb account of how a group of people behave under appalling pressure, conveyed not in an intellectually self-conscious way, but by shrewd and telling demonstration.

Farrell was just emerging as a very important writer when he was drowned in 1979 while fishing off the coast of Ireland (some 29 Fastnet Race participants would also perish 24 hours later in the storm which killed Farrell). For those who have 'discovered' Farrell his death is an awful, awful pity. His published works - their small number particularly - stand as a sad reminder that a great talent was here struck down very prematurely. It is especially poignant that the book he was working on at the time of his death ("The Hill Station") was published incomplete. What could be more emblematic of a writing career abruptly interrupted?