Beryl Markham’s remarkable life should make for a wonderful
historical novel, but I just don’t think this is it. Abandoned by her mother as a child and
married off at sixteen when her father’s Kenyan horse farm fell into financial
ruin, Beryl did not have an easy start in life.
Financial difficulties forced her into some bad decisions, and I
recognize that as a young woman in Africa who scorned education, her options
were limited. Since the author was also
separated from her mother for most of her childhood, I expected a little more
insight into how this abandonment affected Beryl’s early life, but I found the
author’s treatment of this situation a little cavalier. Maybe it’s a sore subject? I also did not particularly like Beryl, who
slept with her friend Karen Blixen’s boyfriend Denys and later risked her own
life and that of her beloved horse Pegasus for an assignation that didn’t even
pan out. Karen Blixen went on to write Out of Africa and Babette’s Feast, both of which were adapted into movies, but I did
not discover her literary identity until after I finished the book and did some
Wikipedia investigating. Anyway, let me
get back to Beryl, who became an intrepid aviator and licensed horse trainer—both
of which were difficult propositions for a woman anywhere, but especially for a
woman in Africa in the early 1900s. For
those accomplishments, I certainly had to admire Beryl. However, I do not particularly admire the
author’s writing style. The novel is
full of Beryl’s ruminations on her purpose in life, and I found that most of
these sections detracted from the story, rather than enhancing it. Hemingway claimed to be very impressed with
the writing style in Beryl’s own memoir but said that she seemed to be “very unpleasant and we
might even say a high-grade bitch.” I
couldn’t agree more, and perhaps West
with the Wind, in Beryl’s own voice, would be a better book club selection
than this novel.
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