Whatever else might be said for or against "Mortals," its absolutely original, captivating prose is a remarkable achievement in itself. In an age of literature-by-cookie-cutter it's gratifying that "Mortals" got published at all, despite its being the long-awaited follow-up to a prizewinning novel that came out in 1991--practically a century ago given the speed with which, in today's fickle literary marketplace, next-big-things keep coming and, inevitably, going. Rush's endlessly observing, endlessly cogitating narrator, Ray Finch, might harbor a few unkind thoughts about James Joyce, but it can't be denied that "Mortals" is one of the most accomplished exercises in sustained stream of consciousness since "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man." Although it reads at times like a novel that Ernest Hemingway might have attempted to write if he had felt the desire to one-up Malcolm Lowry's "Under the Volcano," it has a voice all its own.
That voice is the sound of Ray talking--or, rather, thinking--to himself. His recurrent tic of groping for the right word, employing the phrase "a what" as a stopgap until he can find the noun he needs, is a perfect analogue for the uncertainty with which he navigates his two careers in Botswana (as college instructor and CIA agent), his marriage to Iris, and his unresolved relationship with his stateside brother Rex. The weakest parts of the novel are the scenes between Ray and Iris, whom Ray worships, but whom he also suspects is having an affair with Davis Morel, an American doctor recently relocated to Gaborone. Seen through the prism of Ray's uxoriousness and jealousy, Iris never comes off as a convincingly independent person, with a life and mind of her own. (Rex fares better, but perhaps that's because we get to experience him more directly, through extensive excerpts from letters he writes to Iris and from the manuscript collection of his aphorisms and anecdotes that he has entrusted into Ray's care.) Ray flagellates himself so often with the prospect of Iris's unfaithfulness that we are convinced it can't be true. It's an open question whether the solipsism is a weakness in Rush's authorial vision or Ray's tragic flaw; perhaps it's both. Either way, throughout much of the first half of "Mortals" most of the narrative tension derives from waiting to see whether Ray will implode under the pressure of his own worst imaginings.
But then, in the novel's gripping second half, Rush adds a healthy dose of political violence to Ray's existential despair. In his capacity as CIA agent, Ray is sent north across the Kalahari to track a grassroots agrarian movement lately taken to killing the cattle of the country's wealthy landowners. During this journey, a number of revelations occur that will forever alter Ray's connections with Iris, Rex, Morel, and the agency. And although once the revelations have occurred the novel plays itself out fairly predictably along the lines they suggest, in no way does this diminish the reader's pleasure in following Ray's clattering trains of thought all the way to the end of this very long, very rich, and ultimately very satisfying book.
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