An Ice-Cream War by William Boyd (1982)

Nothing today had been remotely how he imagined it would be; nothing in his education or training had prepared him for the utter randomness and total contingency of events.
(Gabriel Cobb reflecting on the chaos of the Battle of Tanga, An Ice-Cream War, page 172)

This is a long, deeply researched and immaculately described historical novel, set during the Great War in British East Africa, filling 383 densely printed Penguin pages.

Boyd is a lovely writer. His style is clear and polite, in a very English way. It’s obviously less funny than ‘A Good Man in Africa’, which is a full-on comedy, but it also feels more formal, somehow more old fashioned, appropriately for its historical setting. There are moments of psychological acuity or observational detail or deft phrasing to give pleasure on every page.

Part 1. Before the war

Chapter 1. 6 June 1914, Dar-es-Salaam, German East Africa

Introduces us to Temple Smith, ‘a very fat man with a thick black walrus moustache’ (p.310), the American owner of a sisal plantation in the south of British East Africa (what will later become Kenya). Smith has travelled down to Dar es Salaam, which is in the adjoining colony of German East Africa, in order to collect a consignment of coffee plant seedlings. He is ambitious and wants to expand his farm from just growing and processing sisal

Through his eyes we see Dar as it was in 1914 and the arrival of several German ships at the harbour. Smith is greeted by his nearest neighbour from across the border in the German colony, one Erich von Bishop. An efficient crop-haired man, Bishop is here to greet his wife, Liesl, who has been on an extended holiday to her relatives in Europe (where she has put on a lot of weight).

(There’s a bit of backstory, which is that we learn why Smith is in Africa. He was bored being manager of an iron foundry in Sturgis, New Jersey, and had applied to an advertisement to be the manager of a big game hunt to Africa, in this case for the ex-US president Theodor Roosevelt and his son Kermit when they came on a big game safari back in 1909. When he questioned the need to massacre quite such huge numbers of wild game he was sacked but had come to like Africa and decided to stay on and try to make it as a farmer.)

There is an odd, apparently inconsequential episode, when Smith visits a local prostitute in a bordello. She is rake thin, covered in bangles and ointment and smells. When she spits something out the window which lands with a clatter on some nearby roof he chickens out and doesn’t go through with it…

Chapter 2. 8 June 1914, The Northern Railway, German East Africa

Bishop invites Smith to share the train journey from Dar back inland to the nearest station to their farms. We see the long uncomfortable railway journey through the eyes of Liesl von Bishop who is not happy to be back in Africa and, as angry women do, finds both the men pitiful and pathetic. Smith alights at Moshi station where he is met by his native foreman, Saleh.

Chapter 3. 10 June 1914, Taveta, British East Africa

Smith’s farm (which he has named Smithville) with its acres of sisal plants, barns, warehouse to house the massive decorticator machine, some tramlines. His placid wife, Matilda, and two yapping little boys, Glenway and Walker (p.45).

Chapter 4. 24 July 1914, Ashurst, Kent, England

Long chapter introducing us to the Cobb family through the eyes of the spoilt younger son, Felix, who’s just left private school before going up to Oxford next term. Felix has come under the influence of a charismatic boy called Holland, at school, and so fancies himself as a fashionable, progressive intellectual.

Holland’s sway over Felix had been established in their final year at school, and Felix had accepted it with the zeal of a disciple acknowledging the messiah. (p.189)

With the result that Felix finds his family, and everything about the impressive country estate in Kent, unbearable – his father the permanently bad-tempered retired Major Hamish; his sisters Cressida, Yseult and the twins Albertine and Eustacia; his conventional mother and his various male in-laws, namely:

  • Lieutenant Nigel Bathe married to Eustacia
  • Sammy Hinshelwood
  • the honourable Greville Verschoyle married to Albertine
  • Lt Col. Henry Hyam, married to Yseult (who, when war starts, bags a job in the Committee of Imperial Defence)

The only person he likes, adores even, is his older brother, 27-year-old Captain Gabriel Cobb who collected him from the station and with whom he goes for a swim in the old willow pool while filling him in on the latest family gossip. As part of their banter Gabriel chats about his time in the army in India where he hasn’t seen any fighting but he has stuck a few wild pigs. Felix is disgusted and asks whether they squeal. Well, you’d squeal if you were stuck with a spear, laughs Gabriel. This is a characteristically clever piece of prolepsis by Boyd for Gabriel will, himself, be stuck like a pig in the upcoming war (in Part 2, chapter 6).

This grand country pile is, we learn, the reward from a metal company in Wolverhampton which produces items like Felix’s electro-plated nickel-silver cigarette case (pages 52 and 209).

Chapter 5. 25 July 1914, Stackpole, Kent, England

Felix’s jaundiced jealous view of his brother’s marriage to Charis. He is mightily pissed off because at the last minute brother Gabriel told him he was being replaced as best man by Sammy Hinshelwood, Felix being downgraded to chief usher.

Chapter 6. 26 July 1914, Trouville-sur-mer, France

Gabriel and Charis’s honeymoon, filled with details about hotels and seabathing in 1914, but centring on Gabriel’s inability, on two successive nights, to get an erection, despite clambering on top of Charis and sort of rubbing his groin against her (still in his pyjamas) to her complete bewilderment. It’s only on the third night that he bangs his knee, navigating across the bedroom in the dark, she loses her temper and tells him to ‘come and let mummy rub it, you silly boy’ when, to both their surprises, he suckles her like a baby and gets a proper erection, which is a definite improvement, even if he then ejaculates prematurely before he has penetrated her. Sigh. A vivid imagining of the bad old days of total ignorance about almost every aspect of sex.

Next morning he reads a French paper and announces to an astonished Charis that Austria has declared war on Serbia and they must return to Britain immediately, that same day.

Part 2. The war

Chapter 1. 9 August 1914, Smithville, British East Africa

Officious army and customs officer Reggie Wheech-Browning – ‘a ludicrous beanpole of a man’ (p.338) – drops by to tell Smith that war has broken out and to leave his farm immediately. Smith thinks it’s stuff and nonsense and doesn’t budge.

A week later a force of German askaris (African soldiers) led by two German officers marches onto his land and up to his beloved factory. It is von Bishop who he met in the opening chapter. Very politely von Bishop announces he is commandeering Smith’s farm, as his men set fire to his sisal crop and start pulling up the short length of tram track he had lain down. It’s all he can do to prevent von Bishop from vandalising his precious decorticating machine. When asked, von Bishop very politely signs an affadavit itemising all the things he’s burned or is confiscating, but insists he will also be commandeering the farmhouse. Smith has one hour to pack his belongings, wife and two small boys into a mule-drawn buggy, and told to shamble off down the track towards Voi.

On the outskirts he is, ludicrously, fired on by the ramshackle force of askaris led by Wheech-Browning. Once he’s yelled who he is he’s allowed to proceed to Voi where he puts his family up at the government dak, with a view to himself journeying on to Nairobi to establish who’s going to pay him compensation.

Chapter 2. 20 August 1914, Nairobi, British East Africa

Ensconced in snobbish, pretentious, half-built Nairobi, Smith discovers that well-heeled Brits and various foreigners have set up a volunteer defence force while they wait for the relief force to arrive from India but have become disillusioned by two weeks of inactivity. In Voi he’s been greeted by Matilda’s father i.e. his father-in-law the slope-shouldered Reverend Norman Espie.

Smith goes to see his insurance company, the grandly named African Guarantee and Indemnity Company which is in fact a small office above a butcher’s shop on Sixth Avenue run by one immigrant Indian, Goolam Hoossam Essanjee Esquire. Essanjee explains that Smith’s claim of theft of his farm and equipment will have to be confirmed the company’s assessor who is also Goolam Hoossam Essanjee Esquire.

Chapter 3. 30 August 1914 ,Voi, British East Africa

10 days later. Wheech-Browning drives Smith and Essanjee in an early motorbike with sidecar out of Nairobi, past Voi. They stop in the open scrub an hour or so from Smith’s farm when they suddenly come under fire from Germans hiding in a rocky hill 600 yards away. As the reader anticipated, the Indian, Essanjee – the lieutenant dispensable of the situation – is hit twice and dies. Wheech-Browning and Smith bundle his body into the sidecar, and hightail it away from the ambush.

Chapter 4. 26 October 1914, SS Homayun, Indian Ocean

56 days later, and we join Gabriel aboard a tramp steamer sailing from Bombay to British East Africa. He had hung around in Britain waiting for news, then been sent out to India, to Bombay then up to Rawalpindi to join his regiment, the West Kents. But then to his disgust he was separated from them and posted to a subaltern regiment, the 69th Palamcottah Light Infantry, part of Indian Expeditionary Force B, and has to entrain all the way back down to Bombay and then board the smelly old SS Homayun for a hot slow boring voyage across the Indian Ocean.

Everyone is seasick. Incidents including a concert party interrupted by a rainstorm and the flogging of a mutineer. Sammy Hinshelwood distinguishes himself by his coarse stories about sex which, of course, embarrass but also arouse the only recently blooded Gabriel. He becomes friendly with the eccentric, intense Dr Bilderbeck who gives him the best advice for life in the front line: always have a pillow and a basin.

Chapter 5. 2 November 1914, Tanga, German East Africa

Tanga was a major port on the northernmost part of German East Africa, close to the border with British East Africa. Description of Gabriel and his troop loading into a lighter, being towed to the beach, jumping into the neck-high water, making their way to the beach and a little inland. Then the confusing long delay as they wait all through a hot day for instructions, their air of chaos when Gabriel goes up to the ‘red house’ on a hill which is staff headquarters. The constant sound of gunfire from ahead of them. Initial intelligence said the town had been abandoned. Now they realise the Germans have heavily fortified it and are fighting off all attacks.

Chapter 6. 3 November 1914, Tanga, German East Africa

Plausible sounding account of the battle Tanga in that it’s mostly Gabriel stuck in charge of his 70 or so scared Indian soldiers with a cheerfully naive number two, Gleeson. When they are told to go forward they blunder through dense undergrowth, are dispirited by a flight of Indian troops running back from the front, then blunder into an area of bees nest which attack and sting them very severely. At one point in the sequence of events he bumps into Bilderbeck again, who orders the handful of remaining Indian sepoys to advance. When they don’t move Bilderbeck calmly shoots one in the head at point blank range, a spatter of fresh brain landing on his boot.

Eventually it’s just Gabriel and Gleeson left as they make their way forward, are shot at by people with northern accents who they realise are the Lancashire regiment, identify themselves and discover the Lancs are pinned down by a load of Indian soldiers who take shots every time they try to retreat. Gleeson can speak Hindi so he is sent to the side of the house facing the Indians and starts shouting to them that they’re British.

Around then Gabriel sees a German officer emerge from a house a few hundred yards away, leading his men, in plain view and takes the opportunity to fire a shot. It completely misses but triggers an immense fusillade on the house they’re holed up in. When it dies away Gabriel turns to escape the house and comes across Gleeson lying on the floor with his lower jaw show away to reveal the enormous human tongue, glugging down his own blood and still blinking and moving his eyes.

Dazed with horror Gabriel leaps out the back window of the house and runs for the tree cover, telling himself all the time that he’ll come back to rescue Gleeson which we know he won’t. En route back to the beach he stumbles across a troop of German askaris who chase him, (grotesquely enough, through a graveyard), catch up, then slash at him with bayonets, one severing a thigh muscle so that he falls to the ground, taking two other severe stab wounds in the abdomen before he passes out. I assumed he was dead.

Chapter 7. 6 November 1914, Tanga, German East Africa

The Germans win the Battle of Tanga i.e. repulse the British attack. Bilderbeck is the British representative sent to supervise the handing over of British stores to the victorious Germans and ferrying the British wounded back to the ships, liaising with a German officer named Hammerstein, assisted by von Bishop whose eyes we see everything through. After the British had been forced to flee from the beaches, their battleships subjected the town to a heavy barrage. A shell landed near von Bishop giving him loud tinnitus so he asks the German medic Dr Deppe to examine him. Bilderbeck discovers Cobb is still alive though severely injured from the pig sticking he got from the bayonets and has a few words with him, in his hospital bed, before he returns to the beach and thence the British ships.

Chapter 8. 16 March 1915, Oxford, England

Six months later. Cut back to Felix who is now in his second term at Oxford. Things are not well. He continues to copy his hero, Holland, but neither of them make much impact in wartime Oxford. All the able-bodied students have volunteered and gone off to war. Felix has a slight astigmatism, Holland an unspecified ailment. Both are regularly handed white feathers by old Edwardian ladies in the street for being cowards. Felix is horribly embarrassed by this and has taken to wearing an eye patch to visibly excuse himself; Holland, true to his provocative aesthetic attitude, wants to be given white feathers and is jokily jealous because Felix has more than him. It’s that kind of jokey, studentish relationship.

But other things about Oxford are disappointing, too. Felix is at war with his scout, a wizened con-man named Sproat and his mute son, Algy. And his tutor is an ancient decrepit don named Jock Illiffe whose overheated rooms pong of cats. Once Felix read him the same essay that he’d read the previous week and Illiffe, sitting back in his chair with his eyes closed, didn’t even notice. With the result that he’s failed his Moderations or ‘Mods’ in History.

To cap it all he’s developed a cold sore at the corner of his mouth, the size of a sixpence, which refuses to go away, which solidifies into a scab, which breaks when he smiles and bleeds. Very unsightly.

So this chapter is a successfully evocative painting of Oxford in the first year of the Great War. It also gives us a Felix-eye view of the Cobb family. The splenetic Major has pinned up a big map of northern France in the study and forces the entire family and all the servants to attend a daily update on the progress of the war. The family have, of course, taken the news about Gabriel being severely wounded, very badly. There’s also news about the various other brothers-in-law and family hangers-on.

Holland has acquired a mistress in London, an artist’s model named Enid who takes morphine and makes his life hell, so he’s writing some jolly good poetry about it. Felix, very much still the shy virgin, has a crush on Holland’s sister, Amory, who’s at art school, and is invited to a party she’s giving.

Chapter 9. 18 March 1915, Stackpole Manor, Kent

Felix catches the train back to the family home in Kent. Charis is living there, now, in the former servant’s cottage, which was to have been her and Gabriel’s newlyweds home. She keeps bursting into tears about Gabriel. His father is still short and angry, but his flesh hangs off him. He looks like a demented Victorian cleric.

What a horrible old man, Felix thought. (p.199)

The Felix chapters are drily comical, with overtones of Aldous Huxley and Evelyn Waugh. Cyril, the sweary working class man Felix liked, his son now tells him has been killed on the Western Front. Felix is genuinely shocked and upset. Then Charis springs it on him that the family have arranged a birthday party for her on 29 March, he’s invited, in fact everyone’s expecting Felix to ‘squire’ Charis. But it clashes with Amory’s party. Family duty or the (remote) possibility of sex. Decisions decisions for a young man.

Chapter 10. 29 March 1915, Café Royal, London

We meet Felix and Holland in the stylish Café Royal, whence they catch a cab to Cheyne Walk in Chelsea and upstairs to a sordid flat where Amory lives and which is hosting a very bohemian party, packed with artists and models, all smoking and drinking heavily, a girl playing guitar to an adoring coterie etc. Felix is introduced to Pavelienski or ‘Pav’, the east European model Amory models for. Amory herself is a thing chestless woman who almost completely ignored Felix and is irritated when Holland insists he accompanies them to the famed bohemian nightclub, the Golden Calf, as Amory had booked a table for 16 and Felix is supernumary.

(The Cave of the Golden Calf was a real nightclub, a consciously bohemian creation decorated by leading artists of the time – Wyndham Lewis, Charles Ginner and Spencer Gore – praised by Ezra Pound and frequented by Katherine Mansfield, Ford Madox Ford, and Augustus John. Wikipedia)

Anyway, Felix’s attempts to seduce Amory go disastrously awry as she shakes him off and calls him a ‘silly boring little boy’, getting up to go and dance with Pav. Suddenly sober and realising what a fool he’s made of himself, Felix goes wandering through the dark streets of London feeling poetic and soulful till he comes to a baked potato stand, buys one, is propositioned by an old prostitute, taken back to her squalid digs, is fleeced £2 for a horrible experience, unable to get an erection (like his brother Gabriel, in Trouville) so the hooker starts to masturbate him and he climaxes almost immediately (like his brother in Trouville), ejaculating over the sheets, prompting the outraged prossie to tell him to ‘fuck orf out of it’. Felix stumbles into his clothes and down the steep stairs and out into the bleak streets. Sex, eh.

Cut to Felix having taken the milk train back down to Kent and, having been cleaned out by the whore, forced to walk through the dew-drenched countryside to Stackpole. Here he’s surprised to see the light on in the cottage, knocks and is admitted by Charis who is still wearing her gown from the night before, the night of her party, the party Felix rudely missed in order to undergo his series of humiliations in London, as he now ruefully thinks. Sitting in her small front room in front of the fire sipping tea he suddenly feels intimately close to her, his brother’s wife, and tries to stifle the thoughts. The reader wonders whether they’ll end up becoming an item, two damaged ingenues…

Chapter 11. 17 June 1915, Nanda, German East Africa

Three months later. We discover that von Bishop’s wife, Liesl, has been nursing the injured. Kicked out of her house on the border with the British colony, she spent a few months in Dar until, out of boredom, she volunteered to help at the hospital but was then evacuated with all the long-term patients to a hospital far in the south and inland, at a place called Nanda.

A new clutch of patients arrived along with their doctor, Dr Deppe. One is Captain Gabriel Cobb. He is still alive, recovering from severe wounds, learning to walk with crutches. Liesl is a bad-tempered fat woman. So pale and freckled, she sweats continually. Her only pleasure is the brief shower at the end of the day when her maid, Kimi. pours several buckets of water over her head. Then she dries on a frayed towel, slips into casual clothes, eats and goes to bed early. Teutonic joylessness.

Chapter 12. 21 November 1915, Voi, British East Africa

Back to Temple Smith. It’s about a year after he was evicted from his farm. He joined the East African Mounted Rifles but has done nothing except practice drills and acquire more bits of uniform which barely cover his fat frame, while Voi expands into a vast armed camp containing Indian force B, South African coloureds and whites, Kings African Rifle blacks, a huge heterogeneous force.

He’s been called in to meet the head of this force, Brigadier-General Pughe. He’s s short pompous man who turns out to be drunk on brandy and promptly ignores his advice about the lie of the land. Serves the stupid British right.

Talking of which Smith walks back towards the enormous camp, past the fenced areas for donkeys and horses (dying by the dozen due to tsetse fly) to the aerodrome which amounts to a big area of flat, cleared scrubland and a couple of warehouses made out of canvas awning. The entire presence of the Royal Air Force is just two BE2C biplanes.

To Smith’s immense irritation the officious twerp Wheech-Browning is dressed up in flying gear with a reversed cap and flying goggles and about to go for his first flight with flying officer Drewes. it’s a disaster. They bounce along the ‘runway’ but after lifting about 12 feet slowly sink back to the ground. It’s too hot, the air is too thin. But it carries trundling along towards a drainage ditch, pitches head first into it and Drewes is killed. Bystanders rush over to the wreckage to pull his body out but Wheech-Browning, indestructible, emerges as blithe and jolly as ever.

Chapter 13. 10 December 1915, The King’s Arms, Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire

Felix and Charis have ended up becoming an item. We find them in bed in a pub 30 miles or so away from Stackpole. They have had eight sexual encounters and are familiar with each other’s body. We watch Charis inset a tiny sponge dabbed in an unnamed solution attached to a fine thread into her vagina, the thread just sticking out. Contraception 1915. They both know the ghost of Gabriel hovers over their couplings but neither has the guts to raise the subject.

Nigel Bathe came back from Mesopotamia where he lost both arms in a bomb-throwing training exercise when one went off in his hand. Christ. The casual horror not of war but the incompetent preparations for it.

A recap of how Charis and Felix became lovers i.e. he repeatedly kissed her and wore down her rejections. In the end she’s lonely want wanted comforting. They devised stories about visiting distant relatives as excuses for meeting up in remote inns for weekends of love.

On the train back from Aylesbury to London Felix admits he feels dreadfully guilty. Charis reassures her that they have created their own bubble of love. But inside she is full of remorse and guilt. Humans and their ridiculous emotions. But then this is a novel. A verbal artifice created with the aim of describing extreme or complex emotions, all for our entertainment.

Chapter 14. 11 March 1916, Salaita Hill, British East Africa

Detailed description of the war in Africa. Temple Smith is obviously going to be our eyes and ears for this. On 12 February the Brits launch a headlong assault on Salaita Hill where 600 South Africans are mown down by German machine gunners. A second attempt finds the hill abandoned, the Germans have withdrawn from the town of Taveta to scrub country and two hills beyond General Smuts from South Africa is put in charge of the campaign. A month later, against Smith’s advice, the Brits insist on trying to storm the two hills. He watches the whole sorry fiasco and watches the obstinate stupid British officer in command, Colonel Youell, shot in the neck and quickly bleed to death.

Smith accompanies his body in a field ambulance back to staff HQ, reports to General Pughe who is completely drunk then, in utter disgust, goes into town, gets his mule-handler to saddle up his mule and heads off towards Smithville, his homestead which he hasn’t seen for 18 months.

First of all, there are no Germans there. After a lot of tense creeping towards the farmhouse in expectation of being shot he discovers that every surface in every single room has been covered in human faeces. Then he encounters Saleh, the old chief servant, Saleh shows him that a) the grave of his dead baby daughter has been opened and the bones scattered everywhere (they collect them together and rebury them) and b) the Germans have taken the decorticator – almost as soon as Smith left, according to Saleh. Smith vows revenge against von Bishop. The tone and intemperance of his vow reminded me fleetingly of Morgan Leafy’s tone of permanent rage in Boyd’s novel, ‘A Good Man in Africa’…

Chapter 15. 24 June 1916, Nanda, German East Africa

Back at the German hospital several things have happened to Gabriel. He has recovered enough to be able to walk around freely. The research base had been converted not only into a hospital but a prisoner of war camp. The British officer in charge had conceived a plan for Gabriel to keep infecting his thigh wound with dirt in order to remain an invalid and therefore outside the prison camp and in the hospital. He also suggested that Gabriel help out with basic nursing activities, for example washing German wounded or holding them as they evacuated their dysenteric bowels – because from this privileged position he was able to a) pilfer supplies and b) find out the latest military situation (which is that the Germans are slowly withdrawing along the railway line in face of solid British advances, towards Dar).

But the chapter starts a few weeks after all the British POWs have been evacuated to the coast. There is no military reason why Gabriel should continue malingering. The truth is he’s fallen in lust with Liesl. She doesn’t give a toss about him, is a big, solid, no-nonsense German Frau who goes about her duties with angry efficiency. but a few weeks previously Gabriel, dropping off some of the cigarettes he’s taken to rolling from local tobacco for both of them, glimpsed her stripped naked having her evening shower – and was seized with raw lust. Now he can barely be in her presence without trembling although she, of course, is completely oblivious to his behaviour.

Chapter 16. 25 June 1916, Stackpole Manor, Kent

Charis is finding the affair unbearable. She’s spent 18 months writing letters to Gabriel and never had a reply. She stops and feels dreadfully guilty, so guilty that she has a second wind and writes Gabriel a long letter explaining that she’s been having an affair and why – but not naming Felix as the lover, and posts it to the Ministry of Defence as usual.

As usual, Felix drops by the cottage late that night. He’s taken to doing this, taking Charis’s sexual availability more and more for granted. After their latest midnight sex and Felix has returned to his room, Charis writes Felix a simple note saying she is going away, she has written Gabriel telling him everything.

Except that she didn’t tell Gabriel everything in her letter to him, she didn’t identify Felix as her lover. I predict the discrepancy between the two letters will cause trouble. I predict Felix will think Charis has written to Gabriel about naming him and be stricken with panic.

Chapter 17. 26 June 1916, Stackpole Manor, Kent

Felix opens Charis’s letter at an otherwise typical family breakfast, reads its few lines, jumps to his feet yelling ‘Jesus Christ!’ and runs down to the cottage to find Charis long gone. Turmoil. Panic. He is of course distraught that she’s told Gabriel everything but something in the tone of the note makes him panic think she’s killed herself so her runs to the ornamental fish ponds they spent so much time mooning beside. Notices the big stone bust of the emperor Vitellius is missing. Leaps into the freezing water and discovers her body. She had tied round her neck with twine then tied it multiple times round the bust and chucked it in. She looks peaceful in submarine death, her hair floating calmly round her face. Well, this is a fine pickle!

Chapter 18. 1 July 1916, Sevenoaks, Kent

There’s an inquest. Felix lies his face off and claims to have lost the letter in the frenzy of searching for Charis, maybe in the pond. Everybody believes this except the local doctor who Charis had been doing refugee work with, Dr Venables. Venables asks him for a drink at a bar in a hotel not far from the magistrates’ court in Sevenoaks where the inquest is held. Here he asks Felix point blank if he was having an affair with Charis. It takes all Felix’s self possession to try and appear calm as he pretends to be outraged and deny it. Venables then asks whether Charis was having an affair with anyone else, which Felix says he doubts. Thoughts are rampaging through his head. The calm reader, used to this sort of thing, realises that Charis was probably pregnant.

Part 3. The Ice-Cream War

Chapter 1. 25 January 1917, Dar-es-Salaam, German East Africa

It is six months later. Unsurprisingly Felix has enlisted. Equally unsurprisingly, it’s in a regiment which is fighting in Africa and we now meet him on deck the troop ship as it steams into Dar es Salam harbour. He’s with the Fifth Battalion, the Nigerian Brigade, being cobbled together from African conscripts, not at all fashionable. But it is Africa. He is driven by guilt, the need to do something, out of which slowly formed the idea of a quest to find brother Gabriel.

Anyway, long uncomfortable train journey to a station in the middle of nowhere called Mikesse. He’s collected her by a Scot with an impenetrable accent named Gilzean. Five hours bumpy driving to a camp where he’s informed his regiment are the other side of the river Rufiji. Since the British invaded German East (as it’s known) at Kilimanjaro in the campaign Smith had witnessed the scrappy start of, they had driven the Germans steadily south and across the Rufiji river when the rains came and fighting stopped.

From this camp Felix has to continue riding a mule along muddy tracks alongside porters, sometimes through swamps, eventually reaching the wide Rufiji river, across which he is taken by ferry, then into his regimental camp, outside which porters are burning a huge mound of horses and mules which are killed off in epic numbers by tsetse fly. He’s arrived at the dump named Kibongo.

Chapter 2. 15 April 1917, Kibongo, German East Africa

Three months later it has rained every single day, food has run low because the trails to the river on the north side have been flooded and the ferry has been washed away. Felix and his battalion are stuck on the south side and on emergency rations. They’re all wasting away, reduced to eating the few monkeys they can shoot. Some black troops regularly die from eating the corpses of horses or mules. Wretched. Except for the ongoing comedy of Felix’s inability to understand Gilzean’s impenetrable Scottish accent.

Chapter 3. 15 July 1917, Nanda German East Africa

With Gabriel in Nanda. The Germans are losing the campaign. Gabriel is keeping a secret record of everything he hears. Dr Deppe has been moved on and Gabriel has stopped rubbing dirt in his wound to keep it infected. Deppe’s replacement tries to get Gabriel incarcerated with the new contingent of POWs but Liesl insists he is left free to carry on his medical assistance. Ongoing comedy because Liesl appears to have no idea that Gabriel burns with almost uncontrollable lust for her big full-breasted, thunder-thighed body.

The British have landed at Kilwa south of the mouth of the Rufiji so will be fighting their way towards Nanda. Something about the way the narrator keeps reminding us that Gabriel is keeping a secret record of everything he hears begins to make me suspect it will be found and Gabriel will be arrested and shot as a spy. Will he get to kiss Liesl before then or cup her huge breasts in his shaking hands? Doubt it.

Chapter 4. 19 October 1917, Lindi, German East Africa

The British advance, fighting increases, more Germans are taken prisoner, but it is the fate of Felix’s company to do peaceful duties far from the fighting, building latrines or walls, flattening land for airfields, accompanying supplies to supply depots near the front line etc. Felix gets time off from supervising the digging of latrines to go to HQ at Lindi on the coast to see if he can discover anything about Gabriel. Here he bumps into fat Smith and, in a coincidence, it turns out they’re both looking for Bilderbeck. And in an outrageous coincidence the first (unmarked) door Smith opens is to an office occupied by Reggie Wheech-Browning, his nemesis.

Wheech-Browning is able to inform Smith that von Bishop is still alive or that the British Army has no notification of his death (so Smith can continue his quest to kill him for despoiling his farm) and Felix that no news has been received of Gabriel’s death (so Felix can continue his quest to find him).

He tells them about Bildebeck’s end; he was in a siege of some German troop, went up onto the walls to harangue them every night, and one night snapped and charged the German lines shouting how they were preventing him from ‘finding his girl’, one of the many odd obsessions which made Bilderbeck such unnerving company for Gabriel and everyone else on the ship from India.

Chapter 5. 19 November 1917, Nanda German East Africa

Chapters 5 to 10 take place over the course of 6 days and form one continuous episode, the arrest, escape and trek of Gabriel Cobb.

The German army in German East has been commanded by Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck. Now his HQ has arrived at Nanda which is swollen with staff, soldiers and askaris. Liesl and Gabriel discuss the fact that the British are now only 50 miles away. In a few days, chances are, he’ll be liberated. Gabriel is surprised to discover this makes him unhappy. Here in the hospital, as a glorified orderly, he feels safe and secure. He decides to sneak round the back of Liesl’s bungalow for one last surreptitous look at her nakedness but when he sees it packed with German officers realises his folly.

He is caught, lightly interrogated, found guilty of spying but not shot as I expected. Instead he is locked in an old mealie sack shed for several days. On the first night Liesl comes to see him. She says they’re going to take him with them. He almost cries and begs her help. She comes back the next night with a metal hinge. It takes Gabriel ten minutes to dig a channel under one of the loose wooden walls.

He trembles with lust and fear and panic standing so close to that large body, those trembling breasts. Liesl, apparently still unaware of his feelings, gives him a sack containing food and water and tells him not to try to get through the lines to the British but hide somewhere for a couple of days till the Germans have left, then slip back into Nanda and find her.

Chapter 6. 22 November 1917, Nanda German East Africa

To his vast irritation von Bishop is tasked by Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck, head of the entire East German Army no less, with recovering the escaped prisoner. He says goodbye to Liesl and notices how big and manly she has become. He doesn’t know her any more. He chooses three of the ruga-ruga, natives with filed teeth reputed to be cannibals, and sets off north to find the fugitive.

Chapter 7. 22 November 1917, The Makonde plateau, German East Africa

Day one of Gabriel’s trek north. He is in poor shape generally, worse after three days locked in a shed. It’s hot, the thorn bushes scratch him, his injured leg starts to seize up. Locals in villages he passes notice him, the children throw stones. His plan is to press on across the wide flat plateau till nightfall.

Chapter 8. 22 November 1917, near Nambindinga, German East Africa

Unusually for once Felix’s company is in the vanguard of an advance. Much good it does them as one of his fellow officers, young Loveday with the irritating habit of peppering his conversation with French phrases, is blown in half by a landmine.

Anyway, suddenly arrives Wheech-Browning, that bad penny, ‘that ludicrous bean-pole of a man’, to inform Felix they’ve heard news of Gabriel. Smith was in an advance force which has taken Nanda, discovered the POW camp and some of the soldiers told them Gabriel had been there for years, had been arrested, had escaped just the day before.

Wheech-Browning drives Felix into Nanda, where they come across Smith questioning Liesl who, of course, he met right back at the start of the novel. He wants to know where Bishop is but now, as WB and Felix arrives, informs them of the enormous coincidence that von Bishop (who Smith is after) is chasing Gabriel (who Felix is after).

Felix introduces himself and asks the all-important question: Did his brother ever receive a letter from home? Liesl answers promptly and authoritatively NO, and Felix feels a wonderful sense of sweet relief flood his body. So Gabriel never learned about his affair with Charis. In fact, the reader knows he wouldn’t have in any case, as Charis never mentioned Felix by name. But Felix doesn’t know this.

He needs to go out into the bush to find Gabriel. Smith wants to find Bishop. They both ask WB but the latter says that if, as they claim, it’s a case of security / intelligence well, he’ll jolly well have to come, too. Is there no limit to the man’s irritatingness?

Chapter 9. 24 November 1917, The Makonde plateau, German East Africa

Exciting description of Bishop and the ruga ruga’s pursuit of Cobb across the plateau. They see a fire as dusk falls. They creep up but one trads on a stick, the mule hears and starts hee-hawing, and they see the figure flee. By the time they get there the small base by the fire is deserted, with Cobb’s sack of stuff, bread, a book, abandoned. Bishop sends the three natives to capture Cobb. Why does the book Cobb had belong to von Bishop. Mysteries. He falls asleep, wakes at dawn next morning. After some time the three natives return. One is carrying a sack. As Bishop sits with his rifle, one of them throws severed Cobb’s head into the dirt at his feet.

And that, children, is what you get for peeping at naked women having a shower!

Chapter 10. 25 November 1917, The Makonde plateau, German East Africa

Smith, Felix and Wheech-Browning come across the camp the next day. There’s a small burial mound. Half a mile away a business of vultures and big birds. When they ride over to it they see it’s a body without a head, already half eaten. Going back to the camp they dig into the mound and find Gabriel’s head buried wrapped in a blanket. Felix is convulsed with weeping. Both he and Smith are plain puzzled: who would do a thing like that?

Part 4. After the war

Chapter 1. 15 May 1918, Boma Durio, Portuguese East Africa

Six months later and the German forces have retreated into Portuguese east Africa but are still at large. Felix’s Nigerian regiment is decommissioned, the men sent back to Nigeria, but he wants to stay on and hunt von Bishop, so he takes up Wheech-Browning’s offer of a job in Army Intelligence. But, in the classic style, instead of being anywhere near the fighting he is turned into a supplies officer at a nowhere dump in the middle of rich agricultural land, Boma Durio, where he makes ragged friendships with some of the Portuguese officers

The chapter opens with the arrival of, you’ve guessed it, Intelligence Officer Wheech-Browning. He gets Cobb to give instruction to the Portuguese officers in how to use the (very simple) Stokes mortar. It doesn’t work very well so he goes to pace out the distance and is horrified when he hears the lick and sees a puff of smoke meaning a mortar has been launched. He yells at the Portuguese captain who’s accompanied him to run but the mortar detonates, ripping his clothes off, covering him in bruises and cuts. Dazed he staggers to the crater and realises it was a direct hit on Captain Pintao who has been vaporised.

Then appears Wheech-Browning who apologises profusely and explains that he had the lanyard in his hand when he sneezed. Terribly sorry, old chap. Wheech-Browning, his rise and rise, might, in a funny sort of way, be emerging as the central subject of the entire novel.

Chapter 2. 13 November 1918, Kasama, Rhodesia

Von Bishop is still with the German army commanded by Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck. After going south into Portuguese, capturing supplies, they’d doubled back north into the German colony then headed west into Rhodesia which is where they now are, having captured a town full of provisions.

Many men and some of the officers are coming down with and quickly dying from the Spanish flu. Von Bishop is still haunted by the horrible killing of Cobb on the plateau. The ruga ruga spoke no English and he didn’t speak their language. They did what they thought would please him (like Pharaoh beheading Pompey for Caesar). Next night the three natives disappeared, leaving von Bishop to rendezvous with von Lettow-Vorbeck’s main force at the river crossing into the Portuguese colony. He lied that they found Cobb’s body dead from exposure and buried it.

Von Bishop is strolling round town when a motorbike courier arrives. He is British so von Bishop informs him he is arrested while the courier gets out his case and hands von Bishop a note announcing that the war is over and hostilities have ceased. At last, he thinks, with huge relief.

Chapter 3. 2 December 1918, Nairobi, British East Africa

Felix is recuperating at a convalescent home for officers in Nairobi. He’s just received a letter from his mother telling him his father has been sent to a sanatorium, and that his friend Holland recently telephoned from Russia to announce that he’s joined a revolution there. Turns out Felix was hit in the occiput by shrapnel from the mortar and it badly affected his sight, which was fragmented but has, mercifully, almost completely recovered as the wound healed. He regrets not writing earlier to inform them of Gabriel’s death.

He had been reading a newspaper when the letter arrived. It had an account of the final surrender of Paul von Lettow-Vorbeck and his vexatious German Army. They had all been transported to Dar. It listed the 30 or so officers and included von Bishop’s name. At that moment Felix conceived a plan. He was going to travel to Dar, find von Bishop and shoot him dead in revenge for the gruesome murder of his brother.

Chapter 4. 5 December 1918, Dar-es-Salaam, German East Africa

Description of how von Bishop, along with the other captured officers, surrendered at Abicorn, were shipped up Lake Tanganyika to the port of Kigama and then the long train journey to the coast. Here they are greeted as heroes by the German community and von Bishop is reunited with Liesl who, he immediately notices, has lost a lot of weight, is back to the slim figure she had when he saw her off to Europe in 1913. They go to the small bungalow she is being allowed as a German civilian. The maid gets him a beer and almost immediately Liesl asks what happened to Gabriel.

Von Bishop tells the prepared lie, that he found Gabriel dead of exposure. Liesl apparently believes him. For a second she was going to say something – ‘Erich, I…’ – probably going to admit that she helped Gabriel escape, but Erich doesn’t want to hear it and talks over her. Liesl changes tack and goes on to say that she recognises one of the British men who came after von Bishop, saw him here in Dar just the day before. We know she’s referring to Felix.

Chapter 5. 9 December 1918, Dar-es-Salaam, German East Africa

The climax of the book. A few nights later Felix sneaks up on the bungalow now inhabited by von Bishop and his wife. He is full of confused moral contradictions like human beings so often are, at least in fictions. He has a great big service revolver. He climbs noisily in through an open window and sees a prone body on the bed and whispers, then pokes, then shouts at the unresponsive German. The door opens a light goes on and von Bishop’s wife tells him Erich is dead. Died three hours ago of Spanish flu.

Felix improvises an excuse for being there, something about wanting to talk to him about his brother’s death. He asks Liesl if Erich told her how Gabriel died and she says ‘Yes’ in a calm manner, so calm that Felix instantly realises she knows nothing about the beheading. Erich must have lied to her. She is ignorant. On the spot, he decides not to tell her. It doesn’t matter any more. Why carry on spreading suffering?

Epilogue

Epilogue. 3 January 1919, Mombasa, British East Africa

Felix and Temple Smith have met up and review the whole story. They’re on the quayside at Mombasa as Felix prepares to get his boat back to England.

Both smile wryly at the flu beating them to the revenge they wanted to wreak on von Bishop. The narrative ends on a comic note for while Felix is still puzzled by Liesl’s complete indifference to her husband’s death, Smith is vexed about the disappearance of his precious decorticator. He’s scoured the farms of the entire region round his homestead and never found it.

They wave him off as he gets the small lighter out to the steamer and he mounts to the railings. Then the decorative canon onshore fire a salute to a battalion of Indian troops preparing to embark on a steamer. The loud noise triggers Felix’s optical problem, the result of the mortar injury, his sight becomes fragmentary and patchy, the sea and sky, the land and the people on it, all reduced to jagged fragments.

Thoughts

English scenes

Of the 18 chapters in the section titled ‘The War’, no fewer than seven are set in England and feature Felix Cobb. Of the total 40 chapters, 10 are set in Britain (or Trouville). My point is there’s a lot of scenes and events set in England for a book supposedly about the war in Africa. Not complaining or criticising, just pointing out that a lot of these scenes are as – if not more – effective than the African ones. I felt I got to know Charis, Felix and Holland better than most of the African characters.

Conveying information

Giles Foden has written five novels set in Africa, each incorporating large chunks of history, including one set in the same region of East Africa during the Great War (‘Mimi and Toutou Go Forth’). So I’m able to do a direct comparison and say Boyd is much better at integrating lots of factual backstory with a complex plot. In Foden it feels like the plot stops while a character clumsily invokes the historical facts. In Boyd the third person narrator tells us everything we need to know then smoothly goes on with the plot. Boyd is a much smoother, more accomplished writer in this technical sense of arranging his plot and integrating factual material. His prose is also much more smooth and finished and not odd and cranky as Foden’s is. He also has a continual dry sense of humour which peeks out at all kinds of moments, unlike Foden who is heavy and humourless throughout. When Foden tries to be amusing, as in ‘Mimi and Toutou Go Forth’, it’s like watching Gordon Brown try to tell a humorous anecdote i.e. you feel embarrassed for him.

Comic coincidences

Stories need coincidence of a kind which don’t happen in real life: old lovers bumping into each other etc. In Foden’s stories the coincidences are unbelievable because he takes them, like everything else, with deadly seriousness. Boyd has a lovely sense of humour which helps you accept his coincidences. Thus, Smith’s life is bedevilled by a tall officious British officer named Wheech-Browning but the way they keep bumping into each other, instead of undermining the story (as it does in Foden), because Boyd plays it for dry laughs, somehow the comedy takes the edge off the improbability and laughs you into believing it. It has (it occurs to me) the same kind of comedy of coincidences Waugh deploys so well in his novels, with the same scapegraces popping up in unlikely places.

Influences and echoes

Isn’t there a scene in D.H. Lawrence where posh people die in the pond of their big posh house? I remember it from the movie version of ‘Women in Love’. The memory of this made me think of the English scenes as a kind of nexus of tropes from Lawrence (for the passion), Huxley (for the social comedy) and Waugh (for the withering satire). Boyd is a very good, very entertaining writer, but maybe the reason he’s never had a breakthrough work and never become a really big name is because what he’s good at is refreshing existing tropes and memes: the comedy of ‘A Good Man in Africa’ contained multiple echoes of English farceurs from Kingsley Amis to Tom Sharpe. I’ve mentioned the English writers who the English scenes in this book bring to mind. Even the war scenes, in their ridiculous futility, remind me of Evelyn Waugh’s (surprisingly numerous) war scenes.

So he’s a very good, very entertaining writer, full of echoes.


Credit

An Ice-Cream War by William Boyd was first published by Hamish Hamilton in 1982. References are to the 1983 Penguin paperback edition.

William Boyd reviews

  • A Good Man in Africa (1981)
  • An Ice-Cream War (1982)

Africa reviews

Mimi and Toutou Go Forth: The Bizarre Battle for Lake Tanganyika by Giles Foden (2004)

Factual history has always played a central role in Foden’s fiction, possibly, arguably, to its detriment.

Thus his harrowing account of a (fictional) Scottish doctor who gets caught up in Idi Amin’s murderous regime in ‘The Last King of Scotland’ begins to go off the rails when it tries to have our hero present at an increasingly unlikely number of actual historical events.

Similarly, ‘Zanzibar’ is a novel about an American couple who get caught up in the 1998 terrorist attacks on embassies in East Africa, a text which, at some points, puts the fiction completely on hold while it delivers straight lectures about the origins of al-Qaeda, or the Starr Enquiry into Bill Clinton, or the precise functioning of a Tomahawk cruise missile, among many other factual digressions.

In this book, Foden’s fondness for historical fact triumphs over fiction: it is not a novel at all. It is a factual account of actual historical events but not done in the dry tones of an academic historian. These real events are viewed from a deliberately playful, quirky angle, written in a consistently whimsical style, and with many scenes and conversations imagined. Semi-fictionalised history…

On Lake Tanganyika

At the outbreak of the First World War, Germany ‘owned’ the colony of German East Africa, roughly present-day Tanzania, bordered by Portuguese East Africa to the south (modern Mozambique) and British East Africa to the north (modern Kenya and Uganda).

The key geographical feature of the region was Lake Tanganyika (at 420 miles, the longest freshwater lake in the world) which the Germans dominated by means of several big warships, two motorboats, a fleet of dhows and some Boston whalers.

Dominance of the lake was important because a) it was the lynchpin to ownership of the entire territory and war is about controlling territory; which in turn b) gave the Germans access to a potentially large supply of native or askari troops, with c) the worst-case scenario of Germ,any assembling an African army from across the region and descending down the Nile to take (British-run) Egypt and threatening the route to the jewel in the crown of the British Empire, India (p.46).

In 1915, with the war in stalemate on the Western Front and Churchill’s Gallipoli campaign about to lurch to disaster, the Admiralty was persuaded by a British big game hunter named John Lee, of a plan to combat and destroy the German battleships on Lake Tanganyika. The plan involved transporting the parts for a couple of fast motorboats by ship to South Africa, then north by rail up through Rhodesia, then by land and river through the Belgian Congo, then by train again East and so, finally, onto the lake directly opposite the German base at Kigoma.

Here the motorboats would be quickly assembled and set to attack the German warships. The whole expedition was put under the command of a well-known eccentric and semi-disgraced naval officer, Commander Geoffrey Spicer-Simpson.

A factual account

I initially thought this was one more of Foden’s deeply historical fictions. It certainly opens with an obviously imagined scene of a big game hunter stalking an elephant, using fictional devices to imagine his thoughts and actions. This, it turns out, is the big game hunter John Lee, whose plan is going to kick start the narrative. It establishes Foden’s method basing everything on documentary evidence of the historical events but freely inventing ‘fictional’ details, especially the characters’ dialogue.

What made me realise it is indeed a history is the extent of Foden’s quotations from other histories, from numerous memoirs, articles and lectures – every page has quotes from other books about the First World War or Africa – and from the flotilla of footnotes bobbing at the bottom of every page. These serve to indicate the scope of Foden’s research and reading and generally bolster the authenticity of the narrative, augmented by four pages of maps at the start, showing just where everything happened, and a three-page bibliography (listing 41 books and articles) at the end. Also at the end is a nifty page showing silhouettes of all the ships involved in the narrative, indicating their relative sizes.

Whimsy

Yet despite all this factual fol-de-rol, it’s not really a book for adults. This begins to be indicated 1) by the frivolous title, 2) by the deliberate ‘Swallows and Amazons’ hand-drawn style of the maps, and 3) by the fact that every chapter starts with an equally children’s book-style illustration (by Matilda Hunt). These all give the visual impression that it is a Swallows and Amazons-style children’s book.

Most of all it’s indicated by the book’s brisk skipping over massively important historical facts (such as the outbreak and progress of the Great War, the conception and deployment of the Gallipoli campaign) in favour of foregrounding the maximum amount of silliness.

For the whole thing is played for laughs, liberally sprinkled with scenes of high farce. Take one of the earliest scenes in the book, which introduces us to the future leader of the expedition, Geoffrey Spicer-Simpson, watching the vessel he was meant to be captain of being torpedoed and sunk while he was irresponsibly having a drink in the bar of an English harbourside hotel. The general idea is that Spicer-Simpson was an obsessive incompetent who the Admiralty was happy only too happy to send on some wild goose chase into darkest Africa.

The narrative goes out of its way to wring the maximum amount of comic effect from the eccentricities of many of the key characters. Take Spicer-Simpson’s insistence on only smoking handmade cigarettes with his name monogrammed on them. Or Sub-Lieutenant Tyrer, ‘one of the earliest English aviators’ and his habit of affecting a monocle and a taste for Worcester sauce as an aperitif and his nickname Piccadilly Johnny. It’s history rewritten in the mode of Jeeves and Wooster. Michael Palin’s ‘Ripping Yarns’. History for the lolz.

It goes out of its way to emphasise the whimsical and and droll: Tubby Eastward acquires a chimpanzee he names Josephine (p.99). When they capture a goat which was a mascot on a German ship, it turns out the goat will let Josephine ride on its back (p.204). A Tanganyika guidebook advises that dead Zebra noses make pretty slippers (p.104). All this before we get onto the expedition leader’s fondness for wearing skirts, admittedly made from army khaki, but which he insisted were suitable for the hot weather, to the derision of pretty much everyone else on the expedition (p.171).

This question of whether it’s for adults was answered for me on page 35, where he gives us a lengthy footnote explaining what the Crystal Palace was, how it was transplanted to Sydenham, and burned down in 1936. He has to explain what the Crystal Palace was. From that point onwards I realised this is an intelligent child’s version of history, and wondered what the book’s target age group was intended to be: 12? 16? A feeling reinforced by the egregious use of exclamation marks to ram home the comedy.

It was supposedly a secret mission, although Kapitän Zimmer’s memoirs reveal that he knew there was a British naval expedition on its way to the lake by late May 1915: before it had even set off! (p.56)

More accurately, maybe, as Conan Doyle wrote somewhere, it’s for the adventuresome boy of any age.

Basic facts

The expedition was officially named the Naval African Expedition. Its mission was to transport two motorboats across land to Lake Tanganyika and use them to sink the Germans’ three battleships, Hedwig von Wissmann, the Kingani and the Graf von Götzen. Here’s all the facts you need to know:

Note how the Battle article cites an impressive number of citations from Foden’s book, suggesting that, despite its larky tone, it is now the definitive modern account of these events.

Why ‘Mimi and Toutou go forth’?

Mimi and Toutou are what Spicer named the two motorboats, telling his men they were French for ‘miaow’ and ‘bow-wow’, respectively (p.37).

‘Mimi’ in 1915. Note the cannon at the front and machine gun at the back. National Maritime Museum, London

As to ‘go forth’, this is a Ripping Yarns-type phrase which Foden deploys early on in the narrative, presumably hoping for a laugh, and then repeats at various points of their journey through the jungle and deployment on the lake, presumably for comic effect. Except that, like most of Foden’s attempts at comic effect, it doesn’t come off. Not for me, anyway.

Timeline of the journey

June 1915: the two motorboats undergo trials on the River Thames.

15 June: the two motorboats loaded aboard the Llanstephen Castle which sets sail from Tilbury, London, bound for Cape Town.

2 July: arrive at Cape Town to hear word of Royal Navy engagement with the German battleship Königsberg, on the Indian Ocean.

16 July: load the motorboats onto trains at Cape Town and set off on the 2,000 mile train journey north.

26 July: arrive at Elizabethville, the most southernmost major city in the Belgian Congo (p.81)

5 August: the expedition reaches the end of the railway at Fungurume. The two boats are unloaded from the train from Cape Town and commence their journey overland (p.90).

Pages 90 to 158 describe the long journey of the motor boats by train, by traction engine-drawn trailer through the jungle, up and over the Mitumba mountains and down into the Congo river for a spell, before docking and taking the train east to Lake Tanganyika, are awesome. It was an epic journey fraught with countless problems (rain, mud, quicksand, buckling bridges, the traction engines continually slipping off the track into the undergrowth or down steep slopes), the white men showing amazing resourcefulness and the reader boggling at the sheer physical labour demanded of the hundreds of native labourers they co-opted to labour for them.

28 September: after the gruelling portage over the Mitumba mountains, the expedition reaches the railhead at Sankisia and the motorboats are transferred to train.

1 October 1915 (p.128) A brisk railway journey brings them to Bukama station, where the motorboats are transferred to lighters on the Lualaba river down which they’ll be ferried. The Lualaba is in fact the name for the higher reaches of the main tributary of the Congo, it changes its name to Congo at the start of the Stanley Falls (p.127). They hitch a ride on the Constantin de Burlay, skippered by the drunk and angry Captain Blaes, passing across Lake Kisabe.

22 October: arrive at the railhead at Kabalo where they’ll leave the river and head east by rail along the valley of the Lukuga towards Lake Tanganyika (p.150).

26 October: the expedition arrives at the railhead which in fact, in that African way, comes to an abrupt halt a few miles before the port at Lukuga, which the Belgians call Albertville. The Belgians ran out of rails and sleepers. The boats are hidden in a siding until

Timeline of naval engagements

1 December: German ship Kingani comes in close to Lukuga and is fired on by Belgian guns (p.176).

22 December: first of the motor boats launched onto the lake (p.184)

26 December: the German Kingani comes incautiously close to the new harbour being built for the motorboats. These wait for her to pass then set off in hot pursuit, scoring direct hits, killing the captain and forcing the chief engineer to surrender. The badly damaged ship is towed into the Belgian port (Lukuga). Macabrely, Spicer takes the signet ring from the finger of the dead captain and wore it continually afterwards (pages 192 to 197). Our boys repair the Kingani, and Spicer renames it Fifi,  in line with his frivolous naming of the two motorboats. Apparently it was the first German ship to be captured and transitioned to the Royal Navy during the Great War (p.204).

9 February: the Hedwig is order to spy out the Belgian port before rendezvousing with the Götzen. Instead it finds itself engaged with four of the allied boats (though not Toutou which had been damaged in a storm, p.222). After an extended chase and shooting, the Brits score two direct hits on the Hedwig and sink her, capturing her captain and crew.

5 June 1916: the flotilla sail south to Bismarckburg to link up with colonial soldiers who take it from the Germans (p.252).

11 June: Belgian seaplanes bomb the Graf von Götzen (p.254).

26 July: seeing that a large Belgian force was about to seize the German base of Kigoma, the captain of the Graf von Götzen gives orders for it to be scuttled (p.255).

After which (from page 257) Foden gives a kind of epilogue. The naval force was broken up. A depressed Spicer was invalided home. The two motorboats were handed over to the Belgians. Various other members of the crew met different fates, staying on in Africa or returning home via different routes.

Ripping diction

Posh diction in a multicultural society

I live in the most multicultural constituency in the UK, Streatham Hill, where over 120 languages are spoken, not least by my Chinese postman, the West African women on the Tesco’s checkout, the Brazilian receptionist at my Asian dentist’s, the Albanian labourers who fixed my fence, the Somalis who sweep the streets and so on.

Foden went to a jolly good public school (Malvern College, current annual boarding fee £46,000 i.e. entire secondary education £322,000 plus extras). He has done terrifically well in the London literary mafia where such a background sets the tone.

Living in this multicultural, multilingual, white minority environment makes me more aware than ever how incongruous it is that a certain kind of jolly, public schoolboy English diction lives on and flourishes in the world of ‘literature’, when it has is being erased and superseded in the world I live in.

Examples of chaps phraseology

It’s this variance between the posh boy diction I still meet in books, and the people I encounter in the real world which made so much of the book’s phraseology really stick out to me. It felt like it came from a lost world, from the ripping yarns of Rider Haggard and Conan Doyle.

  • It is not surprising that Spicer’s fellow officers thought of him as at best peculiar, at worst downright dangerous. (p.14)
  • [Spicer insisted on his medical officer wearing a cutlass], tearing a strip off the doctor when he questioned the point of a medical officer wearing such an item. (p.41)
  • Every evening in the bar he would hold forth on his skill in hunting big game. (p.49)
  • They bespeak the wisdom born of experience… (p.49)
  • The German inshore guns began to fire – 47 mm field guns and small arms – but the Severn and the Mersey returned the compliment in heavier kind. (p.69)
  • Away to the south-west, at a dinner table in Salisbury, skulduggery was afoot. (p.71)
  • Sinking the Hedwig would be no mean feat (p.79)
  • Fate would test Spicer again soon enough (p.164)
  • Odebrecht realised the game was up. (p.225)
  • … a world about to be shaken to its core. (p.237)

I know Foden is writing a deliberate and knowing homage to John Buchanesque adventure stories, I know it is to a large extent deliberate pastiche, but this phraseology feels to me like a message from before the flood, like an old colonel at the club asking for another pink gin, rather than a denizen of 21st century Britain.

One does, doesn’t one?

As does Foden’s routine use of ‘one’:

  • One can be sure that the full story of the victory did not come through on the Lanstephen Castle’s Morse set (p.61)
  • How Spicer didn’t know about the Götzen is a mystery one can only attribute to the parlous state of communications in Africa… (p.77)
  • One certainly gets a more powerful sense of the danger from Dr Hanschell’s account (p.114)
  • One gets a sense of what this must have been like from the travel journals of Evelyn Waugh… (p.135)

I know it’s partly or wholly pastiche and maybe I’m having a bad sense of humour failure, but the archaic pomposity of the style outweighed the slender trickle of comedy and got on my nerves. Only the king sounds like this.

Dangling prepositions

I know it’s a petty point but, given what I’m saying about the modern world and modern English usage, I am irritated by Foden’s sometimes going to absurd lengths and distorting normal English word order so as to avoid ending a sentence with a preposition. This is a feature of ‘good style’ which was old fashioned in the 1960s. but lingers on like a fossil in Foden’s writing. Mostly it’s just irritating but occasionally it really messes up the sense of the sentence.

Von Lettow-Vorbeck, the German commander, ordered that [the guns] be dragged back to Dar es Salaam, to which task 400 Africans were promptly put. (p.73)

Why not avoid the problem and write something clear and readable such like: ‘a task which 400 Africans were promptly put to.’ Americans aren’t afraid of ending sentences with a proposition, but posh Brits are. Why? Here’s some advice off the internet.

Yes, it’s fine to end a sentence with a preposition. The ‘rule’ against doing so is overwhelmingly rejected by modern style guides and language authorities and is based on the rules of Latin grammar, not English. Trying to avoid ending a sentence with a preposition often results in very unnatural phrasings. (Scribbr.com)

Which kinds of schools still teach Latin in part because it is meant to form the basis of good English prose style? British public schools of the type Foden attended, bastions of conservatism in thought and style, forming the habits of mind of such masters of English prose as Boris Johnson.

Poor editing

The book appears to have been unusually badly edited. On page 65 we are told that a young journalist named Winston Churchill had stayed at a particular South African hotel during the Boer War.

It’s odd that the text introduces Churchill in this way as he has already been mentioned half a dozen times already:

  • starting on page 22 when his disagreement with First Sea Lord Admiral Fisher is discussed as a contributory factor to the failure of the Gallipoli campaign
  • then later when his removal from his post as First Lord of the Admiralty was a condition of Conservative leader Andrew Bonar-Law joining Lloyd-George’s wartime coalition in 1915
  • then again when Churchill is quoted describing the monotony of life aboard ship (p.48)
  • and the silly tradition of having someone dress up as Neptune and insist on pranks when a British ship crossed the equator (p.57)

So for Churchill to be introduced on page 65, as if for the very first time, reads very much as if whoever edited the book hadn’t noticed the earlier references (?) or that maybe the book was published in magazine instalments and then hastily cobbled together with nobody checking for continuity (?). Whatever the reason, it felt amateurish and further knocked my confidence in the narrative. The research seems to have been pretty thorough but the actual writing of the book, as everything I’ve listed above indicates, is surprisingly slapdash.

The African Queen

Speaking of clumsiness, I was surprised at the clumsy way mention of the classic movie ‘The African Queen’, based on the 1935 novel by C.S. Forester, was just dumped into the text early on, in a parenthesis and without any preparation or explanation.

Their brief holiday over, the Congolese paddlemen were once again put to work. As they paddled through the reeds – sometimes getting out to tug the boats through by hand, as Bogart and Hepburn would do during the filming of The African Queen 36 years later – enormous numbers of birds flew up from their nest places in the marsh. (p.140)

There’s no previous explanation of the film or its stars. It’s just assumed that you know what this is referring to. I do because I’m the kind of white, middle-aged, middle-class film and literature buff this kind of book is aimed at, but the throwaway introduction of the huge fact that Forester’s book and the resulting movie are fictionalised accounts of the Battle of Lake Tanganyika which this book is about, is further disconcerting example of the casual, random, throwaway way even the most important historical or cultural references feel like they’ve just been chucked into the text, almost at random.

Only at the end of the main narrative does Foden devote an entire chapter (chapter 23, pages 265 to 280) to the story of C.S. Forester’s novel and the movie adaptation of it, but even here he tells the story in a cack-handed, arse-over-tit, convoluted way.

In a condensed, hectic way he jumbles up the real history, Forester’s version, John Huston’s screen version, stories about Hollywood producers, a reference to Kathleen Hepburn’s memoir about the filming, quotes from Huston’s autobiography, then that a novel was written about the making of the movie of the novel, and then that this novel was itself made into a movie directed by and starring Clint Eastwood, then that the screenplay was written by James Agee who had written the text for Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, Walker Evans’ famous photographic record of the Deep South, and so on.

It’s an extraordinarily muddled, helter-skelter, brain dump of a chapter, a shambles as explication, more like the embarrassing name-dropping of a cocky A-level student. Foden goes on to tell us that Huston’s film crew were ferried about in a boat which, twenty years later picked up Ernest Hemingway after he’d been involved in a plane crash, took him onto another location where he was promptly injured in another plane crash, tells us what Hemingway’s injuries were, then straight onto the trivial pursuit factoid that Hemingway was a big fan of Forester, and so on and so on.

It’s a movie buff equivalent of trainspotting, packed with trivial pursuit facts, quite bereft of insight or interest. I was appalled at the poor level of this farrago.

Heart of Darkness

The most obvious literary reference for any journey in the Congo is Joseph Conrad’s super-famous novel, Heart of Darkness. Foden is not shy about being obvious and his text contains references to and quotes from Conrad on pages 127, 131, 133, 146, 207, 272 and 275.

None of these shed any light whatsoever on Conrad, they are used in the most basic, bucket, banal kind of way just to cross-reference this or that setting or episode in Foden’s narrative. For example, he quotes Conrad’s descriptions of the river Congo, or the jungle, adding nothing much to the narrative except the Sunday supplement pleasure of spotting literary allusions. At one point, with wild inappropriateness, Foden compares Spicer’s daily bath– which he turned into a ritual for the bemusement of the local Africans – with the behaviour of Conrad’s Mr Kurz, who was (obviously) an absolutely and completely different kind of man (p.208). The comparison adds nothing to our understanding of Conrad or Spicer, it’s just a handy reference to chuck in along with a lot of the other lumber and junk which clutters the narrative.

Just as unoriginal is Foden’s yoking in of T.S. Eliot. Dear oh dear, what a lazy sixth form name to drop. The pretext is that one of Eliot’s poems (The Hollow Men) features a quote from Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (‘Mistah Kurtz. He dead’) and his most famous poem, The Waste Land, was to feature another, super-famous quote (‘The horror! The horror!’) until its editor removed it.

Now, as any literature student knows, Eliot claimed that The Waste Land was ‘based’ on contemporary works of anthropology such as Fraser’s Golden Bough or Jesse Weston’s then brand-new study, From Ritual to Romance (p.251). All this irrelevant information is shoehorned into the text because Foden, reasonably enough, wants to give us an account of the African mythology of the people living around Lake Tanganyika and its surrounding mountains, goes on to describe the behaviour of the local Holo-Bolo tribe of killing off old kings and immediately crowning new ones – but it’s at this point that he begins to twist things by claiming that the Holo-Bolo ritual can be said to be an example of the cults of death and rebirth described by Fraser and Weston…and so all this can be linked to Eliot…and Eliot uses an epigraph by Conrad…and Conrad write Heart of Darkness about the Congo…and this book is about an adventure in the Congo…and so…SHAZAM! It all fits!!

See how contrived all this is? All this tying the text up in knots so as to name-drop some of the most obvious works of English literature. It’s like an undergraduate game of Consequences, clever and trivial.

It’s also disturbing or another reason not to take the book seriously, that Foden doesn’t take the opportunity to reference any modern anthropological work about the myths of central Africa, which I’m sure abound and would be genuinely interesting, but would require some actual serious research. Instead he prefers to draw on his own undergraduate degree to serve up bleeding obvious cultural references from a hundred years ago which will be greeted with knowing nods by every other English graduate but are absolutely useless as objective, serious anthropological analysis.

This entry-level use of undergraduate cultural references, combined with their clumsy shoehorning into a farrago of pointless name-dropping, really shook my faith in Foden as a writer. The factual historical parts of the book feel solid and interesting. But the blizzard of cultural references and ‘explanations’ which clutter it up feel obvious, thrown together, shallow and patronising.

Last night I read a comment by a reader on a Guardian article which immediately made me think of this book:

I think it’s quite common for writers to mistake cultural references for substance or insight in their prose. However, they often serve more to exclude rather than enlighten the reader.

(As backup to my view that T.S. Eliot is just about the most obvious English language poet for pretentious people to namedrop, I’m reading Chinua Achebe’s second novel, No Longer At Ease, whose title is a quote from T.S. Eliot’s poem, The Journey of the Magi, and when Achebe wants to highlight his protagonist’s callow inexperienced quickness to show off the learning he’s acquired in his recent English degree, he has him tell his nurse girlfriend that something she’s just said is ‘pure T.S. Eliot’. She is unimpressed. The scene exists in Achebe’s novel to highlight how callow, obvious and immature the protagonist is, keen to show off his newly acquired learning at every opportunity, no matter how inappropriate…)

F0oden on human evolution

A prime example of a completely extraneous bit of pseud-culture which is shoehorned into the narrative and turns out to be both distracting and wrong comes towards the end.

In the final passages of the book, after the historical narrative is finished, Foden moves on to recount his modern-day journeys to research the story of the Battle of Lake Tanganyika. The idea is to see what physical remains of the events, if any, can still be found. Not much, is the answer. Instead these last 30 or so pages feel more like a tourist travelogue as Foden describes the various hardships he underwent on his journey round the lake looking for historical traces, almost as if they’ve been tacked onto the end of the book to bulk it out to the necessary length.

Thus it is that we find the author standing in the Tanzania Museum’s Hall of Man and admitting that he can never remember the sequence of human evolution, does it go Australopithecus, then Homo habilis, then Homo sapiens?

Two points about this. Number one, why doesn’t he look it up on the bloody internet instead of making a point about his own ignorance? Because that’s the kind of text it is: cultivating a deliberate image of bumbling whimsy. It places Foden in direct descent from the bumbling Brits who managed to pull of their historic feat, not least the eccentric Spicer-Simpson. Maybe it’s meant to make him come over as endearingly imperfect, a sort of Michael Palin figure.

Number two: no, that is not the sequence of human ancestors, because our contemporary understanding of human evolution now rejects the entire idea of one line of human development. Instead, all the evidence points to a surprising number of Homo species arising in different places around Africa, flourishing for a while then dying out. The lineage we belong to survived by a fluke. The kind of simple one-line-of-descent Foden can’t even remember properly is, like his reference to Weston and Fraser, completely out of date and discredited. Read:

Having got this completely wrong, Foden goes on to repeat the equally out-of-date error that Homo sapiens ‘wiped out’ Homo neanderthalensis in a ‘genocide’ (p.288).

No. A genocide suggests a co-ordinated and sustained campaign of extermination which requires modern technology, weapons and, above all, population size. Professor Chris Stringer, Research Leader in Human Evolution at the Natural History Museum, says that at their peak there were probably only about 50,000 proto-humans spread across all of Eurasia. The tiny groups they lived in might go years or even decades without bumping into other groups. There weren’t nearly enough early humans to conduct anything remotely like a ‘genocide’. Modern thinking is that they/we just had a fractionally better ability to survive than the Neanderthals, for whatever reason – slightly higher intelligence, slightly better social or cognitive skills – and that this gave us the edge which let us survive in a wide variety of ecological niches while the Neanderthals didn’t.

Why does Foden drag this incorrect misleading stuff into his text? Not to inform us, not to keep us up-to-date with the latest research but, it turns out, purely and solely because he wants to use the non-existent Neanderthal ‘genocide’ to introduce the topic of the appalling behaviour of the pre-Great War Germans in their colonies, where they mounted a real-life genocide against the native inhabitants of South-West Africa, and as a peg to describe how the Germans’ brutal treatment of natives in German East Africa triggered a revolt which was put down with equal brutality.

Why not just say that? Why drag in all this half-understood, out-of-date rubbish about human evolution to get on to the topic he wants to discuss?

By now I hope you can see how this just seemed to me just another example of the book’s modish superficiality. It’s a dinner party trope, a Radio 4 cliché, to talk about the ‘genocide’ of the Neanderthals, even though modern science thinks it’s bunk. Sounds cool, though. Makes it sound like you are a knowledgeable guy with a tough-minded approach to history.

Except it’s wrong.

And it’s insulting. If you’re going to raise the subject of a genocide then at least treat it with the respect it deserves. Foden mentions the extermination of the Herero tribe in half a sentence and the maji rebellion in less than a page. So this book is very much not the place to learn about either of these important events which very much ought to be memorialised and taken seriously.

If you’re interested in either, put down this book and pick up Thomas Pakenham’s epic account of The Scramble for Africa, which devotes chapter 33 to the Herero war (14 densely printed pages) and chapter 34 to the maji-maji rebellion (13 pages). That’s the way to treat a genocide. Give it the length, depth and detail the horribly murdered victims deserve.

So: the entire passage which starts quite promisingly with the author standing in Tanzania Museum’s Hall of Man turns out to be inaccurate, misleading, and only there in order to provide a rather tortuous pretext for references to German imperial brutality which are, like everything else in the book – apart from the central narrative of transporting the motorboats – treated with almost insulting brevity and superficiality.

Thoughts

After working through 311 ages of often gripping narrative, I did, of course, learn a huge amount about this little-known aspect of the Great War. Nevertheless, I was very disappointed. I can see that the book is intended to be a comical entertainment but that comedy almost entirely depends on you buying into the world and tone of eccentric Edwardian chaps which Foden depicts and this, for some reason, I found impossible to do.

Maybe because I had been brutalised by the serious issues and graphic violence of Foden’s first three novels and was still reeling from the snakepit of issues raised by his descriptions of al-Qaida and Osama bin Laden, the clash of the West and Islam, discussed at length in his preceding book, Zanzibar and found it impossible to switch to the tone of light-hearted whimsy which dominates this book.

Maybe because I found the use of ‘one’, the odd word order, the jolly chaps phraseology, to be too much of a blocker. Maybe, quite simply, because the text just isn’t as funny as it thinks it is.

It has many striking and memorable moments. The account of the portage of the motorboats through the jungle, up over the Mitumba mountains and along the Congo is awesome. The account of the naval battles on the lake feels very thorough and authoritative. The factual accuracy about the ships, the war and the battles, at all times feels solid. The recreation of so many of the historical characters is full and persuasive.

But for me these achievements were undermined by:

  1. superficial discussion of related topics like the situation on the Western Front, or the sinking of the Lusitania (p.42) or the cack-handed treatment of The African Queen or the rubbish about human evolution or the inadequate treatment of tribal genocides, which I’ve mentioned
  2. the footnotes on every page, most of which are either really obvious or embarrassingly ‘quirky’
  3. the maladroit use of those Conrad quotations and all the other trite and clunkily inserted cultural references
  4. the repeated preference for slick attitudinising on the woke topics of the day (racism, imperialism, genocide) instead of the in-depth explanations or proper analysis which those topics deserve

Above all by the deliberate frivolousness of the tone which, as you can tell, just didn’t work at all for me.

If you like this kind of historical whimsy then ‘Mimi and Toutou Go Forth: The Bizarre Battle for Lake Tanganyika’ is for you, and I imagine it sold well to the same kind of people who bought ‘Nathaniel’s Nutmeg’ and other quirky takes on little-known episodes from history.

Maybe it’s a flaw in my taste that I either like full-on comedy (like William Boyd’s outrageously funny ‘A Good Man in Africa’) or full-on, serious history with proper analysis (see the many straight histories in my list of Africa reviews) so that, as you can tell, I just didn’t get on with this larky yarn which falls between both.

Interesting-sounding books which Foden namechecks

  • Phantom Flotilla: The story of the Naval Africa Expedition by Peter Shankland (1968)
  • The Great War in Africa by Bryan Farwell (1987)
  • The First World War by Hew Strachan (2001)

Compare with ‘An Ice-Cream War’

William Boyd’s second novel, ‘An Ice-Cream War’, is set during the First World War in British and German East Africa, so there’s some overlap (though not, in fact, as much as you might think, Boyd’s book being a sweeping account of the land war, Foden’s entirely about the relatively small and specific events on Lake Tanganyika). For example, the (real, historical) overall commander of German forces, Paul Von Lettow-Vorbeck, appears in both books.

If it was a choice between the two books, I would hands down recommend the Boyd novel, which is long, rich, deeply researched, wonderfully imagined and luminously written – the opposite in every way of this book.


Credit

Mimi and Toutou Go Forth: The Bizarre Battle for Lake Tanganyika by Giles Foden was published by Michael Joseph in 2004. References are to the 2005 Penguin paperback edition.

Giles Foden reviews

Africa reviews