An inversion of the Orpheus myth where our hero gets trapped in the Underworld and his lover Eurydice orchestrates his release.
Mishka, a half Jewish, half Lebanese Australian studying music in Boston, is our Orpheus while his lover Leela, a transplant from the Bible-belt south (from a town appropriately called Promised Land), studying the mathematics of music, is his Eurydice. In his quest to find his missing Lebanese father, Mishka gets involved with a bunch of suicide-bomber terrorists and flies out to Lebanon where he disappears. On his tail, and on Leela’s, is the twisted and tortured Cobb, also formerly from Promised Land, a veteran of the Iraq war, now a contract security consultant; Cobb has secretly admired, pursued, and been scorned by Leela while they were growing up in Promised Land. Now it’s payback time for Cobb as he holds the power to bring Mishka back alive, or not.
The story flips back and forth between Boston, Promised Land, the Daintree rainforest in north-eastern Australia, and the Middle East. While the American and Australian scenes are well developed (probably due to the writer’s first-hand experience of having lived in these countries), I found the Middle Eastern ones sparse, suggesting that Turner Hospital had no real experience of the locale and was writing from sketchy research material. That said, there are great contrasting scenes painted in the US and Australia: the dreamlike sequences when Leela and Miskha first meet and later when they realize that they are implicated in terrorism after a subway bombing in Boston; when Mishka recalls growing up at Chateau Daintree deep in the rainforest, the only child in a quirky multi-generational family of transplanted music –loving Hungarian Jews released from the Holocaust, as unique to the area as the quandong trees that grow only in the Daintree; and when we are taken back to Promised Land to visit Leela’s and Cobb’s respective cantankerous fathers, both dying of cancer and waiting out the other guy.
Strangely enough, I was enjoying the literary nature of the book until the pace quickened after Mishka was kidnapped and the novel veered off into the thriller genre, and, in my opinion, failed at that point. Because what happens in the Middle East is so fragmentary and all the action happens off-stage, I found this section more like a data dump where all the loose ends were tied up in a perfunctory way, as if the book was being suddenly rushed to market. It’s a pity, because the build up to that point was superb.
Shortcomings apart, this book is a good reminder of how terrorism has penetrated the fabric of life and literature in the developed west, be it in the US or Australia, and how it has conditioned our behaviour and expectations. And it also says to me that the literary-thriller genre is still an open field, and that it’s tough to integrate two different genres without readers on both sides of the scale left wanting “a little bit more.”