The title comes from a particular sexual intercourse technique, though it's also meant to be a (blackly comic) metaphor (as in truly fucked) for Singapore's fate in the wake of its February 1942 capitulation to the Japanese. The reason for that is, I assume, Singapore itself, which emerges, with all of its collection of uneven racial components, as a character itself. At the top of heap are the British. It's their colony and their creation. It's also in a period (1937 to 1942) of marked British colonial decline. The pompous racist arrogance is still there, but the dry rot is everywhere. It only takes a push from smallish Japanese army to see it all collapse in was to be a British Cannae (without the Roman bounce-back).
At the center of the story are the Blanketts, who control one part of a successful rubber trading company. As war clouds gather, rubber is in demand. The company is led by the hard-edged Walter Blankett. His partner, the aging Charles Webb, the original founder of the company, is drifting off into senility. He is often observed pruning his garden in the nude. Walter, at the opening of the novel (1937), is beginning to look for possible suitors for his soon to be marriageable daughter, Joan, who is quite beautiful, but also blossoming into a first class bitch. The set up here is often comedic and reminiscent of Waugh at his most savage. Meanwhile, events in China and Japan are darkening the horizon, and there are ominous rumblings from Europe.
Jump forward a few years, and old Webb has died. His son, Matthew, has come to claim his part of the company. Matthew is an idealist and fresh off a disappointing stint working for the League of Nations. It is at this point, despite the satire, that you realize that the template here comes from Tolstoy rather than Waugh. Matthew is basically a Levin-like character, complete with all the tedious speeches and thoughts on how to save the world and its peoples. He becomes (with Walter's approval) the seemingly unlikely object of Joan's interest. Matthew is overweight, wears glasses, and is, at times, an utter bore. But Joan is a chip off the old Blankett block, so her interests, which revolve around controlling Matthew (and thus his interest in the company, are totally mercenary. Throw into this mix Vera Chiang, the offspring (so she says) of a pre-Revolution Russian princess and a Chinese Tea Merchant. Who knows. What we do know is that Vera, with her red hair and Chinese features, is quite beautifully. She is already a survivor of the Japanese. She is also, with her wit and heart, despite the novel's flaws, one of most remarkable literary figures I've encountered over the last year or so.
At to the flaws or flaw. Farrell obviously did a lot of research on Singapore and its history. The reader is subjected to long digressions on the labor unrest and British colonial practices. And then there's the complicated Singapore campaign, which was basically a series of British retreats in the face of a quick moving Japanese assault. But Farrell is intent to tell you as much of as he can, through the eyes of generals, soldiers (both sides), as well as the characters of the novel. You almost wished the novel had included campaign maps. The one character, mostly missing though the last few hundred pages, is Vera. The history is there, often numbingly so, leaving me to wonder just how many pages Tolstoy expended on the fall of Moscow is War and Peace. The burning of Singapore seemed endless. The burden of the historical telling seemed to at times to weigh down the story itself. I wanted more economy, while the author was intent on Epic. Whatever. Things do pick up with Farrell punctuating the story with vivid, horrific, and often bizarre moments that are the stuff of great cities falling, no matter the time or place. What sealed that fourth star was the ending, the years-later aftermath, where author and some characters occupy a moment of ease and reflection. Tolstoy would have approved of that gentle touch.