Like my other books, the theme of River Spirits is the realisation of the self in an unfamiliar setting, the stranger in a strange land.
This is my version of Brazilian Amazonia, its atmosphere and the people who live there. It is the story of a young man quite unlike me, but who is obviously partly me, or part of me, who roams restlessly through a hyper-real Amazonia of Indians, caboclos (the part-Indian people who live on and around the branches of the river), gold miners, anthropologists, missionaries and lost souls, all of whom have their own distinct fantasy of Amazonia. He survives and in the end succeeds, while someone else does not.
My (ahem) modest aim is that if you like any of the following authors you will like this book: Bruce Chatwin, William Boyd (when he was writing about Abroad, and not London), Norman Rush.
A reader wrote the following (quoted with permission):
Dear Edward,
I just finished reading 'River Spirits'. I enjoyed it and read it unusually quickly.
I appreciate the amount of research behind it. I have read a lot about ayahuasca and Amazonian (specifically mestizo) shamanism, so I know about such bizarre things as dolphin spirits. What's more, my brother lives in Nepal and has investigated shamanism and Bon out there, so that rung true too.
How did you research the book? Did you go to the amazon? Did you try any of the hallucinogens you describe?
I appreciated your unwillingness to romanticise the indigenous cultures. That is unusual and refreshing. I know they can be very brutal, and shamanism is as much about black magic and power games as it is about healing.
What I found odd about your book was the incongruity of the style and the subject matter. This is not a criticism, just an observation. I felt that the narrative stance was quite cool and dispassionate, almost freakishly so. It reminded me of a existentialist narrator along the lines of Camus' outsider.
However, traditionally that perspective is born of a sort of postmodern disenchantment where nothing really matters and nothing means anything anymore. Unusual to bring that perspective to bear on the world of shamanism which is still rooted in myth, and where shamans have a meaning making function for the whole community. That, at least, is my understanding of their role (from a Western perspective).
It's certainly an original approach - the dispassionate observer in the world of magic and spirits.
Did you ever consider a more poetic approach, so that the language might have reflected the uncertainties of that ancient, crepuscular world? Maybe that would not have felt authentic to you. But despite being a Western child of the Enlightenment, I am not immune to that atavistic pull, and some of Jung's ideas about the importance of myth and meaning do resonate deeply with me.