This book gave me some much-needed chuckles. Anatole France was considered by 19th Century French literary snobs to be the nation's finest man of letters. "Penguin Island" proves he was also a professional smart-ass. And no doubt this is one of his novels that got him blacklisted by the Catholic Church, his entire bibliography being added to the infamous Index Librorum Prohibitorum in 1922 (which he considered an honor).
Imagine the history of France made into a comedy by Mel Brooks. Full of bawdy and raunchy sex jokes, as well as the irony and cynicism of a Jon Stewart or George Carlin, this reads as a series of vignettes detailing key events in a fictional country from the earliest beginnings to the future.
It begins with old St. Mael on a mission from God who accidentally baptizes a population of great auks. Since the sacrament is irreversible but only meant for mankind, all the theologians in heaven appeal to God to solve the dilemma. They are surprised to find God rather lackadaisical about the whole thing, but God says that the older He gets, the more chill He becomes, as evidenced by His two testaments.
As animals, they were sweet and innocent, but ironically, after baptism they start taking on more characteristics of humans including behaving with unprecedented selfishness and sin. They learn to wear clothes, which makes them all now constantly obsessed with sex. And St. Mael is appalled to witness one penguin smite another penguin in order to steal his garden, but the saint's friend Bullock is delighted, saying, "Take care, father, . . . that what you call murder and robbery may really be war and conquest, those sacred foundations of empires, those sources of all human virtues and all human greatness."
Through not very subtle allegory, we are taken on a whirlwind tour of French/Penguin history. For example, a medieval pirate dresses like a dragon and terrorizes the villagers, which inspires his nymphomaniac wife to concoct a grift. Taking a page straight from the French legend of St. Martha and the Tarasque, the author tells the outrageous story of how she pretends to be a virginal maiden who is able to subdue the "dragon" through divine grace. She wins the veneration of all Penguinia, becomes the patron saint of the island, and her ancestors form a line of kings. The point is, of course, that our symbols of national pride may be completely divorced from their historical reality.
We then witness the Dark Ages, the Reformation, the French Revolution, the global conquests of Napoleon, the subsequent brief restoration of the monarchy and then the return to a republic, the industrialization of France, and the Dreyfus Affair--all through the hijinks of the Penguin people. You do have to have some knowledge of French history to fully appreciate this part of the book, but because the absurdity of human behavior is timeless, it ultimately won't really matter.
For example, contemporary readers may not know much about the consequences of the French Revolution, but they certainly will see the irony in the Penguins toppling a monarchy in favor of an oligarchy they call "democracy". The Penguin democracy is actually controlled by two or three very powerful financial institutions who wield so much influence over public opinion and the so-called elected leaders that it is really a democracy in name only. So though this book was written in 1908, folks today can just as easily see allegories for NGO's like the Open Society, or powerful investment firms like BlackRock, or influential lobbyists like big Pharma without having to recognize the original references.
The book does blend elements of fantasy and early science fiction. During the time of the Bourbon Restoration, people are driving cars at 100mph. A character visits New Atlantis, a highly industrialized superpower which I assume is a stand-in for the U.S., and he stays in a skyscraper hotel (which wouldn't have existed then) where the employees are all robots.
As far as the negatives, Anatole France gets a bit carried away with himself when he starts talking about the Penguin's version of the Dreyfus Affair. He doesn't even try to disguise it with many fantasy elements, mostly just changing the names of the people involved. I will outline some of these alterations to make a cheat sheet for the curious reader.
General Auguste Mercier becomes "General Greatauk". Major du Paty de Clam, the head investigator who arrested Dreyfus, becomes "General Panther". And Dreyfus himself is called "Pyrot". Instead of being accused of being a German spy, Pyrot has allegedly stolen "eighty thousand trusses of hay". Pyrot is imprisoned in a cage hung from the side of a tower over the sea, representing the exile of Dreyfus to Devil's Island in French Guiana. The fictional culprit is found to be "Count de Maubec," and the real historical guilty party was Major Ferdinand Walsin Esterhazy. Alphonse Bertillon was a key witness against Dreyfus who, though no handwriting expert, was pressured to say that a torn up note written to a German attachment was written by Dreyfus, while in the book, "Vermillard, the famous expert in handwriting" tries to convince the court that he discovered an elaborate cryptogram in Pyrot's account book that confesses the crime. Renowned French author Emile Zola was one of the most vocal activists to defend Dreyfus, and his Penguin avatar is the sociologist "Colomban". And so forth.
Other than these superficial alterations, the story plays out rather straightforward from history, or at least as we now understand the Dreyfus Affair today. So here is where reviewers begin to lose interest if they are not up on their history. Once again, modern readers will not need to know all these historical references. They will make their own associations with how "lawfare" is still being used as a political weapon and a tool to distract the public from the incompetence of government. The problem is that this section comes across as rather dry and tonally inconsistent from the more blatantly silly first half of the book. What happened to Dreyfus rightfully angered Anatole and many other French celebrities as a miscarriage of justice and flagrant racism, and eventually proved to be an embarrassment for the country. But when allegory and satire are done well, the writer can succeed in changing the hearts and minds of people. When not done well, it's just preaching. Therefore, this part of the book likely only appealed to those 1908 readers who already thought Dreyfus was an innocent victim, and certainly did nothing to convert antisemites, while today, the focus on political commentary rather than an engaging story leads people to check out.
Otherwise, I can not adequately convey just how weird and wacky this book can get, while at the same time shining necessary light on the ugliness of religious and political authority, and especially on general human nature. That being said, I understand that such blatant satire is not everyone's cup of tea. If you need your books to have a cohesive plot following the arc of a few central characters, this novel will not work. But if you like Monty Python skits or Terry Pratchett's style of comedy, this will likely not leave you cold. And if you are like me and your analysis of mass psychology tastes bittersweet, then you'll enjoy how this novel stimulates thought and conversation.
For you audiobook listeners, I thought I'd give a shout-out to Librivox, which has an impressive version available for free, complete with hammy voice impersonations and sound effects by performer Michael Sirois.
SCORE: 3.5, rounded to 4 penguins out of 5
WORD OF THE DAY: Neatherd