A daring, spellbinding tale of anthropologists, missionaries, demon possession, sexual taboos, murder, and an obsessed young reporter named Mischa Berlinski.
When his girlfriend takes a job as a schoolteacher in northern Thailand, Mischa Berlinski goes along for the ride, working as little as possible for one of Thailand’s English-language newspapers. One evening a fellow expatriate tips him off to a story. A charismatic American anthropologist, Martiya van der Leun, has been found dead—a suicide—in the Thai prison where she was serving a fifty-year sentence for murder.
Motivated first by simple curiosity, then by deeper and more mysterious feelings, Mischa searches relentlessly to discover the details of Martiya’s crime. His search leads him to the origins of modern anthropology—and into the family history of Martiya’s victim, a brilliant young missionary whose grandparents left Oklahoma to preach the Word in the 1920s and never went back. Finally, Mischa’s obsession takes him into the world of the Thai hill tribes, whose way of life becomes a battleground for two competing, and utterly American, ways of looking at the world.
Vivid, passionate, funny, deeply researched, and page-turningly plotted, Fieldwork is a novel about fascination and taboo—scientific, religious, and sexual. It announces an assured and captivating new voice in American fiction.
Mischa Berlinski is the author of novels Fieldwork, a finalist for the National Book Award, and Peacekeeping. He has written for the New York Review of Books about Haitian politics, has tried to buy a zombie for Men's Journal, and investigated a woman who married a snake for Harper's Magazine. His writing has appeared in the Best American Essays and the Best American Travel Writing.
He is the recipient of a Whiting Writers' Award and the American Academy of Arts and Letters' Addison M. Metcalf Award.
Reading this book by Mischa Berlinski felt much like sitting around the bar (or the coffee shop, if you prefer) with a really cool friend and listening to a super engaging story. You only want him to pause long enough to order another round of drinks. You are that drawn into his world. Your mouth might gape open from time to time, when you realize there are people in the world like Mischa that run into such electrifying experiences on a regular basis. Your own version of adventure might be to have dessert before dinner. Or you might have thought you had gone completely wild when you seriously considered getting a tattoo and running off to a neighboring city. But then Mischa comes along and sets you straight. You might be a little jealous, but not enough to hate the guy. He’s too much fun for that – he’s lovable, even if a bit lazy, perhaps. Then there’s his friend, Josh, who makes Mischa look like an amateur globetrotter. Which makes you a sad sack indeed.
“There was hardly a corner of the kingdom that Josh didn’t know, where he wouldn’t be greeted by the abbot of the Buddhist temple – or by the madam of the best bordello – with a huge smile.”
So what is this book really about then? In a nutshell, this is about an anthropologist named Martiya van der Leun who committed suicide while serving a prison sentence for the murder of a Christian missionary in Thailand. (This is not giving anything away, but is the premise of the book from the first chapter.) Or instead, it might be more correct to say that Fieldwork is about journalist Mischa Berlinski’s quest to uncover the mystery surrounding both the suicide and the murder. Not only is Mischa Berlinski the author, he has also inserted himself into the story as narrator. This is, however, a work of fiction. As you may have guessed from my first paragraph, Berlinski tells this story with the finesse of a savvy conversationalist. Like Berlinski himself, we can’t help but fall under the spell of Martiya and those with whom she became connected, including both the Walker family of missionaries as well as the Dyalo people of northern Thailand.
“There is something about the life as a foreigner in Thailand that draws those who find themselves unwilling or unable to think about their 401(k)s; and in the leisure, freedom, and isolation that that Far East provides, these types swing inexorably toward the pendulum-edges of their souls… Then Josh told me about Martiya van der Leun and my soul, too, began to swing. Such is the power of a good story.”
Fieldwork covers a lot of ground, going back several generations to the original Walker missionaries who landed in this very remote, beautiful corner of the world. Martiya’s background and that of her parents are also explored. Like a true reporter, Berlinski speaks to a number of people, each of whom hold a little piece of the entire puzzle. The most fascinating parts of the novel are when the reader learns about the customs, language and beliefs of the Dyalo tribe, at least to the extent that Martiya and the Walkers are able to convey this after years of living amongst these people. There’s a lot to learn about what it means to insert oneself into another culture that is completely different from one’s own. Often more questions are raised than answers are given – in particular, the question as to how these interactions ultimately change both the observer and the observed.
“The field did to Martiya what the field always does: it scoured her and revealed the person underneath the encrusted layers of culture and ingrained habit and prejudice.”
Before I leave you with the message that this book should be more widely read, I want to point out that Berlinski also has a great sense of humor. I love a bit of humor interjected here and there into a more serious story! At one point, the son of one of the missionaries led a bit of a “double life”, sneaking off to the picture show without parental permission. I really did laugh out loud at this exchange between father and son, when good ole’ pops discovered his shenanigans:
“People in America go around watching your Star Wars or what have you, and thinking that there is something else in this world more powerful than Jesus Christ, and they forget to pray. David… I asked if there were kids at your school who had seen this movie?” “Yes.” “And what do you say to them?” “May the Force be with you.”
Fieldwork is extensively researched and intelligently written. What I admire about Mischa Berlinski, both the author and the character, is that he never attempts to be judgmental towards his “subjects”, including the missionaries and the Dyalo people. He’s obviously smitten with learning about how other people live and interact with one another. He is a champion of fairness and truth. His writing is descriptive, the dialogue is engaging, and the plot is thoroughly intriguing, especially for a reader like myself. I never tire of learning something new about the rest of humanity outside of my little place in the world.
[Note added 02.21.22] Okay, this is just great. Stephen King ripped publishers Farrer, Straus & Giroux to pieces for failing to give this novel the attention it deserved: https://ew.com/article/2007/04/15/let...
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I once read that Dean Koontz spends nine hours a day locked up in his writing office, and has done this every day for decades. No wonder his books stink! He does not engage with the real world.
Contrast that to this brilliant piece of fiction, which tells three separate stories about three different cultures with absolute precision. The first story is that of the narrator -- a modern Westerner wrestling with entirely relatable problems of employment, career advancement, laziness, marital issues (related to the three previous issues), wanderlust and boredom.
The second story follows the saga of the Walker family, committed evangelicals who, over five generations, leave the Midwest, settle in China, flee the communist revolution, set up shop in Burma, and spread from there into northern Thailand, settling among the Dyalo people. From modern society's point of view, these people are fundamentalists or extremists or whatever you wish to call them; from inside their family, though, they are simply living the only life they have ever known, entirely consistent with the rules that make up their worldview. (One of the teenagers in Thailand, on his first-ever visit to a city, notes that "it was the first time I realized there were white people who aren't missionaries.") These people are not obtuse fanatics, but simply live consistently within a completely different set of beliefs.
Finally we have the anthropology student Martiya van der Leun, daughter of a scion of anthropological fieldwork, again living within her own rules of academic culture. It's interesting that the Ph.D. student struggles to learn the Dyalo language, though the Walkers seem to have picked it up with little trouble. (Hint: being part of a group helps.)
Shame on me! I forgot to mention the fourth group, the Dyalo themselves. Perhaps because they are a preliterate society, we don't learn much of their history, but we do learn a great deal about several members of this group, and in a superficial way about their belief system and the organization of their society. In this book, the lifestyle they lead, though boring, is not without its appeal, especially to harried Westerners who believe that they may be missing the boat in our hypercompetitive society.
The book shows these stories traveling on nearly parallel tracks, and when they cross paths, the results are not always predictable (but make perfect sense in the end.) The brilliance lies in making each of these groups interesting, with interesting personalities emerging. There are a dozen characters in this book that I'd like to have dinner with, and if the food is Thai or Dyalo, so much the better.
Mischa Berlinski begins his novel Fieldwork with his narrator (playfully named for himself) quickly detailing some of the adventures of his friend Josh. I am immediately engaged. Within the first fifteen pages I learn that Josh delivers a message of inheritance to an American anthropologist, Martiya, who had lived with a northern Thai hill tribe and then is imprisoned for murder. While there, she writes two anthropological papers about life in the Thai prison and then commits suicide by eating a ball of opium. Mischa (the narrator) is intrigued, and so am I. Who did she murder and why? He initially sets out to learn Martiya's story to write a magazine article.
Mischa pieces her story together by contacting those that have known Martiya throughout her life, from her college boyfriend to the Dyalo people she lives with when she first moves to their village.
I am introduced to the Walkers, a family of missionaries who have been in the region for several generations. Originally from Tulsa, OK, the Walkers have mastered the tribal language and respect the people. They are good-hearted men and women, true believers that live the tenants of their faith; they believe the truth of their faith is so important that they can't do anything but share it. A niggle - while most of this story was fascinating, I feel that some of this could have been trimmed.
How does the story of the Walkers intersect with Martiya's?
I learn a lot about the work of an anthropologist: how boring some of the work can be, how passionately curious one needs to be to see the world through the eyes of a different culture, and how important it is to put aside one's own perceptions to see as clearly as possible.
This novel has me thinking about the changes that come about as a group of people does or does not change their faith and how their interactions with missionaries or any outsider (including anthropologists) bring change. We can never know the long-term effects. And no culture remains static; culture continually evolves and changes.
The effect of the interaction works both ways; missionaries and anthropologists are affected by the people they encounter. They learn to appreciate customs and viewpoints that are very different from their own. I can see how an anthropologist living in a culture for an extended period of time can become entrenched and possibly lose perspective.
Fieldwork is an unusual novel. Berlinski uses the mystery to propel the story while the focus is really on the people who are well drawn and relatable. The structure works well to tell the various threads and weave them together in a manner that is unpredictable and satisfying. And the writing is excellent--the descriptions of Thailand and the characters precise, unusual, and brilliant; he is insightful and compassionate with his treatment of the characters; and Berlinski has a sense of humor which is distributed throughout the novel.
Here's a quick sample.
"with all the authority of a corporate executive late for a tee time, rather than a prisoner condemned to life, she [Martiya] rose from her seat and extended her hand."
When she learns that her grandson, raised to be a missionary, is following The Grateful Dead back in the U.S.: "Laura was only partially comforted by the thought that given the group's name, at least David seemed to be involved with good Christians: if Laura's long experience had taught her anything, the only people who were particularly happy about the prospect of being dead were those who had been saved."
There's so much more to this novel than I have been able to include here. If this sounds interesting, do give it a try.
Now here’s a thing. When my mate Candi recommends a book, it’s worth listening to. Fieldwork by Mischa Berlininski is a great example of this, so please read her fabulous review of it: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Fieldwork interweaves 3 narratives: A journalist and his girlfriend living as expats in Northern Thailand, a Christian family committed to converting people, and an anthropologist living with the Dyalo people. The Dyalo are fictitious but it's based on the Lisu people from Northern Thailand. Their conversion to Christianity is central to the novel. The narrator moves to Thailand with his girlfriend, who is employed as an English teacher at an international school in Chaing Mai. He is approached by an old friend to investigate the story of Martiya van der Leun, an anthropologist imprisoned in Chaing Mai prison for the murder of a young Christian missionary. Martiya had spent a number of years living with and studying the Dyalo people. Berlinski develops a fascinating narrative that questions the ethics of both modern anthropology and Christianity. It’s an enthralling tale of anthropology, spirituality, linguistics, religion, witchcraft, sexual taboos and ethnography. Throw in a murder, a love story and the curiosity of a journalist who becomes obsessed by the story.
The writing is clever and ambitious, the conclusion is somewhat unexpected. A brilliantly researched page turner, as a debut novel it’s an utter triumph. Will I read a better book this year? I’m not sure about that. Thanks again, Candi.
This was a strange, but intriguing work. The mystery and culture were both elegant and engaging, the characters well drawn and real. However, the author was self indulgent in several ways: most obviously by casting himself as the narrator and most notably by suddenly steering away from the main story to delve into a too-detailed family history that seems like it could have been its own novel--and not one I would have read. In the end, the author reveals that he is himself an anthropologist and that this tale began as an anthropological history of Christian missionaries in northern Thailand. Only then did that awkward foray make sense: he had done the research and was going to include it whether it enhanced the story or not. Once past that, though, the story resumed and was again engaging and well drawn...that is until the end, when the fascinating mystery that had kept me turning the pages fizzles right out in an ending that stands out for how lackluster it is compared to the story that brought you there. It seems as though the author simply ran out of steam and was ready to be done with it. Perhaps, if Mr. Berlinski's inner writer can learn to better silence his outer anthropologist, his next novel will be more tightly drawn and satisfying from beginning to end.
This is a freaky little book with its twisting turning perspective, a novel that reads like a first person memoir of the motive for another person's killing. I didn't trust the form or the narrator . . . but the Grateful Dead parking lot scene seemed genuine, so I thought I'd better have a look at what other people thought of it . . . what a mistake!
I think I will stick with my original response: I wish Mischa Berlinski's protagonist Martiya had to share a hotel room at a three day conference with Elizabeth Gilbert, then I wish Mischa Berlinski had to sit between them on a transatlantic flight, then I want him to write the sequel about that.
But in case you're looking for a synopsis of what some other GR reviewers had to say about it:
This is without a doubt, one of the best books I have ever read. This story of an anthropologist who murders a missionary in Thailand reads like the best journalistic nonfic, from the details of the remote Thai tribe's customs to the footnotes that referred to specific personal letters that belonged to the anthropologist. But here's the kicker--IT'S ALL FICTION. If I didn't have so many books on my TBR, I would read it again to see how the frick the author pulled off such a feat. And he's the same age as me. What in the sam scratch am I doing with my life?! If you enjoyed books like Under the Banner of Heaven or The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America, which are true nonfiction, you're gonna get a kick out of this one.
In an afterword to this novel, the author notes that at first he was going to write a nonfiction book about Christian missionary work among a Thai native tribe, but then changed his mind. I'm so glad he did.
Fieldwork is one of those rare novels that comes along in which the quality of writing is simply exquisite. The story is good, well plotted and holds throughout the novel, and the thread of continuity never gets lost among the details. It's also obvious that the author did a great deal of research. His characterizations are vividly real and the story is utterly believable, and his sense of place is well established to the point where you can hear the birds and feel the oppressive heat of the jungle. Every so often, I had to keep reminding myself that this book was fiction.
Expat American, young journalist Mischa Berlinski (yes, he uses his own name for the main character here), has come to Thailand with his girlfriend, a schoolteacher. A local character, another expat, comes to Mischa with a story about a woman named Martiya van der Leun, who came to Thailand some years back to study a hill tribe known as the Dyalo for her PhD work in Anthropology. It turns out that Martiya had been sentenced to fifty years in Chiang Mai prison for the murder of a Christian missionary, but Martiya had committed suicide while serving her term. Berlinski wants to know how this woman went from such a promising life and career to rotting in a Thai prison, and sets out to get her story. In the course of his own research, he delves into the lives of the missionaries, the Dyalo, Martiya's family, her friends & lovers, and her co-workers to try to understand what really happened.
The book has been criticized by readers for many reasons -- the biggest one being that there's too much detail about the missionaries or about the Dyalo, and that the story gets bogged down, but I have to disagree. Just as Martiya felt she had to know things from the natives' point of view to really understand these people, the reader in this case won't really get the whole story without understanding the various factors that led up to the fateful moment that put Martiya behind the walls of Chiang Mai prison.
I loved this book and I would recommend it to anyone who wants an extremely well-written and highly intelligent novel. Books like this one are rare, so you should grab the opportunity.
This was given to me as an audio download gift from my stepdaughter, an anthropologist. We both listened at the same time. She didn't like it (thought it was too superficial a depiction of the field of anthropology and the reader got on her nerves); but I loved it.
This story had me in its grip on so many levels. First, it is a murder mystery (which I love) and I found it set up and then unraveled in a very interesting way. The reader, through the protaganist, becomes the anthropologist as you piece together the characters' lives that surround the mystery.
It made me really think about what it would mean to observe a culture and how far an anthropologist might become personally entrenched...does he/she observe or live the life of? Where is the line between observing and judging? What happens if you lose perspective? I also never thought about the frustration at not being able to unravel how traditions or rituals started...that it just exists and no one can explain why. What happens if you choose an area and really hate it? What must it be like when you find no one shares in your passion for a place and its people when it is all you are living for...except, perhaps, for missionaries? I've always been somewhat prejudiced against missionaries, but this both confirmed and countered some of my feelings. What must the re-entry from a different culture back into academia be like? It also talks about the life of expats, which I've been finding of interest lately.
On top of these thoughts racing through my mind as I read, there are amazing descriptions of Thailand...the kind that make you hungry for what the characters are eating, or imagine the heat or the smells. You know me, I started Googling images of the areas he was describing because I wanted more.
I would be curious to see if other anthropologists thought it was hokey, or if they liked the depiction of the behind-the-scenes issues presented to those outside their field. I can see where some things might be explained in the extreme, or overly fictionalized, but for me, this was one of those books where fiction has lead me to want to explore the nonfiction. It may be one I offer up as a book group pick because I think the discussion potential is good on so many levels.
I appreciated and enjoyed Berlinski's novel that infuses scholarly information on anthropology with a suspense story set in rural Thailand. It is written in a memoir form (although it is fiction). I did wonder why he used his real name rather than changing it. This distracted me at times--it made it difficult for me to separate the author from the narrator, which is important in any book that is not a memoir or autobiography. I do think it would have been helpful if he had changed his name. I think some problems stemmed from this. At times, the story seemed to digress into the self-consciousness of the narrator which brought me out of the story and into the author's consciousness.
The story is suspenseful and full of intelligent insights into human character. He takes us back to the beginnings of serious fieldwork in anthropology and shares the common threads of angst that exists between anthropologists--whether to immerse yourself into the lives of the people you are studying or whether to stay on the outside looking in. The main protagonist's (narrator) anti-heroine, the anthropologist who murdered a Catholic missionary, did immerse herself completely into the Thai culture of which she was studying and suffered (possibly) from a complete personality alteration.
I was enthralled with the author's description of the dyal, the rice ceremony indigenous to this rural culture. I do wish he had introduced it a lot earlier in order for the reader to ride its thematic importance. Instead, the author digressed quite a bit in the novel and then introduced the dyal ceremony and culture late enough for me to wonder if it was an artificial plot invention. I came to the conclusion that it seemed that way because of the first time novelist's editing problems (could have used a more aggressive editor). The dyal was central to the story but unfortunately appeared to be tacked on due to its awkward placement.
The main problem for me in reading the story was its structure/execution. It was a bit uneven, with a huge chunk afforded to the whole Walker family tree and their eccentric personalities. In the end, this had little meaning to the overall poignancy of the mystery. I do enjoy detailed descriptions of characters, but in this case it felt a little engineered as a red herring--or, perhaps the author wasn't quite sure how to balance the two cultures. It is also as if the author had not fully committed to writing either a book on social anthropology or a novel so decided to merge the two (without actually having a writer's firm control over it).
If this all sounds very negative, it is that I am slightly annoyed by these little inconsistencies that occasionally blocked my enjoyment of the story, i.e. the author writes with compassion and flare and really engaged me in this mystery, but often he got in the way of himself. By not separating Berlinski the author from Berlinski the narrator from Berlinski the protagonist, he was a distracting presence.
In spite of these problems, I was able to look past the unevenness of structure because I was so engaged in the character of Martiya. The author made her come alive for me, and I felt deeply concerned with her travails. She popped out of the pages and was so powerful a presence that I was able to overcome the stiltedness of Berlinski vs Berlsinski vs Berlinski. Her story moved me; she became legendary. Many days after I closed the pages of the book, she entered my thoughts. Martiya was original, striking, and haunting. I could almost smell her. The other characters in the story were well drawn, also, but not nearly as captivating as Martiya. Her presence and vividness is what raises a two or three star rating to a four star rating. Berlinski is forgiven his first time author flaws because he created a first rate character in Martiya.
I do recommend this book--it is rich with humanity. Martiya is a character worth knowing, the descriptions of anthropological research and its roots are meaningful, and the outcome is provocative.
Fieldwork by Mischa Berlinski is a well-crafted, absorbing novel that fuses travel, anthropology and mystery. In many respects it feels a bit like a Paul Theroux travelogue, albeit Berlinski is far kinder to most of his subjects. And while this is a work of fiction, the main character certainly bears a strong resemblance to the author in more than just name.
How do I know this? I worked with Mischa briefly in 2001. Though our ‘relationship’ can be, at best, characterized as a casual acquaintance, Mischa is hard to forget. His speech has a particular cadence, a roller coaster of speed from slow drawls to excited animation and his wit, usually dry and mellow, can also reach an acid exasperation at times. Fieldwork captures the essence of Mischa quite well, giving great life to the novel.
Fieldwork follows Mischa, a rather aimless young man, who has tagged along with his girlfriend to Thailand. Berlinski’s description of Thailand is fantastic, with particular emphasis on colors, flowers and smells. Amid the odd writing assignments Mischa learns about the story of Martiya van der Leun, a Dutch Malaysian anthropologist who murdered a Christian missionary. At first intrigued, and then obsessed, Mischa wants to learn more about Martiya’s life and how she wound up dying in a Thai prison. Fieldwork is not a who-dunnit but is, instead, a why-dunnit.
Fieldwork is rich in scene and setting, and from the very beginning has this intriguing thread that makes the reader want to continue. Then Berlinski, who inserts himself into the story (but somehow still fictionalized?) departs completely from this thread to detail four generations of an American missionary family in southeast Asia... for a good chunk of the book. Not a single mention of the first story - this Dutch/Indonesian/American anthropologist in prison for murder - until over the halfway mark. That's the story I (and probably most of the readership) wanted, but had to wait for.
Piecing together a life based on other people's impressions, observations, and interactions; it's been done before, and it is done in an interesting way here. So, gives that "fieldwork" title several new connotations.
Honestly, I didn't know whether I should be angry or impressed that he (Berlinski) was able to get away with this. But I guess it was enough to keep me going... and if it had ever gotten really bad, I would have quit. But I didn't, so there's that *glowing* recommendation.
My 3-star rating is more like a 3.75, but kicking it up to 4 stars felt disingenuous.
Stephen King recommended book. He says: "This is a great story. It has an exotic locale, mystery, and a narrative voice full of humor and sadness. Reading Fieldwork is like discovering an unpublished Robertson Davies novel; as with Davies, you can't stop reading until midnight (good), and you don't hate yourself in the morning (better). It's a Russian doll of a read, filled with stories within stories. The first belongs to the book's narrator, also called Mischa Berlinski. The fictional Berlinski is a lazy-ass journalist in Thailand who makes out — barely — reviewing books, music, and men's clothes. Mischa's friend Josh has his own story to tell. ''You ever been in a Thai jail?'' he asks Mischa over lunch, and we're off and running.
Prison is where Josh met Martiya van der Leun, an American anthropologist who studied an obscure mountain tribe, ended up in prison for the murder of a missionary, and killed herself by swallowing a ball of opium (what a way to go).
All this happens in the first 15 pages, and I defy any reader not to press on. The core of Fieldwork is the Maugham-esque tragedy of Martiya, who loses not just one culture but two, for the oldest reason in the world: love. It's also the story of David Walker, who leaves his missionary calling to follow Jerry Garcia and his bandmates across America. He is called back to Thailand — and his fatal appointment with Martiya — when he hears Jerry sing a hymn at a Dead concert in Eugene, Oregon.
It's the mystery of Martiya and David that tugs the reader through these colorful, smoothly written pages. How could two such fundamentally nice people end up as murderer and victim? Berlinski eventually provides an answer that's as shocking as it is satisfying."
He also says: "I've already written about this one, and once is enough. Suffice it to say there hasn't been a more readable story about religions in conflict since Somerset Maugham created Sadie Thompson. The fact that Berlinski gives the Christians a fair shake is a breath of fresh air."
11/19/11. We read this one for our group read and at first I didn't know if I was going to enjoy it. But I did! I really began to care about the characters and found I was immersed in looking at worlds I would never be able to see with my own eyes - the world of the missionaries and their generations of work and the world of Martyia and the Dyalo tribe. The fact that David and Maritya are both heading on a collision course adds the mystery to this novel. It's not a face-paced thrilling read, but I found it extremely interesting and moving. Stephen King chose a good one to rave about.
Suni Lee today makes this book come alive— those 7 hill tribes of Thailand and Laos—- my coworker’s wife, Mien, too.
It’s a rare book that can transport me as far Away as a Tibetan sky burial— ensconced in these faraway hills are the fictional Dyalo—
The Walker missionary family and Mischa, the guy who won’t let go and persists and persists, leaving his gf Rachel in order to uncover the mystery.
Part ethnography, part historical narrative, part mystery.. and loads of beauty.
Christianity versus animism Mentions of Dwinelle Hall, Cal Rituals and rites, hill tribe living
Even Etna st in Berkeley— all those streets like Bienvenue that start south of Dwight— all these little details made the book very personal for me, least of which is that this book was gifted to me by my patient in Portland!
The best way to get me to read something is to put a physical copy in my hands, which is what my friend Tammy did with this book, accompanied by the warning that this had nothing to with biology, as both the title and our shared predilection/obsession for that subject would suggest. So warned, I began, and was immediately swept into this wonderfully digressive semi-fictional portrait of expats, missionaries, and the hill tribes of northern Thailand.
What is and isn't fiction here was part of what made this book so compelling for me. Mischa Berlinski is both the name of the author and the protagonist (apparently a postmodern trope?), and his little author blurb suggests that like his protagonist, the author spent time as a journalist in Thailand. The level of cultural detail described seems enormous for a work of pure fiction, and the somewhat excessive number of finely-described and idiosyncratic characters gives the sense that the author was working from notes rather than imagination. Turns out there is a lot of non-fiction here: the author's note at the end and some research (read: Wikipedia searches) into the cultural practices and history of the hill tribes (Lisu, Hmong, Mien, Karen, Lahu, and Akha) suggests the Dyalo culture and the Walker family history were both syntheses of actual hill tribes and missionary families in the region. Berlinski's descriptions of Chang Mai and Berkeley are from personal experience. But none of this diminishes what seems like a genuine talent for characterization and verisimilitude.
I think it's a bit excessive to call this a "novel of ideas" as it was described by the LA Times. There are, as they point out, ideas there (faith vs. reason, epistemology, consequences of transnationalism), but I didn't feel any were addressed explicitly enough to suggest the author was attempting to wrestle with them so much as prod them gently as he walked by. I do agree with their point that Berlinski doggedly and laudably refuses to cartoon any of his characters, who include among their number Bible literalists and highfalutin anthropologists, low hanging fruit for cartooning if ever there were any. And, on the whole, the writing was unobtrusive and the stories were sufficiently captivating to keep me turning pages, and maybe learning a bit about Thailand along the way.
A lot of hard work and research went into this excellent work of historical fiction. It is fiction, as the author reminds us at the end of the book and yet, the characters are so excellently described and brilliant that you could swear that this is a biography. The main character is a dedicated, unselfish, female anthropologist doing work with a tribe of Chinese/Thais in Northern Thailand. We find out early on that she may be involved in a murder and the author painstakingly researches her life and work through interviews with her friends, boyfriends, teachers, the Thai people she is working with and finally, with a family of Christian missionaries who have been involved in missionary work in China since the 30's. The observations about differences in cultures and what it takes for an anthropologist to leave behind pre-conceived notions of God, sprirituality, morality and what makes the world tick, and then enter into a world so different and yet spiritual and religious in its own way, is the real eye opener of the book. The dedicated anthropologists who do this fieldwork have an experience vastly different and scary compared to say a chemist or physicist doing experiments in a lab somewhere here in the US.
We also get a good dose of what the Christian missionaries are trying to do and how their work can sometimes seem somewhat arrogant and un-needed. And yet, to some of the converts, leaving their old belief system and joining a much simpler belief system like "The Good News" of Christianity, can be liberating. But once our main character has virtually become a member of this Thai tribe and falls for one of the male members, she is devastated as some of them convert to Christianity.
The story is very well told and I walked away with a better understanding that this is a huge and complicated world with many interesting belief systems. I think Mischa Berlinski is here to stay. (Mischa, maybe you should come up with a more marketable name.)
Five Stars and, like Stephen King, I highly recommend that you read it.
i picked fieldwork by mischa berlinski on the recommendation of my local independent bookseller. (since that’s how i found the history of love, it didn’t even occur to me that i wouldn’t utterly fall for this book too.)
it’s an interesting premise: mischa berlinski (and we could spend the rest of the afternoon discussing the implications of a novelist naming his fictional protagonist after himself), while in thailand with his girlfriend, stumbles on this improbable murder story. an anthropologist shoots a Christian missionary.
at first i was riveted. the descriptive and accurate look into the lives of these missionaries had me dog-earing pages and desperately scrambling for pens to jot down my half-baked thoughts. somehow this berlinski guy had found a way to describe missionary life that was so bang on.
since i’m currently trying to rewrite my own missionary experience, i was frustrated and inspired by the way berlinski was able to capture the missionary mindset: the missionaries remained people–he gave a picture of their life that didn’t turn them into psychotic proselytizing machines.
and then. there are these random random tangents. mischa’s girlfriend (the fictional mischa, not the author) is nothing more than a prop. she is the typical stock female character and only exists to give mischa an excuse to be in thailand.
the way berlinski approached the book is utterly beyond me. it’s divided into sections: telling the story from every possible perspective. if you ask me, it would have been much more readable if he had simply told the story without involving his fictional self or his fictional girlfriend.
i’m not sure how to sum this experience up. obviously, the prose is brilliant, the research is impeccable. the story is complicated and interesting. should the few annoyances skew my overall perception? probably not. but they are.
Meandering around like a man looking for peanuts in a desert, this book's less satisfying than an empty sandwich. I can see how the threads relate, but when the intriguing mystery gives way to a dull, slow, muddy walk through the pages, I couldnt enjoy it no more. Too much man rambling! There are facts though! Little gems that are interesting enough. I'm gonna tell my friends about them!
I'm pissed it took me so long to read this book. I would like all the time I spent reading it, added onto the end of my life - whenever that might be. This book could have been four pages. I still would have hated it.
This story was excellent... so rich and complicated and layered and delicious to read. The anthropologists in this story doing "fieldwork" studying tribes, culture and human behavior were awe-inspiring. The author himself was clearly an anthropologist of sorts and this novel seemed a study of the intricacies of human beings and he seemed driven by a deep curiosity about why someone is compelled to do something. I happily went along for the ride. The only reason I am not giving this five stars is because the ending left me hanging... I wanted more... though maybe that is the lesson... that we rarely have a neat tied-up-in-a-bow ending. Life is complicated and varied and layered as we all are.
A novel that belongs to my favorite microgenre: anthropological fiction. (See also: The People in the Trees, Euphoria.) I was therefore predisposed to like it, which made it an even sweeter surprise when I loved it, gobbled it up really. It’s nice to have expectations surpassed.
Although it packs literary intentions, its form is reminiscent of a thriller. A brilliant young doctoral student conducting her dissertational research in a hill tribe village of Thailand finishes by killing a missionary from a multigenerational family that has sought to convert the same tribes for decades. That throughline—why would she kill him?—drags you through the narrative. But while you’re being dragged along, there are carefully observed characters and ample asides on the contrast of East/West, young/old, the person being studied/the person doing the studying. It’s an exciting tale that doesn’t rest on that alone, asking what it means for us to understand others and ourselves.
Another reviewer called this book strange yet intriguing and I can’t think of a better way of summarize it. I can honestly say I haven’t read a book like this before which usually means that it’ll always stick with me - and I’m good with that.
The plot covers the (sometimes too detailed) histories of fictional families in the Dyalo region close to Northern Thailand. The premise of the book is an anthropological deep-dive of this pre-literate culture (the Dyalo people) as well as impactful missionary efforts in the area. Just sprinkle a bit of an unsolved murder and you have the basis of this book!
An interesting read - especially when you get past the first 50% to 60% which got a bit toooo into the historical pasts of some of the characters. However the ending super disappointed me. It deserves the biggest eye roll.
If anyone is looking to change things up from their normal book routine, this is definitely a … memorable choice :P.
This novel (whose existence I learned of through Rodney's Goodreads, if I'm remembering right) was such a delight. With its thoroughness (e.g., some would say it spends too long on the various generations of the missionary family) it is a bit reminiscent of an anthropological study--appropriate to the story of a mysterious anthropologist-turned-murderer. But it's bursting with wonderful subplots & sensory details & really captures the strangeness of expatriate white Westerners' lives & degrees of acculturation in a society of the Global South.
For example, when the anthropologist stays in a remote village for an extended time, she & her Western friends speak of her as being alone--as if the people of the village were not human beings with whom she could establish real ties. As things turn out, though, she does end up establishing real bonds of love & need.
Something else I really appreciate: spiritual experiences are taken seriously & the possibilities (psychological effects or actual encounters with good or bad spiritual forces) are left open. That thread is a slender one in the story (doesn't take up much word/page space), but it turns out to be an important one.
Fascinating tale of Northern Thailand near Burma--a contemporary journalist stumbles across the story of an anthropologist from the early 1970s who has ended up in a Thai prison for killing a missionary. So you have the small contemporary story of northern Thailand, the long story of a family of missionaries, the Walkers, who arrived in the late 1890s and have yet to be deterred from their mission (converting many along the way to their Christianity). And the story of this woman, Martiya VanderLeun, a promising anthropologist who goes off to study the "Dyalo," and ends up making her life there. It is unbelievable that this is a work of fiction. The structure and characters are so well drawn; and the beautiful exotic descriptions of this land, the people, rice, the food, weather, languages. It is compelling. I wanted to read it again right away.
A great read for anyone interested in Northern Thailand, this story within a story explores the tensions between a hill tribe based on the Lisu, an anthropologist who sets up permanent residence with them, and missionaries who have worked in the golden triangle region for generations. There’s a murder mystery and a mysterious cross-cultural romance, a dysfunctional-family back story and an expatriot’s-dilemma frame story, and through it all, Berlinski demonstrates a depth of knowledge about multitudes of different worlds with a grace that left me awe-struck. I’m fascinated by Southeast Asia’s cultural complexity and America’s recentish involvement in it, and I’m aware that my fascination—or any outsider’s—raises issues of its own. He gets at all that, wraps it around a riveting plot, and makes you feel like you’re there. Man, I want to go read this book again right now.
Wow this book was awful. And I LIKE anthropology. Slow, full of meaningless subplots, and derivative. If you like anthro, read People in the Trees. If you like murder mystery, read Cuckoo's Calling. If you like comedy, read Sex Lives of Cannibals. If you like missionaries, read The Poisonwood Bible. ANY of these books is a much better read. I would never have finished this crud had it not been a selection of my book group. Truly painful.
An unbelievable that this is a work of fiction. The structure and characters are so well drawn; and the beautiful exotic descriptions of this land, the people, rice, the food, weather, languages. It is compelling.
I recognize fully that this book might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but my goodness, I *loved* it. I read it every chance I got. Over lunch and in between meetings and when I should’ve been playing with my kid and when I should’ve been hanging out with my husband. There are multiple threads of narrative and to me, each one was absolutely riveting: I devoured with equal relish Martiya’s backstory, the grand history of the Walkers in South/East Asia, the practices of the (fictitious) Dyalos and the ever-present but subtle critiques of anthrolopological work. There are many tangents and I followed them all eagerly, laughing out loud multiple times through the book. The narrator’s own life is definitely the least interesting part of the book, but i think that is by design, even if it’s a bit too postmodern.
The tone of the writing is interesting too. It reads like it was written in an earlier, less politically correct world, almost but not quite brash, reminiscent of JP Ackerley’s Hindoo Holiday. The resolution of the mystery is absurd and without much clarity, but….I bought it. This book is an extremely funny, sparkling romp. As soon as I finished it, I bought the author’s second novel which I am now currently reading.
This book was a finalist for the 2007 NBA in fiction. It has been in my TBR audiobooks since 2011 but now it can be moved to the read list.
The author is the narrator of the book (not of the audiobook, but they guy whose telling us the story in the book). In the book, he is a halfhearted journalist/writer living in Thailand with his girlfriend when he hears a story from his friend Josh about an American woman - Martiya van der Leun - in a Thai prison for murder. Josh thinks Misha might find it fodder for a story. Little did Josh know that Misha would become so involved in the story that a year later he would not return to the US with his girlfriend when her year of teaching at a private school ended. And Misha did become obsessed with Martiya and with the family of the man - David Walker - that Martiya killed. Misha tracks down Martiya's life story and David's life story. This allows the real Misha (in real life an anthropologist) to share the research he had done on Christian missionaries in China (the Walker family story) and what fieldwork is like for an anthropologist studying a remote tribe that speaks a little known language in a story about the search for the details of why Martiya killed David and then herself. It was quite an enjoyable tale.