Astonishing. Subtly madcap. An endearing, charming book. My 2nd or 3rd reading.
His name is Eugene Henderson. He's a mountain of a man, and all existential angst. He is from a storied family, owns an extensive estate in New Jersey, where he has raised pigs, and has been left $3 million (1958 US) by his neurasthenic, violin playing father. He's an Episcopalian or something, a blowhard and a bully. He's quite a talker, a sojourner in life, possessed of the remarkable gift of being able to externalize his feelings — and he is unhappy.
He is "rash and unlucky and acts without sufficient reflection" (p. 88) He seeks purpose. At 63 he's too old to become a doctor, but he gives it considerable thought. When he tells his first wife what's on his mind, she laughs in his face and he divorces her. Ultimately he goes to Africa with a friend, this travel another kind of externalization, of his lostness.
His speech to Queen Willatale of the Arnewi — he's deep in the interior of Africa now — sums up his mindset.
"Oh, it's miserable to be human. . . Just another vehicle for temper and vanity and rashness and all the rest. Who wants it? Who needs it? These things occupy the place where a man's soul should be. But as long as she [the queen] has started I want her to read me the whole indictment. I can fill her in on a lot of counts, though I don't think I would have to. She seems to know. Lust, rage, and all the rest of it. A regular bargain basement of deformities ..." (p. 78)
A few keywords. One is rash and the other is blow. Henderson is hasty and rash in his actions. Life and suffering are like blows which constantly assail him. Shuddering under the blows, however, he can be very funny and not infrequently annoying.
After he destroys the frogs in the Arnewi cistern he hightails it on foot to the far less hospitable Wariri, who put him up for the night in a room with a corpse, which he deeply resents. He decides to move the corpse. Lest, he be blamed for killing it.
"I rose and tied a blanket under my chin, a precaution against stains. I had decided to carry the man on my back in case we had to run for it. . . First I pulled the body away from the wall. Then I took it by the wrists and with a quick turn, bending, hauled it on my back. I was afraid lest the arms begin to exert a grip on my neck from behind. Tears of anger and repugnance began to hang from my eyes. I fought to stifle these feelings back into my chest. And I thought, what if this man should turn out to be a Lazarus? But this dead man on my back was no Lazarus. He was cold and the skin in my hands was dead. His chin had settled on my shoulder. Determined as only a man can be who is saving his life, I made huge muscles in my jaw and shut my teeth to hold my entrails back, as they seemed to be rising on me. I suspected that if the dead man had been planted on me and the tribe was awake and watching, when I was halfway to the ravine they might burst out and yell, 'Dead stealer! Ghoul! Give back our dead man!' and they would hit me on the head and lay me out for my sacrilege. Thus I would end—I, Henderson, with all my striving and earnestness." (p. 134)
Then he meets the Western educated Wariri king with whom he becomes fast friends. Henderson takes part in a tribal ritual, demonstrates his extraordinary strength, and becomes the Rain King. He admits to the king his longing for personal meaning in his life. But all is not well in Wariri-ville. There is politics here, too. Henderson learns of a cabal that is set against the king, who, the cabal believes, has become too westernized, too cut off from the traditional beliefs. Toward the end, the enlightened King helps Henderson to work through his emotional issues by introducing him to Atti, an immense tigress. I'll say no more. Read it, please.