Shout at the Devil is my second Wilbur Smith read after Eagle in the Sky and an early outing for the author. Surprise, surprise, it’s an expertly written action-adventure yarn set in Africa, in which the sights and sounds of the fetid, boggy terrain are brought to life with sweeps of the great author’s pen. Really, nobody writes like Smith; his detailed descriptions of Africa and its land, wildlife and peoples have a ring of authenticity to them that other authors miss, and at the same time he crafts fine, edge-of-your-seat adventures.
This one is no exception. From the beginning we’re in the midst of excitement and danger; there are chases by land, by sea; there are interludes in the sky and in the water; there are dangerous crocodiles, even more dangerous German bad guys and the ever-present threat from disease and sickness. There are shoot-outs and hut-burnings, ambushes and mass slaughter, and it’s all pared down to the bone, without an ounce of padding. Smith writes in broad strokes in a way that few other thriller writers do.
The two lead characters bounce off each other very well. The idealistic young Englishman, fresh for adventure, seems alive off the page; the wily Irish-American, drunk for 90% of the time, is only too real. The villains of the piece are the Germans, but Smith is careful not to paint his characters in black and white. Some of the German seamen are well-drawn, likeable, brave and heroic, in sharp contrast to the puffing, overweight, always-eating Fleischer, a truly repellent creation.
As ever, sometimes Smith’s realism is too near the knuckle. Graphic scenes of elephant slaughter are likely to offend the thin-skinned and unwary; Smith also goes out of his way to depict the effect of violence on the human body, with many gruesome interludes. A scene involving a Portuguese pilot is still etched in my mind days after reading, thanks to the brilliance of the author’s description. It’s fair to say that the climax is downbeat, but as the author himself would say... that’s life.