There were many landscapes that Graham Greene had charted and chronicled throughout his career as the twentieth-century's most prolific and consistently thoughtful storytellers, be it the Indo-China of the 1950s, Haiti of the 1960s and even the South America of the turbulent 1970s. But of all these landscapes, there has been one region that has always intrigued and fascinated his imagination, even showing up in one of his children's books and later novels. That region has been Africa, the Dark Continent, a region still in the throes of mystery and enigma, the milieu of such diametrically opposite novelists such as Henry Rider Haggard and Joseph Conrad. It is worth noting here that both these writers had exerted their influence on Greene as a storyteller; he was able to blend the awe-inspiring wonder and atmospheric darkness of Haggard's adventures with the gritty deconstruction of sordid truths that Conrad was known for. It is therefore heartening to discover within the pages of this slim collection of two journals these two elements, wonder and apprehension, adventure and introspection, which are served in Greene's typically assured style to make for another compelling reading experience.
Greene wrote two novels and a travelogue set in Africa and each of these works was distinguished uniquely from each other, thus revealing the extent of his observations of this territory. "Journey Without Maps" took him across the breadth of Liberia, an actually unmapped country founded by the freed slaves of Africa; "The Heart of The Matter" was set against the British colonial outpost of Sierra Leone and "A Burnt-Out Case", most dramatically, led him into the depth of Belgian Congo and the discovery of suffering caused by the debilitating disease of leprosy.
It was this particular novel that warranted Greene to undertake a journey and also maintain a journal of experiences, discoveries and reflections, all of which he could then blend organically into his novel. The Congo journal begins thus with Greene on a flight to Leopoldville with only a fragment of the intended novel in his mind: "The novel is an unknown man and I have to find him..", writes the author and it is in the alternately baffling and beautiful world of the Congo where this search would be conducted.
Hardly has he landed, inhaling "the smell of Africa" that the reader is suddenly aware of that distinctive aroma of danger and intrigue in the air. The streets of Leopoldville are in the state of a tense patrol due to riots and a dinner with a businessman later, we are also given a peek into the brothel life of the city. We are assuredly back in Greeneland, one thinks of affection which soon matures into admiration and even exhilaration.
The Congo journal lasts for about seventy five pages and for a month and a half. In that duration, Greene was able to collect an astonishingly vast store of information, experience and observations, all of which he would fold in seamlessly into the book. There are the pivotal characters of the priests of the mission and the doctor of the leproserie whom he encounters, initially in Yonda and then in the crawl up the river to Imbonga and Lombo Lumba; there is the milieu of the leproserie, the minutiae of their work, from the doctor's visits to the dosage of DDS medicine, right down to the portraits of these unfortunate victims, rendered faithfully in the deftest strokes. And there is also a seamlessly woven layer of stirring travel writing that Greene perfected all through his career.
There is a certain, subtle yet arresting style always to Greene's descriptions of these places, be it in his novels or even memoirs. His ability to encapsulate the essence of a place in a succinct paragraph or even a simple sentence is indeed unrivalled; it owes a lot to his well-known penchant to introduce his characters and depict his conundrums dextrously. It is the kind of precise, witty and even immediately entertaining style that one would find in the travel documentaries written and narrated by Michael Palin. When describing the Congo riverbank, for the first time, here's Greene pointed but usually vivid observation: "The great trees with their roots like the ribs of ships" or "Egrets like patches of snow stand among the small coffee-coloured cattle". When on the actual river, halting only at missions or to take cargo or supplies, his descriptions become even more supple and sublime: "The colour of the water a polished pewter; the clouds seem to shine upwards from below the pewter surface."
Such stirring clarity is not just limited to these vignettes of the place and its distinctive qualities. It is also to be found in the miniature portraits he renders of the people he encounters on his experiences. We should not forget this author's skill in describing moral complexity and so the little but precisely observed portraits of the priests in the mission and then on the boat, of Father Georges, and his thirst for hunting birds and small game are utterly gripping, as are the compassionate descriptions of the bewildered victims of this abominable disease.
Convoy to West Africa, the second and smaller journal in this book, is marked by a lingering atmosphere of paranoia and suspense. This smaller collection of observations was written nearly twenty years before the more languid and introspective Congo journal; Greene admits that he had not kept any journals during his stay in Sierra Leone that actually inspired his other African novel. However, this journal begins thrillingly with the author tearing up his uncensored letters from the taxi in Liverpool and ends memorably with the first glimpse of Africa, thus coming full circle from the beginning of the book, with Greene again inhaling the "smell" of this region. In between, the author weaves in compelling and superbly characterised vignettes of a journey by sea crammed with fears of being torpedoed during the war and also of the unique and eclectic characters reacting variously to these fears on board.
In the space of little more than a hundred pages, thus, in these two journals, Greene is able to evoke sensations and scenes of exploring a new land and even undertaking a journey. "In Search of a Character" is commonly described as an insider's view into the mind of a writer, filling up the background of a novel and collecting material at all times but it is also the map of the complex beauty and character of a continent as well as the complex personality of the man himself. We learn intriguing things about Greene's life as much as about Congo or the wartime atmosphere of the convoy's journey as well and what these journals both reveal both distinctly is his voracious appetite for reading, from revisiting Conrad and Dickens on the Congo to reading Huxley and Ambler on the ship to escape boredom and fear of certain death.
In the hands of a lesser writer, these journals would not have amounted to anything significant. But given Greene's peerless skill and seemingly inexhaustible reservoir of stories, which meant that he always had something new to regale or enthral his readers, these two journals end up becoming excellent and entertaining reading experiences, as multi-faceted and mesmerising as anything else that he had written. This is a book marked with that same incisive intelligence and empathetic objectivity that distinguishes him as a great novelist.