A Rising Man
Abir Mukherjee
London: Vintage, 2017
ISBN: 9-78174-701345
386 pp.
It is 1919 and the First World War has left Captain Sam Wyndham in a problematic state – his wide has died in the global influenza pandemic and he has neither family nor business to keep him at home in Britain. He has also developed an opium habit which is only partly under control. When, therefore, he is offered a job in the Calcutta police force, it seems like a pretty good opportunity to start again somewhere else. Indeed, he is kept busy right from his arrival as the murder of a white man (a ‘sahib’) stirs up European society at a time when anti-colonial sentiment was growing – not least because of the little regard paid for the sacrifices made by the Empire in winning the war (and which has scarcely been highlighted subsequently) and the repressive measures introduced to stifle any dissent. This initial crime is the vehicle by which he enters Indian society and, in particular, the Raj and the people who sustain it. It is a good story, although not ground-breaking or even very startling. However, the plot does its job of introducing the readers to what always seems to have been intended to be a series of books with the same characters.
A Rising Man has won its fair share of awards and garnered high praise. I wonder, though, whether the praise comes as much from the setting and the recognition of potential rather than the actual achievements of the book itself. Setting a series in British India now enables much more interesting things to be said about the nature of Indian society and the impact of colonization than has often been possible before. It is clear that some essential relationships have been established which will allow Sam to enter into much deeper understanding of India and Indian people than would otherwise be the case. Yet the book itself is not without flaws – there are occasions, for example, when the dictum ‘show, don’t tell’ might have been more assiduously followed. Sam himself is not (yet) terribly interesting and some of the secondary characters lack depth. I notice from the back cover that the Daily Telegraph thinks that Calcutta is ‘convincingly evoked’ but my experience of India – admittedly mostly New Delhi rather than Kolkata – is otherwise. Where are the multitudes? Where are the street food vendors? Where are the animals? This Calcutta is, if anything, a little bit sanitized and orderly. Well, perhaps this will change in subsequent episodes in which our hero’s native assistant and Anglo-Indian love interest will help him come to a deeper appreciation of what is actually taking place around him.
I have observed before that the detective story is an excellent device to explore different societies and cultures. Police officers tend to have to go here and there finding out how people go about living their lives in, so to speak, real life. Further, since there is inevitably crime involved, then we will be spared from a wholesome but not entirely accurate tour of the interesting but safe parts of the destination. In this opening episode, Mukherjee gives us a taste of railways, racism, traffic jams and the Indian Civil Service. Let us see whether these issues are developed further and new ones added in future episodes.
John Walsh, Krirk University, May 2022