Norman Rush

Five years after making one of the most auspicious literary debuts of the decade with his story collection, Whites, Norman Rush gives us a major novel -- a comedy of manners on the grandest scale. It revolves around two Americans on the loose (one of them on the prowl) in developing Africa. She is an anthropologist in her early thirties, a woman men are drawn to ("Not that I'm so beautiful, unless hair volume determines beauty. I'm robust, shall we say, but my waist is good. I apparently look Irish"). She has a bankrupt thesis project and a solvent alternative plan to bend her extraordinary talents to the pursuit of, and mating with, Homo sapiens sapiens. He is a fit, late-forties utopian (considered by even his most critical colleagues to be both brilliant and charismatic) who has set up a miraculous, improbably self-sustaining Eden in the middle of the Kalahari Desert, run by and for destitute African women. The place: Botswana in the 1980s -- resonating with the dreams, ambitions, noble plans, and mischievous schemes of Africans and expatriate whites of all nationalities, descriptions, and intentions. The action: She gets him in her sights, and one of the most stimulating and satisfying courtships in contemporary fiction ensues. Before the novel has run its remarkable course through the shifting sands and comic turns of mating, the woman -- it is she who tells the story -- and the man she pursues will have turned their world, and perhaps our own, inside out.

When Douglas, the ringleader of a clique of self-styled wits of "superior sensibility" dies suddenly, his four remaining friends are summoned to his luxe estate high in the Catskills to memorialize his life and mourn his passing.

The greatly anticipated new novel by Norman Rush—whose first novel, Mating, won the National Book Award and was everywhere acclaimed—is his richest work yet. It is at once a political adventure, a social comedy, and a passionate triangle. It is set in the 1990s in Botswana—the African country Rush has indelibly made his own fictional territory. Mortals chronicles the misadventures of three ex-pat Americans: Ray Finch, a contract CIA agent, operating undercover as an English instructor in a private school, who is setting out on perhaps his most difficult assignment; his beautiful but slightly foolish and disaffected wife, Iris, with whom he is obsessively in love; and Davis Morel, an iconoclastic black holistic physician, who is on a personal mission to “lift the yoke of Christian belief from Africa.” The passions of these three entangle them with a local populist leader, Samuel Kerekang, whose purposes are grotesquely misconstrued by the CIA, fixated as the agency is on the astonishing collapse of world socialism and the simultaneous, paradoxical triumph of radical black nationalism in South Africa, Botswana’s neighbor. And when a small but violent insurrection erupts in the wild northern part of the country, inspired by Kerekang but stoked by the erotic and political intrigues of the American trio—the outcome is explosive and often explosively funny. Along the way, there are many pleasures. Letters from Ray’s brilliantly hostile brother and Iris’s woebegone sister provide a running commentary on contemporary life in America. Africa and Africans are powerfully evoked, and the expatriate scene is cheerfully skewered. Through lives lived ardently in an unforgiving land, Mortals examines with wit and insight the dilemmas of power, religion, rebellion, and contending versions of liberation and love. It is a study of a marriage over time, and a man’s struggle to find his way when his private and public worlds are shifting. It is Norman Rush’s most commanding work.

Whether they are Americans, Brits, or a stubborn and suicidally moral Dutchman, Norman Rush's whites are not sure why they are in Botswana. Their uncertainty makes them do odd things. Driven half-mad by the barking of his neighbor's dogs, Carl dips timidly into native witchcraft—only to jump back out at the worst possible moment. Ione briskly pursues a career as a "seducer" ("A seductress was merely someone who was seductive and who might or might not be awarded a victory. But a seducer was a professional"), while her dentist husband fends off the generous advances of an African cook. Funny, sad, and deeply knowing, polished throughout to a diamond glitter, Whites is a magnificent collection of stories.