Review: Riallaro, the Archipelago of Exiles

Riallaro, the Archipelago of Exiles by John MacMillan Brown
My rating: 0 of 5 stars

I put this on my e-reader a while back, and had forgotten the details, so I vaguely thought it was a utopian novel like Erewhon . That certainly seemed to be where it was going at the beginning: a group of gold prospectors in Fiordland (New Zealand's most remote region) stumble upon a man who speaks English with a northern accent, haltingly at first, as if he hasn't been using the language for some time. He appears to have got where they are using some sort of winged contraption. But this is just a frame story for a book that is much more like Gulliver's Travels.

The unnamed man, having inherited a steam yacht, and disillusioned with western civilization and its discontents, sets out in search of a theorized idyllic land populated by noble savages, which he hopes to find in a mysterious area of the Pacific surrounded by mists. However, what he finds there is a group of islands where the inhabitants maintain their biases by exiling anyone who doesn't fit in with their way of thinking to one of the other islands. It's an elaborate, though fairly obvious, satire on western, or at least British, civilization, told in verbose and mannered language that contrasts with the rough gold prospectors of the frame story, who are theoretically conveying it to us. Sample:

Nor must it be held an inconsistency in them that they thought money the root of all evil... They despised it and hated it. And lest it should do to their neighbours the harm for which they feared it and loathed it, they gathered as much of it into their hands as they could. “They swallowed the devil” again, according to their own proverbial phrase, as the best means of preventing the mischief he might do to others. It was one of the most altruistic of their principles, they considered, this accumulation of wealth in the hands of a few, lest the many should suffer. They could hedge the monster round and narrow his sphere of operations. And every provision had been made by the state for centuries that he should not approach the masses with his foul influence. It was the gilded classes of the marble city that could alone withstand the evils he worked, and amongst them therefore was he imprisoned. They were, so to speak, the turnkeys of this vampire of commercial races; and in their duties they were all vigilant lest he should escape and work irremediable havoc amongst the rest of the nation.

Which says the exact same thing at least three times, in case you miss the point. It was this style that caused me to stop reading, having obtained about as much entertainment as I was likely to get out of the book.

Interesting historically, though.

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