Tai-Pan - James Clavell

James Clavell possesses a remarkable talent for taking a page from history and breathing life into it. Inevitably the result includes a liberal dose of imaginative speculation. But there is no-one alive today who can give an authoritative first hand account of what took place over a hundred and fifty years ago on the far side of the world. Documents from the period can at most give partial insight into events which led to the British foundation of Hong Kong and its phenomenal success. In Tai-Pan, James Clavell fills in some of the gaps in its early pre-history, retaining where possible the known historical framework, and embellishing in a wholly plausible manner to give an exciting narrative account.

The account centres on Dirk Struan, described at one point in the novel as "the personification of cleverness", leader of the most successful trading company in the Far East at that time, a character I found myself simultaneously loving and hating. His success was built on the spoils of piracy, on the profits from opium smuggling, and from the exploitation and manipulation of others; little wonder that he emerges as a gambler with nerves of steel and a streak of ruthlessness in his dealings with all who cross his path. But somehow, James Clavell manages to evoke the reader's sympathy for him. We are privy to the loneliness of his position, the political difficulties that only he is in a position to see, the cross-cultural frustrations he encounters, his fears for the future … and as such it is easy to forgive his short-comings, many though they be. And we are obliged to applaud his cleverness at times. We are encouraged in this view by the behaviour of various other characters that hold him in high regard.

In contrast, we also meet the relatively uneducated roughly spoken rival, Mr Brock. With his own peculiar brand of English which took a bit of getting used to when first reading dialogue passages, his business and social ambitions are set to clash directly with those of Dirk Struan. Despite a number of loathsome characteristics, he is not without his human side, particularly in his concern for his family.

But as with any James Clavell novel, there are very many more strands to the story. There is a continual exploration of the cultural differences between the European settlers and the Chinese, understood in varying degrees by the characters exhibiting and/or exploiting them, and particularly ill-understood by the remote politicians notionally in control of the British Empire. There are two sustained love stories and a number of other liaisons I can remember. I was entranced by the character of May-May who somehow challenges the reader to see aspects of European civilisation from the outside, her actions so frequently misunderstood, under-appreciated and under-rewarded by the Europeans she meets and serves.

There are many other characters whose lack of relish for the cut and thrust of business, or lack of stomach for the brutality of the age, would appear to make them destined for smaller parts. I could not help but identify for a while with Dirk Struan's son, Culum, who arrives from England, totally unprepared for the climate in which he is expected to be able to make his own way. Hardly living up to the expectations of the Tai-Pan's son, would he have what it takes to inherit the Tai-Pan's responsibilities? The odds were not in his favour.

From the comfort of the 21st century, there are sections of this book we can read with an element of smugness. We understand the connection between stagnant water, mosquitoes and malaria, for example; and we have developed anti-malarial drugs to treat the condition. It is hard for us, therefore, to relate to the fear and superstition that surrounded the disease in the 19th century before a reliable cure was found. James Clavell portrays the utter powerlessness that an outbreak could bring and in a slightly less-than-convincing part of the plot, the actions that might be taken by a wealthy man to obtain a cure.

We understand, too, the risks associated with typhoons, to a greater degree than the early European settlers in the Far East; although this year's tsunami has been a poignant reminder of the immense force that nature can still exert today. The pioneers in the Far East would already have experienced terrible conditions at sea, but being caught in a typhoon was still a new level of terror for them. I was gripped by James Clavell's descriptions of such events as I so wanted all the characters I had come to love to survive against the odds.

Nowadays, we tend to look back on the business practices of the Victorian era with an air of superiority, knowing that we have developed better working conditions and processes that treat contributors with more respect and achieve better health and safety standards. While it is easy to find fault with our ancestors' approach, what emerges from Tai-Pan is an understanding of brutally strong leadership in its place. Immersed in the novel it is easy to accept that in life-and-death situations there is no time for the nice idealism of modern consensus-based or even democratic decision-making. There is a certain sense in such a society employing individual cleverness where it is manifest to make its decisions for it.

As will be clear from my description to date, Tai-Pan is an epic novel. At around 700 pages, it represents a significant investment in time for the reader. The dialogue, which at times includes pidgin English (used to communicate between the English and Chinese) and at other times includes Scots and English dialects, places a still greater overhead on the reader, although the language used is also a great source of entertainment. Tai-Pan is notionally divided into six "books", but I challenge any reader to put it down even at the natural pausing points in between. I found it wholly engrossing; other work just had to remain undone until I had finished. To what extent it represents what truly happened, however, I don't feel qualified to comment.

I was surprised to discover that Tai-Pan was first published in 1966. There have been numerous editions and impressions since. The version I read is ISBN 0 340 20446 X.
If you are new to James Clavell's novels, this is a good one on which to start as it is quite independent of his earlier novels: Shogun and King Rat. I certainly recommend reading it before either Gai-Jin or Noble House which deal with later developments in Hong Kong.