A review by fionnualalirsdottir
The Dream of the Celt by Mario Vargas Llosa

Roger Casement by Sarah Purser, oil on canvas

Hmm. Fictionalised biography. Is it a good idea? Can it be successful? How best should it be done? [b:The Dream of the Celt|12980712|The Dream of the Celt|Mario Vargas Llosa|https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1333045161s/12980712.jpg|14356896] caused me to ask myself such questions and more.

The way I understand the genre of fictionalised biography, the author gets to create memories for his subject, to reveal intimate details about his life, to attribute motives to his actions, to put words in his mouth. It is no accident that most fictionalised biographies are written after the death of their main characters. Those that have been written in their subjects' lifetimes tend to be surrounded by controversy. After all, the subject becomes the author’s creation even if he is dressed in authentic garments provided by background research. He becomes a puppet for the author’s sole use, his life the clay with which the author shapes his narrative arc.

But, you say, some historical characters have such extraordinary life stories that to tell them as straightforward biography is missing a great opportunity to create an astounding tale of intrigue and suspense. Furthermore, you might point out, in the hands of an author with a major literary reputation, such a fictionalised biography must be a valuable addition to the world of letters. Hmm.

Being aware of Vargas Llosa’s reputation and knowing a little of Roger Casement’s exciting and controversial life from school history classes, I was eager to read The Dream of the Celt. What could go wrong here, I thought. Casement, born in Ireland, became a British diplomat and eventual human rights activist when such a role was almost unknown. He campaigned for the freedom from virtual enslavement of the natives of both the Congo and the Peruvian jungles, raising awareness of the exploitation carried out by the rubber industry in both places during the last decade of the 19th century and the first decade of the 20th. In his final years, he turned his back on Britain and devoted himself with an idealist’s fervour to the cause of Irish nationalism,

Spoiler

actively seeking German aid in the form of guns and military power for the Irish freedom fighters even while Britain was at war with Germany. He was tried as a traitor to the British crown in 1916, his controversial life and fate being further compromised by the opportune leaking of diaries describing his real or imagined homosexual trysts with very young men in brief but unambiguous detail

. What a fascinating story, I hear you say, a biographer’s dream. A literary figure like Vargas Llosa must surely work magic given such ingredients.

As I read the pages and pages of plodding writing, of repetitions and banal expressions, of bizarre time shifts, of bland and pointless reporting of Casement’s intimate thoughts and memories, of altogether too many uninteresting words, I wondered what Hilary Mantel might have done with the same material.
Something outstanding, I’m certain.