Chasing the Devil: The Search for Africa's Fighting Spirit

Tim Butcher's Blood River is some of the best travel writing I've read recently, and my review of it caught his eye on Good Reads, and he reached out and suggested a couple other titles of his he thought I might enjoy. Chasing the Devil, in which he chronicles his journey, on foot, through Sierra Leone, Guinea, and Liberia, certainly did not disappoint. As with the tramp through the Congo that comprises Blood River, Butcher's West African adventure was inspired by an earlier journey, in this case that of British author Graham Greene in 1935.

What Butcher does well is to weave together the history of Greene's journey with his own hike (if a multi-week push through the jungles of three nations can be considered merely a 'hike'), along with the history, geopolitics, and especially cultural traditions of the countries through which he strides. From Chinese investment to lassa fever outbreaks, African spiritualism, to tensions between ethnic groups, Butcher covers as much ground as an author as he did on foot. And, I should add, equally competent. 

Given what he attempts to do, the sheer volume of information he seeks to impart, it would be easy for to become bogged down in the weeds. To his credit, this rarely happens, and most of the book skips along, brought to life with descriptions to the effect of "For four years the National Provisional Ruling Council junta ran Sierra Leona, although 'ran' hardly seems an appropriate description for the feuding, bloodletting, attempted coups, executions and political paralysis of this period." Not to put too fine a point on it. 

Chasing the Devil was a particular pleasure for me, as it recalled memories of my own visit to West Africa in 2019, where I experienced first hand the African rains that Butcher describes as "something extreme, aqueous bullets pummelling the ground," and so much else.

Everybody Was So Young - Gerald and Sara Murphy: A Lost Generation Love Story

 It doesn't help, I'm sure, that I read this on the heels of Jason Fagone's The Woman Who Smashed Codes, one of the best biographies I've read in ages. Sarah Murphy and Elizebeth Friedman - code-smasher extraordinaire - were contemporaries, but if they had more in common than that, I'm afraid I didn't quite get there. That's not to knock Sara Murphy, nor author Amanda Vaill, per se. Murphy was simply far, far less interesting to me, and Vaill's work far more of a traditional biography (read: deep into the weeds on every aspect of Murphy's life) to hold my attention for more than half of the book. 

That said, as I skimmed the latter half of the book, I stopped regularly to read passages of the Murphys time with the Hemingways and the Fitzgeralds; excerpts of a letter from F. Scott here or there offer the expected delight. The lines that resonated most with me were these, early, "....most unsettling, was that edge about her, that repressed wildness, that sense that..."I have no idea what she will do, or say, or propose."" Having been accused of the same, I couldn't help but laugh.

The Woman Who Smashed Codes: A True Story of Love, Spies, and the Unlikely Heroine Who Outwitted America's Enemies

Elizebeth Friedman wrote the book, literally, on codebreaking in this country. She established the agency that was the forerunner to the NSA. She hunted Nazi spies during World War II, and bootleggers and mobsters at the height of Prohibition. She did all of this while caring for her long-depressive husband, William Friedman, whose legacy was to dear to her that she quietly allowed herself to be written out of the history of all of these things rather than risk diminishing the credit William otherwise received. 

Jason Fagone's biography of Elizebeth is fascinating, both in the context of her, as a person, and his explanations of codebreaking itself. As is so often the case, I'm in awe of the brains of those of figure this stuff out, as well as Fagone's work as an author to breathe life into what could otherwise be a highly obtuse topic. (This he does is no small part by asking, for example, that the reader consider the ways in which any two people can and do develop "codes" in how they communicate; the more intimate the communication, the more encoded it becomes.) 

Four stars.