April/May, 1998
No. 034/VI/98
cover story
Ground Breakers
Bali's top corporate
women
Out of the Frying
Pan
The legacy of widow
burning in modern Bali
beyond
bali
Pedal Power
Cycling around Lombok
regular
features
Sidelines
The cultural
value of
Indonesia textiles
Adventure
Off-road trips by Land
Cruiser
Home Grown
Bali's surf hero of
nineties, Rizal Tanjung
Health and Beauty
Mandara's many
Bali
spas
The Butterflies of Bali
Food
Four delis that have
survived the crisis
Photo Gallery
F.X. Marit captures nyepi
on film
Jungle
Drums
advertising index for
Bali Echo web site
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The Butterflies of Bali,
by Victor Mason
Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd. 1992
Jeepers, creepers, Astuti!” cried the Ed. “This should be a damn good read!” “Crikey!” I exclaimed, hastily per using the cover of the tome she offered me.
The Butterflies of Bali. Some erudite lepidopterist's guide? A probing
investigation into daytime prostitution? Having read it from cover to cover, sorry,
imbibed its literary nourishment from commencement to completion, I can safely admit my
initial presentiments were most erroneous. This is, without a shadow of a doubt, A Ripping
Yarn.
A Boy's Own Special. A good clean adventure. Spruce and invigorating as a good old-fashioned cold shower. Healthy as a hash run through the rice paddies. Imagine an aging Great Uncle, goblet of port in hand, spinning out a thoroughly implausible tale of his reckless youth out East to a cluster of spellbound nephews gathered round a roaring fire in a stately home. Think Rider Haggard, think Robert Louis Stevenson, think Shangri-la or, if you are too young to have ever read anything beyond cartoon captions and subtitles, just think of those early Spielberg adventure; mystery, adventure, spills and thrills.
Mr. Mason is clearly at ease and proficient with the genre. His plot races along, there are numerous extraordinary coincidences, close shaves with disaster, mysteries to be solved round every corner, bold and dashing heroes and clearly identifiable villains. A lost idyllic village, labyrinthine secret passages, deeds of derring-do and hapless damsels in need of rescue - Butterflies has all this and more. I would be spoiling it enormously to give away the twists and turn of this hair-raising plot.
Mr. Mason's keen eye for detail and extensive knowledge of Bali produces richly evocative descriptions of village life, landscape, flora and fauna the passion for birds ('the local avifauna') is amply demonstrated; some readers might find the esoteric avian details (eg: by "the rarely observed, lesser-spotted paddy warbler") a tad gratuitous but you can always 'fast forward' so to speak, to the next full action sequence. Mr. Mason's other grand obsession, obscure jazz, also gets a good airing. Jelly Roll Morton Jostles alongside Chopin and Balinese gamelan.
The three main characters, 'Champagne' Charlie, the narrator, and his new found companions, Hector and Hermione boldly take on numerous perilous escapades with stiff upper lips thrust to the vanguard. They even seem impervious to hangovers which is remarkable given the copious quantities of alcohol that are consumed. Whether it’s tuak and arak in Taman Indra, "the last utopia", or vintage champagne at the Beggar’s Bush tavern in Ubud, they arise bright and undaunted. "Lets do ourselves in once and for all, and let’s do it properly! Pol Roger, wasn’t it?" cries Hector.
Subsequently one for the road inevitably developed into two or four or even more as Hector demonstrates lush skill at the piano creating "Beggar's Bush Bumps", dedicated to the landlord's lively and luscious Balinese wife." Mr. Mason's blurb does inform us that in his part time he plays publican at the Beggar's Bush, Campuan. So, what’s wrong with a little promotion in a novel?
The continual imbibing of intoxicating libations makes this a book to avoid if you're a recovering alcoholic. There is love and romance too, of course Hector is "smitten" by an "affaire die coeur" during his sojourn in Taman Indra. And after the first of Charlie’s pseudo-orgasmic rescue of Hermione in a flooded cave we know it won’t be too long before they melt blissfully, ecstatically into each others arms.
Hermione is "a game one", the sort of jolly good sport a chap wouldn’t mind having along on a jaunt. A damn fine filly, she’s described as a "wretched wench", "a most prepossessing lady of imperious aspect", with violet eyes an a "massy mane of red hair". Hector, her brother has "that bland lack of diffidence which marks the born aristocrat".
Although the novel has a present day setting, both Taman Indra's inhabitants and our upper-crust, top-drawer trio speak in a bizarrely anachronistic, but impeccably British style. "I thought I should find you tucking into a huge feed with your chums," comments Hermione. And Charlie admits to having "literary pretensions, I did tend to speak a wee bit fay on occasion".
Mr. Mason's love of an obscure and dated language (no-one 'sees' anything, they perceive or espy) while completely in keeping with the conventions of the ripping yarn, can be slightly irritating at times unless you have a hefty dictionary at your elbow. Equally, Astuti found the mythological references rather overwhelming. "Lead on Themistocles!" cries Hector. Who? I admit ignorance. However, this hardly detracts from the stories enterntainment value. You get what you would expect: a page-turner, a cheerful, bubbly romp.
So, next dark and rainy night, curl up somewhere snug, set a drink beside you, and indulge yourself. Rest assured the heroes are fearless, the heroines beautiful and game to be rescued, the villains easily vanquished. It all unfolds in a lovingly idealsied Bali complete with magic, morons, tarts of old with hearts of gold, even a wicked stepmother and a rejected swain with evil design. You just know that our fearless fizz drinkers will triumph, true love will reign supreme and a thoroughly satisfactory happy ending will have them cracking open yet another bottle. Cheers!
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