I am an avid fan of Wilbur Smith’s novels - or, I’d rather
qualify the statement - I was an avid fan until I read his latest book, Vicious
Circle, or rather tried to read it.
After I have read the book about halfway, I threw it aside
and decided no, enough is enough. No more Wilbur Smith for me! And one must
bear in mind that I became a fan of his books way back in the 70’s when I bought
his first book and since then I have read all his books, unfortunately also Vicious
Circle but fortunately only halfway through.
Vicious Circle is supposed to be a follow-up on the book Those
in Peril and I must admit that Vicious Circle started off well and
it was a joy to read until, it seemed to me, poor old Wilbur lost the plot and
it became just a piece of filth after the other.
Yes, my opinion is that it just became filth, nothing more,
nothing less. It was very odd for me. Wilbur is an acclaimed author. So what
happened here? Nobody knows, maybe not even Wilbur will know what happened but
he delft into the darkest and filthiest side of human nature. As if he wanted
to shock the reader, to make him sick, to annoy him.
Here a few examples:
She thrust her hips towards him and she felt him touch the
mouth of her womb. “You are as slimy as a bucket of eels down there, you dirty
bitch,” he said.
With a single stroke of the silver blade he sliced the ear
of cleanly at the level of her scalp. “Now eat it. Put it in your mouth and
swallow it,” he told her softly. “Eat it or I will cut out your eyeballs, one
at a time.” She put her ear into her mouth.
“I think we need a little blood to get Hannibal worked up.”
He swung the spade at the level of her knees. The steel cut through to the bone
and shattered her kneecap. Blood spurted from the wound. Silvestre tossed
Bryoni over the wall. She fell amongst the hogs. Hannibal led the charge of
great black bodies. He locked his tusks into her wounded leg. He worried the mutilated
limb, trying to tear off a mouthful of flesh, dragging Bryoni on her back
through the mud. Bryoni lifted her face towards the camera. “Please,” she
cried. “Please somebody help me.” Then another animal bit her shoulder and
heaved back, until he and Hannibal had Bryoni’s body racked between them. A third
boar surged forward and bit into her stomach and then pulled back, tearing out
a tangled mass of her entrails. Bryoni opened her mouth for the last time. “Daddy”!
She cried out in a piercing but slowly descending pith. And the pigs tore
bloody chunks from her body and gulped them down.
This book is definitely not for the squeamish. I had to
battle through more than 300 pages before I realized that I am squeamish, but
enough was enough.
Maybe I am too critical. But after many Wilbur Smith books
on my record, this one was just not my cup of teas.
I believe many people will like it, so try it out.
Danie de Villiers
