,I
noted earlier that BRIDE OF FU MANCHU was atypical in that Sax Rohmer
constructed it like a traditional notvel, rather than being a
concatenation of episodes. Until I re-read TRAIL OF FU MANCHU,
though, I didn’t realize that the author must have formulated at
least some of the plot-threads of TRAIL in mind when he wrote BRIDE.
For instance, during one of Fu’s many BRIDE-lectures to viewpoint
character Alan Sterling, the doctor discourses a bit on alchemy. The
subject has no affect on BRIDE’s plot, but it’s of particular
consequence in TRAIL.
Obviously,
given Rohmer’s treatment of Karameneh in the first three books, it
was perhaps a given that TRAIL would deal in part with the aftermath
of Alan Sterling “stealing” the bride of the devil-doctor,
Fleurette, long-lost daughter of Karameneh and Doctor Petrie. Fu
Manchu kidnaps Fleurette here just as he abducted Karamenehh in Book
Three, and by the book’s end the doctor swears not to do so again,
just as he (largely) left Karameneh alone following her abduction.
(In essence, whenever Fu promised to leave someone alone, it meant
that author Rohmer didn’t intend to make any great use of said
character in future.)
TRAIL
isn’t as tightly written as BRIDE, but it has a different
distinction. Every previous Fu-book used a single viewpoint
character, but Book Seven is the first one to utilize multiple
viewpoints. Alan Sterling doesn’t tell any of the story until
eighty pages in, a couple of viewpoint characters are throwaway
figures, and a couple of others are “firsts:” Nayland Smith
narrates a chapter or two and Fleurette has the distinction of being
the first female character in a Fu-novel to get her own chapter. All
of the transitions work well, and though the plot is looser than that
of the previous book, only one episode—an early subplot in which
Fah Lo Suee fakes her death for no clear reason—doesn’t cohere
with the rest of the narrative.
Another
Fah-related subplot has become a major part of the Fu Manchu
mythology. Fah and Nayland Smith don’t seem to have crossed paths
prior to her introduction in Book Three, and Rohmer barely has the
two interact afterward. Then, toward the end of this novel, Fah Lo
Suee --despite having styled herself as a person of “light
loves”—suddenly announches, in front of her father, her father’s
minions, and several captives, including Smith—that she’s loved
Smith since she first laid eyes upon him. The announcement proves so
arresting that even Fu Manchu, who’s rarely surprised by anything,
admits that he didn’t see this one coming—perhaps mirroring the
astonishinent of Rohmer’s regular readers. The only one who doesn’t
react much is Nayland Smith, though he’s rather preoccupied at the
time. Not only does he witness Fu executing his disloyal daughter
(though of course she’s back soon enough), the doctor also fully
plans to slay Smith and his allies this time, and only Smith’s
resourcefulness saves the day, making for one of Rohmer’s most
exciting action-sequences.
In
addition, Rohmer also experiments with bringing a little more
verisimilitude to his adventurous sage. Though Fu Manchu escapes
police captivity with ridiculous ease in BRIDE—much as he did in
Book One—this time he isn’t able to poof away like an Arabian
genie, nor can he conjure up bevies of scorpions and dacoits out of
nothingness as he always had before. Smith doesn’t explain exactly
what he’s done to cut Fu off from his Si-Fan network. Yet somehow,
as the novel opens the policeman has managed to make Europe hot for
the villain, which is one reason Fu returns to England, to kidnap
Fleurtte as a future bargaining chip. More central to the
mastermind’s plan, though, is his attempt to overcome his financial
embarrassment by manufacturing gold after the fashion of the ancient
alchemists. Rohmer is understandably vague about the process, though
Fu makes an intriguing suggestion that the operation involves the
sacrifice of human flesh. Aside from the technique of gold-making and
some of the mental tricks performed by the two Asian evildowers,
TRAIL departs from most of the “mad scientist” tropes seen in
BRIDE. And though Rohmer is never all that wrapped up in the
realities of running a criminal empire, it’s amusing to speculate
that Fu’s expensive BRIDE laboratory may have caused him to
overspend his resources, as much as any action taken by Nayland
Smith.
Late
in the novel Smith says to his confidante, “Seems like old times,
eh, Petrie?” But early in the book Rohmer shows a sedulous
determination to remind readers of the long history between the
policeman and the super-criminal. One chapter references “the Zayat
Kiss,” and one of Fu’s minor associates from the 1910s, John Ki,
returns for a few scenes. The novel’s greater emphasis on
verisimilitude has a consequence: the characters, particularly Fu
Manchu, are not quite as deeply mythic as they are elsewhere. But
TRAIL does boast one deeply resonant scene, which improves upon a
similar event in HAND OF FU MANCHU. In that novel, Fu Manchu needs an
operation, and he forces Petrie and another doctor to do the deed. In
TRAIL, Fu’s alchemical stratagem is destroyed, but he gets a
physical rebirth thanks to Petrie. To save Fleurette—who, once
again, never shares any scenes with the Oriental schemer—Petrie
must save Fu Manchu from the ravages of old age by administering the
exilir vitae. Just as the aggrieved physician approaches his patient,
Fu does his mind-reading trick, once more disclosing the fact that,
no matter what crimes he commits, he’s always the most interesting
man in the room:
“’O
mighty Caesar! Dost thy lie so low?’ I observe, Doctor Petrie, that
this beautiful passage from an otherwise dull play is present in your
mind… You honor me.”
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