Book Review: Henderson the Rain King (Saul Bellow 1959)
“Henderson the Rain King” is the story of a man in search of an answer. Henderson, the protagonist, an American millionaire trudging the sveltelands of Africa bumbling his way through tribal politics, customs and rituals. He is completely self-absorbed in a very weird, very dysfunctional, self-defined universe. Saul Bellow himself described Henderson this way:
As much a disease, as a man.
Henderson is a 55-year old man, who upon realizing he is quite lost in life, decides to buy a ticket to Africa and get really, really lost—not just in the metaphorical way.
What made me take this trip to Africa? There is no quick explanation. Things got worse and worse and worse and pretty soon they were too complicated.
Henderson the Rain King, p. 1
For some reason, that reminds me of a trip I took to a place that also started with an “A.” Henderson’s ego-driven journey reminds me a bit of my own. I don’t know if Henderson was an alcoholic, he does carry bourbon in his canteen,1 but the point that resonated with me was how the obsession with self (as we alcoholics like to put it) turns into self-bondage. When Henderson sees that his insane, self-defined objectives are unlikely to be achieved, he immediately concludes there could be no other purpose to his life:
I went into the world one last time to accomplish certain purposes…So, if I quit at this time I’ll probably turn into a zombie. My face will become as white as paraffin, and I’ll lie on my bed until I croak. Which is maybe no more than I deserve.
Henderson at 105.
He laments bitterly about
[P]eople [who could find] satisfaction in being. Being. Others were taken up with becoming. Being people have all the breaks. Becoming people are very unlucky, always in a tizzy. The Becoming people are always having to make explanations or offer justifications to the Being people.
Henderson at 153.
Hmmmm “Becoming People” sound like they would make fine alcoholics:
The first requirement is that we be convinced that any life run on self-will can hardly be a success…Most people try to live by self-propulsion…Selfishness-self-centeredness! That we think is at the root our troubles. Driven by a hundred forms of fear, self-delusion, self-seeking and self-pity…
Big Book, p. 60-62
Henderson blunders through Africa, inadvertently but predictably bringing disaster and misfortune to pretty much everyone who crosses his path. His hare-brained, sort of well-intentioned plans always have as their main objective the glorification of his troubled, insecure self. Frogs and water supplies are blown to smithereens. Kings are driven to fatal confrontations with their spirit animals and Henderson’s delusions are the common factor.
Like I said, I don’t know if Henderson was an alcoholic or not. But his tragic, resentment-collecting and generating trek reminded me of my own. Henderson puts his finger on the answer when he delivers his diatribe against the Being people—but that involves ceding self-direction, which sounds like surrender, which isn’t an option. In the end, it’s still not clear whether Henderson surrendered on his own, or was just too beaten down to care, but most of the hubris is gone from his expressions of kingly-wisdom.
Inhale. Your face is too white from your orphan’s troubles. Breathe in this air, kid, and get a little color.
Henderson at p. 330
It turns out treks to Africa, or other distant or difficult voyages aren’t where one finds one’s self and one’s purpose. It’s in being and breathing.
Also, this passage: “on this hot African day when the sky was as blue as grain alcohol is white.”