I am at page 290 of this book, and I am already disappointed; disappointed by the inept prose, the cliched
descriptions, the cartoon characters etc. Reading about Erasmus’ relationship with Sarah Wolpert is like plowing
through a bodice-ripper. Erasmus is not just a one-dimensional boob; he is a poorly drawn one-dimensional boob. Captain Thuro’s relationship to Paris is an excercise in stereotype: beetle-browed Bligh meets
misunderstood, sensitive doctor(how convenient!) - watch as sparks fly. Yawn. The description of Trader Owens and his river station brought to mind far superior descriptions of similar
scenes, to be found in Conrad("An Outpost of Progress") and Somerset Maugham. And where are the women? I detest movies that fixate on long-settled moral questions. We already know
about the crime of slavery! Why could not Unsworth throw a curve ball by showing us the thoughts, fears and
pain of the slaves themselves, particularly the wowen? I certainly do not care about Sarah Wolpert; who else is
there? It looks to me as though the Booker Committee got bored with its task and simply awarded its prize to the
longest work it could find in the story. Ironically enough, the book’s prologue is probably the best part of the work: spare, mysterious and just,
eerie enough to prompt the reader forward. Bur watch out, ye who enter here-you are being sold a bill of goods
and the readability.