Readers daring to reach for British author Mo Hayder’s mind-twisting novel, The Devil of Nanking (2004, Penguin Books, 471 pages), must brace for some of the most harrowing passages imaginable. Full of terrifying violence, this story may cause nightmares, even heart attacks.
With two protagonists – Grey, a fragile British woman, and Shi Chongming, an aged Chinese professor – the tale alternates between modern Tokyo’s grimy nightlife and 70-year-old atrocities in wartime China. For different, yet related, reasons, the leading characters obsess about the infamous brutality in Nanking, where up to 300,000 people died as Japanese invaders ran amuck and butchered defenseless civilians.
Time can’t dim lurking evil, as Grey quickly learns when snooping in the lair of Junzo Fuyuki, an elderly gangster and ex-soldier. His murderous sidekicks deliver cruel retaliation. Murder, mutilation and cannibalism – nothing’s taboo.
“Jason… I stared at what was left of him for what seemed like hours, astonished by the patterns – the braids and furbelows, the little scrolls like Christmas decorations. How could it look so beautiful?”
Hayder’s research on wartime China appears flawless. Frantic actions blend seamlessly with powerful emotions.
“I jumped up and ran in the direction of my house, the sound of my breathing and my footsteps drowned by the rumble of tanks and the shrill peal of whistles coming from behind me. I ran and ran, my lungs screaming, my pulse thundering, on and on….”
The author conveys the horrors of war crimes without always describing every detail.
“We crept to the head of the alley and peered along the deserted street. There wasn’t a sound or a movement anywhere. Not even a dog. Only rows and rows of shuttered houses, blackened with soot, an abandoned handcart upended against the front of a house. Small fires burned on the roadside and in the direction of the river the sky was red with flames.”
In occupied Nanking, Shi and his pregnant wife face starvation. As much of the city burns, they often sniff the tantalizing aroma of cooking meat. How could neighbors have meat when they have nothing? Much later, Shi realizes that the smells come from scorched corpses.
“From this tiny window, I can peer out through the lattice and see what the Japanese have left of her (the city); her blackened buildings, the empty streets, the corpses piling up in the canals and rivers.”
Hayder writes with a gritty realism. Like Grey, she has worked in Japan.
“The day was so interminably hot that the pavements were gooey underfoot. Condensed sweat dripped out of the air-conditioners onto the pedestrians below, and Tokyo seemed ready to slide off the continental plate and slip sizzling into the ocean.”
The author, a degree-holder in film-making and creative writing, has two earlier books, The Birdman and The Treatment. Aptly, she dedicates The Devil of Nanking to another writer, Iris Chang (1968-2004) whose non-fiction account, The Rape of Nanking, led to personal tragedy.
For all its clout, The Devil of Nanking still falls short. The protagonists seem too flawed to evoke full sympathy, and despite frequent high tension, the action sometimes lags.
This story of Japanese misdeeds brings to mind that the greatest modern atrocities against Chinese people have come at the hands of their own government. Maybe that’s a deeper tragedy.
Tally this book as a good yarn on a grim topic. “One death is hardly worth mentioning in this city where the devil stalks the streets.”
Approval rating: 63 per cent.
For more information: www.penguin.com
(December 5, 2007)
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