Pretty decent novella. Originally intended to be a non-fiction biography of a famous slave trader. The author felt he hadn't managed to get hold of enough facts so changed a couple of names and published it as fiction.

A very rich and vivid descriptive style. But its still essentially a biography an i'm not a big fan of bio's.
Many books are more fun to 'have read' than 'to be reading' this is the opposite. Fun to read due to the style but didn't feel like i took away too much from the experience. Also quite short. ( )

> Babelio : https://www.babelio.com/livres/Chatwin-Le-Vice-roi-de-Ouidah/92371

One hundred and seventeen years after his death, Francisco Manoel da Silva's descendants still gathered yearly in Ouidah for a Requiem Mass and dinner in his honour. This was far more that an average family gathering, for when Dom Francisco died back in 1857, "... he left sixty-three mulatto sons and an unknown quantity of daughters, whose ever-darkening progeny {were} now numberless as grasshoppers".

This 'ever-darkening' aspect was one that worried the descendants, attached as they were to what they perceived to be their European origins, feeling that somehow this elevated them above the citizens of Dahomey, Nigeria, Zaire, Togo and other countries they had populated. The da Silvas clung to the past, calling themselves Brazilians, for that is where their ancestor had been born. They clung to this idea of whiteness, pointing to Dom Francisco's last surviving daughter, Mlle Eugenia da Silva, "... a skeleton who happened to breathe". The unthinkable was now happening, even as they feasted. Mlle Eugenia, their Mama Wéwé, was dying. They would have to drop all pretence.

Francisco da Silva had first come to the shores of what is now Benin in 1812. He represented a Brazilian company that bought slaves from the King of Dahomey to supply Brazilian planters, in exchange for guns, rum, and whatever else might take the King's fancy. Da Silva dreamed of returning to Bahia. In the meantime, he built a house, just like the his Brazilian partner's.

This all sounds as if the author sees Africa through imperial eyes, as a continent whose only purpose is to be exploited, whose people are as much a commercial resource as palm oil or gold. That may be true of the da Silvas, but Chatwin manages to give his tale a twist, so that the man who comes to make his fortune winds up a slave himself, a hostage to the King who has made him his blood brother, so tying him with invisible bonds to his macabre throne and to the country da Silva would plunder and flee.

There are many novels by non Africans of Africa defeating those who would exploit it. There are echoes of some of them here. This is Chatwin's first novel, and it is obvious Conrad and Greene were strong influences. However, it is also obvious Chatwin cannot equal either. At times, images of Flashman pop unbidden to mind. While Flashman fans are legion, it is probably not a style Chatwin was striving for. While at times the writing is lush, there is an off kilter feel to it, a feeling that Chatwin couldn't seem to decide between horror and adventure.

Perhaps this is in part because there was a real life Francisco Manoel da Silva, Francisco Féliz de Souza, whose descendants actually do gather annually to honour him. While Chatwin has his family mourning the "...Slave Trade as a lost Golden Age when their family was rich, famous and white", it is difficult to imagine today. Yet the website for the Ouidah Museum of History, after stating de Souza managed the slave trade for Dahomey, adds "To this day, the descendants of de Souza hold a place of importance in Ouidan society". Even Werner Herzog has taken on this story, with his 1987 Cobra Verde, with Klaus Kinski as da Silva. Not really recommended; in the end, this is probably a book best suited to Chatwin completists.

At only a hundred pages, this is more a novella than a novel but Chatwin's classic definitely punches above its weight. A splendid history of a Brazilian slaver who came to Dahomey, Chatwin uses every single word to maximum effect. A lesser writer could have put together a novel twice its length, but with only ten percent of its power. This is magnificent stuff. ( )

"La familia de Francisco Manoel da Silva se había reunio en Ouidah para honrar su memoria con una misa de réquiem y una cena. Era una de las habituales tardes sofocantes de marzo. Hacia ciento diecisiete años que había fallecido". Así comienza esta novela nacida de uan auténtica epopeya multirracial: la historia rocambolesca de un negrero brasileño y sus venturas y desventuras en medio de una civilización africana primitiva. ( )