Today’s post begins with a mea culpa to the author of this book, Mr. Litka. You see, I was meant to beta read this book in early March. Unfortunately, from March until last week, my day job took up a huge amount of time. Indeed, it began to turn itself into my night job as well, much to my chagrin.
And so, I only had time to read about a few pages per night. Which meant my “beta reading” became just regular reading, as Passage to Jarpara‘s release date came and went, with me still failing to finish it.
This is to my shame! I have failed in my duty. I have already given myself 20 demerits and forced me to run laps.
Now, the good news is that I did finally manage to finish Passage to Jarpara, and let me tell you, it is a wonderful story. I think it is my favorite of Litka’s Tropic Sea trilogy, and that is saying something. Taef Lang and his new wife first make a visit back to his home, where among other things, they hunker down with his family ride out to a heavy storm. (Fun fact: I read this part on a day when a major storm system was sweeping through my own neighborhood.)
After that, Taef, his wife, her sister, and her sister’s husband, set out on a trip for Jarpara, with Taef hoping to land a job at the university there. However, always seems to happen to Lt. Lang, nothing is ever straightforward. Indeed, if you’ve read the other Tropic Sea books, you may recall that Sella Raah believes Taef has a special talent, or maybe a curse, to always have interesting adventures in the vein of the fictional character from the novels he read in his youth, Zar Lada the explorer.
And speaking of Zar Lada, Taef gets to do what every reader of a beloved series dreams of: he meets the author of those books, and many other books as well. Anjer Lad joins the story late, but he might be my favorite character in the whole series. He’s a wise old writer who has traveled widely and written many stories based on his experiences. And he is on a journey to find a mysterious island, reputed to be haunted, that he had heard of in his youth.
I love Anjer, because in many ways his experience is the universal writers’ experience: he’s searching for The Story. The one that will capture all the magic and wonder of the world in words. And also like every writer, even after he’s had a truly remarkable experience to relate, he feels somehow… disappointed:
“You know, Taef, all my life it seems, I’ve been searching for something far out of our ordinary life. Island to island I have traveled looking to find more than the mere legend of the supernatural, the gods and demons, monsters and myths of the Islands. I’ve been content–well, almost content– to find just enough traces of them to use in my stories, and to keep on searching. […] And now I’ve actually found something that is truly extraordinary, out of not only everyday experience but unimagined. And you know what? As extraordinary as this is… I can’t help but feel somewhat let down.”
“I guess, if I look closely enough, all of this is based on known facts. Underneath all of this wonder, is the mundane. A logical, historical explanation. And that, I find, isn’t what I’m looking for.”
The curse of the writer! We want the magic, we want the transcendent! Always searching; never entirely satisfied, it seems. Anjer’s quest is the quest of all storytellers.
Anyway, Anjer’s qualms notwithstanding, there is plenty that is magical and extraordinary going on in this tale. It’s a fascinating blend of old-time seafaring adventure and science fiction. It has both pirates and robots in it. How many books can make that claim?
And yet, with all that, the dominant feeling it left me with is that of coziness. Litka is like Wodehouse in that his worlds always feel warm and welcoming, even when there are wars, storms, earthquakes, or possible supernatural monsters. Somehow, there is always a feeling of optimism underlying it all. A welcome relief to in a literary world full of darkness and cynicism.
It so happens that my mother is currently reading Litka’s The Girl on the Kerb after I recommended it. Talking about it with her has made me remember what an enjoyable ride it is, and again, while it is a story set against the backdrop of a mounting threat of war, it still manages to have a Wodehousian lightheartedness about it. I think it really boils down to the upbeat nature of Litka’s heroes. Like Taef Lang, Henri Hardy of Girl on the Kerb is a humble, loyal, and good-natured, and that makes the whole book feel like you’re listening to a fun yarn told by an old friend while the two of you sit down for a cup of tea.
Passage to Jarpara is another entry in Litka’s growing catalog of stories that feel as though they somehow came to us from a different, and much more pleasant, world. Come to think of it, perhaps Litka is Anjer Lad, a kindly teller of tales who just wants to be able to share a feeling of otherworldly awe with the rest of us. If so, he has certainly succeeded.