Publisher's Weekly Review
Atxaga has been compared to Conrad, but the writer's captivating literary anthropologies don't seek to edify or shed light on the human condition. In his new, shamefully enjoyable novel, set in the Belgian Congo in the early part of the last century, the arrival of a devout and taciturn young officer into a contingent of colorful colonial soldiers on a remote jungle outpost on the River Congo sets off a palpitating chain of events. Chrysostome Liege is the best marksman in the Congo, a fact that his commander, the highfalutin poet-officer Capt. Lalande Biran, decides to use to his advantage-first using Liege to restore order in the bush, and then for more personal reasons. Captain Biran's beautiful wife wishes to acquire a seventh property in France, in fashionable St-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, "one of the most expensive places in the civilized world," forcing him to engage in a risky contraband scheme with his covetous subordinate, the psychotic Lieutenant Van Thiegel. Atxaga possesses an uncanny gift for details bordering on the forensic, and he breathes life into this bevy of invariably perfectly pitched characters-from Captain Biran's cowardly orderly Donatien to the mysterious Club Royal bartender Livo, who finally decides to take matters into his own hands when Van Thiegel perpetuates one final, inexcusable outrage. Nearly impossible to put down, Atxaga's thrilling colonial masterpiece pulses with a kind of elemental power, like the Congo River itself. (Sept.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Guardian Review
Democracy brought a flowering of Basque literature with Atxaga as its star. Inevitably the author became identified with Basque nationalism and was expected to take a view on politics and ETA's terrorism. Subsequent novels seemed to bow under this pressure, but what's refreshing about Seven Houses in France is that it is not about the Basque country at all, but about the Belgian Congo at the start of the 20th century. Captain Biran commands 18 officers who oversee the production of rubber and mahogany by slaves, keep the Congolese rebels at bay and shoot monkeys for fun. The carnival of characters - midgets who have voices like ogres, tyrants who are also poets - is something we have seen before in fiction, but Atxaga's story is fresh and his treatment of violence psychologically rich, for which Margaret Jull Costa must take some of the credit. She is wonderfully good at bringing out the humour, colour and warmth in Spanish writing, qualities that can get lost in translation, especially when the subject matter is so grim. - Miranda France Democracy brought a flowering of Basque literature with Atxaga as its star. Inevitably the author became identified with Basque nationalism and was expected to take a view on politics and ETA's terrorism. - Miranda France.
Kirkus Review
The title alludes to the brutal exploitation of rubber-tappers in the early-20th-century Congo, for Capt. Lalande Biran of the Belgian Force Publique has promised his Parisian wife seven houses with the proceeds of his licit and illicit dealings. Biran is one of many merciless Belgians in the service of King Leopold in 1903, yet in some ways he's the most urbane of them all, for he's a poet and a cultivated man of letters. Every week, however, he has his orderly Donatien procure him a native girl--and she must be a virgin owing to his fear of contracting a disease. (Biran's usual habit is to give the girl to Donatien after his carnal desires are sated.) Second-in-command is Lt. Richard Van Thiegel, who keeps a list of amorous encounters by the race of the girl he exploits. When Van Thiegel finds a picture of the captain's ravishing wife, he decides to make her number 200 on his list once he leaves the service. Introduced into this morass of corruption is Chrysostome Lige, a new soldier in the Force Publique, and one who doesn't fit the mold. He's a crack shot, is devoted to the Virgin Mary and doesn't seem to have an interest in the native girls, a fact that Van Thiegel begins to exploit by referring contemptuously to Chrysostome as a "poofter." Biran tries to speed up his ability to acquire his seven houses and is able to when the price of ivory and mahogany, both of which he illegally harvests, soars. Meanwhile, as a public relations gesture, Leopold is sending a statue of the Virgin Mary to the Congo, and the soldiers must prepare an adequate welcome. Like Heart of Darkness, with which similarities abound, this narrative is both tragic and traumatic.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
Acclaimed Basque fiction writer Atxaga has written a number of complex character studies (e.g., The Accordionist's Son; The Lone Woman) that portray individuals complicit with politically motivated violence, and here he returns to that powerful theme. This masterly, deeply unsettling novel takes as its subject one of the darkest chapters in human history-Belgian King Leopold II's cruel and pitiless exploitation of the Congo in the early 1900s. This is ground Joseph Conrad explored in The Heart of Darkness, and Atxaga is obviously revisiting that famous novel. The primary theme is the evil power of political ideology and how it can fuel violence and create conditions that lead to atrocities. The Belgian army officers at the center of this novel blithely assume an absolute cultural and moral superiority-a belief that enables them to enslave and exploit the native population remorselessly. There is a warning here for modern readers about the dangerous link between ideology and catastrophic violence. VERDICT Chilling and unforgettable; recommended for fans of literary fiction.-Patrick Sullivan, Manchester Comm. Coll., CT (c) Copyright 2012. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
