Passarola Rising
This is the first novel by Australian Azhar Abidi and it’s extremely accomplished. It’s set in the age of Reason, the mid eighteenth century, and stars two brothers who build an airship and start exploring the world. Voltaire makes an appearance amongst a cast of famous names. The descriptions are beautiful and story moves along quickly; and it’s very believable, too. Apparently the two brothers really did design an airship, although they didn’t actually build it and try to fly around the world. But if they had, you can imagine they’d have come up against all the things detailed here – the inquisition calling them sorcerers, the government using them for their own meaningless military objectives, and the philosophers of the day denying the wonders they see on the basis of cold reason.
In the end, the two brothers part company. The narrator chooses an ordinary life, marrying, becoming a businessman and a father. The older brother continues to fly and eventually dies with a vision of a great bird-griffin – the passarola – clearer than anything else in his life. A short life but a good one, the younger brother thinks wistfully – but only occasionally.
It’s a good book for a first writer, and it has all sorts of famous people singing his praises on the front cover. All sorts of famous men, I should clarify; because there are really no women in the book at all. There’s the early temptress and a later wife, both faint ciphers. The real world, says the author, is peopled by men; there aren’t even any women in the background. That’s why it’s a good book, but not a great one – in fact, I find it quite terrifying.
In the end, the two brothers part company. The narrator chooses an ordinary life, marrying, becoming a businessman and a father. The older brother continues to fly and eventually dies with a vision of a great bird-griffin – the passarola – clearer than anything else in his life. A short life but a good one, the younger brother thinks wistfully – but only occasionally.
It’s a good book for a first writer, and it has all sorts of famous people singing his praises on the front cover. All sorts of famous men, I should clarify; because there are really no women in the book at all. There’s the early temptress and a later wife, both faint ciphers. The real world, says the author, is peopled by men; there aren’t even any women in the background. That’s why it’s a good book, but not a great one – in fact, I find it quite terrifying.

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