Denial is a River in Egypt
A Critical Review: The English Patient and the Ethics of Historical Erasure
Subject: Michael Ondaatje’s The English Patient (1992)
Context: The Development of The Rebecca Affair and the Ethics of Espionage Narrative
To the reader of The English Patient, the experience is often one of immersion in a lush, atmospheric romance set against the backdrop of World War II. It is a high-brow example of the genre, winning the Booker Prize and captivating audiences with its fragmented, dreamlike structure. However, for the author looking at the story anew, and for any writer attempting to navigate the treacherous waters of historical espionage, Ondaatje’s novel serves as a cautionary tale—a prime example of how not to write when the goal is to expose the systemic rot of colonialism and the truth of human behavior.
The Contradiction of "Truth by Lying"
Ondaatje’s central thesis is "truth by lying"—the idea that strict historical accuracy stifles emotional resonance. He argues that by inventing a heterosexual affair for the real-life gay explorer László de Almásy, he could better explore universal themes of love and betrayal. While this approach creates a compelling romance, it fails as a historical critique.
By substituting the real Almásy’s homosexuality with a heterosexual adultery, Ondaatje commits a specific act of revisionism:
1. By the erasure of Systemic Oppression: The real Almásy lived in a world where his sexuality was a criminal liability, an "open secret" in the diplomatic demimonde that required constant, dangerous concealment. By turning his life into a story of "forbidden love" (adultery), Ondaatje reduces a specific, existential threat to a universal, romantic trope. The reader is left with a story about a man who broke a marriage vow, not a man who was unfaithful to himself.
2. By the reinforcement of Colonial Tropes: The novel’s setting—the desert, the Orient, the exotic locale—is treated as a backdrop for a European drama. The vice of Cairo’s foreign quarter, the licentiousness of the spies, and the debauchery of the colonial agents are romanticized. The systemic rot of colonialism—where foreign operatives, feeling untethered by moral constraints, exploit local populations and customs—is not addressed. Instead, it is aestheticized. The Orient is but a stage for European drama, not a living, breathing entity with its own agency.
The Myth of the Gay Hero
The novel relies heavily on apprehending a "meme"—a cultural shorthand or hidden knowledge—that the reader must possess to "get" the full picture. Without knowing that the real Almásy was gay, the reader sees only a tragic romance. With that knowledge, the novel becomes a palimpsest, a text where the true history is faded. This is the danger of "high-brow" Romantic fiction that demands extratextual context: it alienates the general reader and relies on a secret society of the initiated.
In the new telling of the story, the goal is the opposite. We do not want to hide the truth behind a veil of romance. We want to expose the absurdity, the incompetence, and the comedy of errors that defined the Rebecca affair. We want to show that the vice of Cairo was not a romantic backdrop, but a symptom of a colonial system that encouraged debauchery and deception.
Why The English Patient Fails as a Model for The Rebecca Affair
The English Patient fails as a model for our novel because it prioritizes emotional truth over historical honesty. It uses the lie of revisionism to create a more palatable story, one that allows the reader to sympathize with the colonial agents without confronting the ugliness of their actions.
In contrast, a radical history of the Rebecca affair aims to expose the rot: Show the colonial system not as a noble endeavor, but as a source of moral decay and systemic failure:
1. To humanize the Other: Depict the Egyptian locals, the German spies, and the British operatives not as archetypes, but as flawed, confused, and often ridiculous individuals.
2. To reject the "Romance" of Espionage: Show the Rebecca affair not as a high-stakes thriller, but as a farce. The spies were not masterminds; they were amateurs who sabotaged their own missions. The code was not a genius invention; it was a desperate, clumsy attempt to communicate.
Conclusion
The lesson from The English Patient is clear: If a writer wants to tell a story about the breakdown of morality in a colonial context, they cannot simply rewrite the truth to make it more romantic. They must confront the reality of the '''lie''' that colonialism told itself.
In the new telling of the story, we will not use the "Rebecca" book cipher as a symbol of tragic love. We will use it as a symbol of the absurdity of the war machine—a "key" that unlocked nothing, a coded communication that failed, a mission that was a farce. We will not ask the reader to "know the memes" to understand the truth. We will reveal the truth, with all its ugliness and comedy, to the reader who is willing to consider it.
The challenge for the author is to express the color of colonial conditions without covering up the systemic rot. The answer is not to romanticize the lie, but to expose it. The Rebecca affair was not a romance; it was a disaster. And that is the story we shall tell.