‘In April 1976, my friend Michael Langford disappeared inside Cambodia. Twelve months earlier the Khmer Rouge had taken power, erasing the past and restarting the world from the beginning. We were now at the end of Year Zero.’
While the conflicts in Vietnam and Cambodia form the background to this novel, the slow introduction set in Tasmania caught and captured my attention. I spent all of my childhood in Tasmania, and much of the setting was familiar to me. Which meant that, by the time Michael (Mike)Langford went missing in the Khmer Rouge’s Cambodia, I was completely engaged. Any Australian my age or older will remember the Vietnam War and the controversy surrounding conscripted soldiers. We may have had doubts about Australia’s involvement in the war, but no-one could doubt the courage of those involved. In this novel, Ray Barton travelled to Southeast Asia to search for Mike. Mike, a combat photographer, had left instructions for his taped diaries to be given to his childhood friend Ray if he did not return from Cambodia.
Ray attempts to reconstruct Mike’s life using the taped diaries, his own memories and the recollections of several others. Ray is seeking to understand who Mike was, and why he went into Cambodia.
‘I’d been out of Indochina for nearly seven years, Harvey said. When I came back, all highways led to the war.’
As the story shifts between the various people who knew Mike, as they wonder why he traded recording the war for participation in it, I wondered about where Mike saw himself belonging. Mike had a falling out with his father in Tasmania and had had left his childhood family behind. Did his loyalty to those in Vietnam and Cambodia represent a search for belonging? And while I wondered, my reading was arrested by passages such as this:
‘In the time of the monsoon rains, when the Mekong overflows, its tributary the Tonle Sap performs its annual miracle; it turns around to run backwards. Carrying the Mekong’s torrents to the lake from which it takes its name, the river enlarges the lake from a thousand to four thousand square miles. Whole forests are submerged at the country’s heart; fish swim among the trees. Then, at the beginning of the dry season, Tonle Sap river flows back to the Mekong. It siphons off the water from the Great Lake and the drowned heartland; in uncovers the underwater forests, leaving fish trapped there by the thousands; it exposes silt-rich acres for rice planting. The river is the engine of Cambodia’s bounty, deliverer of fish and rice to the people, and every November, back in the happy sixties, surrounded by dragon boats and xylophone music for the river gods, the little Prince would honour Tonle Sap, cutting the magic string that caused it to come back again to the Mekong.
But tonight this seemed a memory of play: a time of Cambodian childishness that would never come again. Reality now was the children catching insects for food, and wartime silence under a high, full moon.’
Mike Langford is missing, and Southeast Asia is changing. By the end of 1975 Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos became communist countries. Is Mike still alive? How could Ray (or anyone else) track Mike? Would Mike want to be found?
This novel drew me in gradually and refused to let me leave. The bravery, the imagery, the doomed fighting and the toll on those who survived left me wondering about choices made and roles assumed. And I remember the three courageous characters: Mike Langford, Ly Keang and Madame Claudine Pham.
‘Highways to a War’ won the 1996 Miles Franklin Award. It is one of a diptych: the other book, ‘Out of Ireland’ is on my bookshelf, patiently waiting to be read.
Jennifer Cameron-Smith