This book was a slog by the end.
Burton seems like a fascinating character in real life, and I don't know if it's the fault of the author or translator, but the book is just very muddled and he never really comes fully to life as a character.
Ultimately, while the writing is usually fine, it is the complicated narrative structure of the book that is its undoing. As we begin in India, we see Burton through his own eyes and the eyes of his servant, who is dictating a letter describing his time with Burton. This 3-part narrative structure is repeated throughout the 3 segments of the book (save for the beginning and the ending vignettes), and it becomes especially problematic as the story progresses.
The core reason it became so problematic for me is the length of the sections given by each narrator. In the first section, in India, we often have multi-page sections of both Burton living his experiences and also his servant dictating them. Even here, there are simply too many jumps between perspectives, but at least each section has something of a narrative flow to it. Although I found this first section to be the most interesting reading, in terms of delving into Burton's character, it was also the section in which the main achievement - his translation of the Kama Sutra - was very much in the background.
In the second section is where the length of the vignettes became most problematic for me. In this section, I actually really liked Burton's perspective, but some things felt forced, such as his encounter with the drunken Albanian dervish. Furthermore, even though I liked the characters of the bickering officials of what would later become Saudi Arabia interviewing people who'd encountered Burton during his hajj, I found their sections were far too repetitive and occurred far too frequently - many times breaking the flow of the narrative.
In this, the final section was the worst offender, and the most difficult to read. In fact, when we are first introduced to Sidi Mubarek Bombay (SMB), I thought *he* was Burton, that Burton had fully subsumed his identity from the 2nd section and had "retired" to Zanzibar (mostly due to Bombay's origins and his strange relationship with the local mosque).
No matter. In this final section, we are given both Burton and Speke, and their animosity towards one another is constantly talked about but very rarely shown (except in one scene on the riverbank near the end). This rang hollow. Furthermore, at this stage, we are basically jumping between SMB's narration and Burton's at every "scene," and it's simply too much. In one vignette, Burton and Speke are recovering from fever and decide to take a walk outside. That's it. With relatively few pages devoted to Burton in this section, it was mostly wasted on boring, uneventful marching and on him and/or Speke lying prone with fever.
By contrast, we get *extensive* exposition from SMB as he is apparently sitting in his courtyard, with his wife and various audience members coming, going, and interjecting repeatedly throughout his narration. As there are very few cues to which character is speaking when, there are times when the dialogue is such a labyrinth of speech that I couldn't be bothered to even try to figure out who said what. SMB also goes on asides, such as his finding of a wife, and his brief friendship with some guy who then turns out to know well the witch-doctor of the "king" their caravan encounters as some village deep in the African wilderness... to what end, I still have no idea. Obviously his meeting of his wife was significant for him, but the way it's written it's like one small section, then only comes back at the very end of the section, with hardly any relevance to or impact upon the story. It would have been far more interesting (this is fiction after all) to have had her play a role in the journey, or the wire that SMB stole to pay her dowry play some part, but no, in the end it was just there.
Finally, in the vignettes about Burton's death that bookend the already-convoluted main story, we get almost no sense of the man as he was to his family - especially his wife. He's supposedly the British consul in Trieste for many years, but apparently all this entails is him sitting in a room reciting Koranic verses and writing? It just feels bizarre, and we never get much of a sense of homesickness from Burton on his adventures. While that may very well in fact have been the case, surely at some stage he would have written to his wife, or we could have at least gotten some indication from him that he missed her or something similar. Unless *all* his adventures took place before he married, which seems unlikely. At any rate, it seemed again to be forced and didn't play much of a part in the main story.
While I think I understand the author's desire to show Burton's adventures from differing perspectives, I didn't feel those perspectives really delved into the particulars of the respective cultures all that much - it felt all very similar, of a "the crazy white man did what?" vein that honestly became pretty tiresome by the time we got to SMB's final segment.
The overall idea for a narration in this style was not a bad one, but something this complex has to be executed almost flawlessly to work, and the author did not get the balance right. Burton should have been the most interesting character by far, but he often came off as flat. None of the "native" narrators stuck in my mind besides the local Arab holy man that the Ottoman governor consulted in his interviews, and that only because he was seemingly the only voice of reason regarding whether or not Burton's faith was manufactured or real.
Overall, I honestly felt a straightforward biography of such an adventurous life would have been more riveting, and as Burton himself published some of his accounts, I think I will read some of those.