So, I know that I have already rambled a good deal about the insanely-popular, but virtually unheard-of to English-speakers, series character known as Sandokan. (For your edification, I previously discussed him here and here.)

Having now read the first book, Sandokan: The Tigers of Mompracem, I must say that I can see what all the fuss is about, but I would have seen it all even better had I been able to read the book when I was about thirteen. The story of an entirely vicious, hate-filled, revenge-obsessed pirate who suddenly (very, very suddenly) falls in love, causing everything to change for him, is full of the kind of melodrama, and spurts of blood, that I would have loved at that age. Or, rather, that I would have loved even moreso than I do now–please don’t think that I am at all panning the book.

True enough, the romance in the story is without a doubt the type that simply appears full-blown out of nowhere and envelops both man and woman, and the character of Sandokan goes back and forth between emotional extremes at the drop of a hat. This all leads us to some grand pirate melodrama, but frankly, the setting, and the things that make the book different from its peers are actually bolstered somewhat by the cliches that exist therein.

For Sandokan, unlike your normal piratical hero of a European-written novel, is a deposed king from the south of Borneo. Deposed by the 19th century colonial expansion of the English, against whom he has sworn a bitter debt. The murder of his family and loss of his kingdom has left him with a burning hatred of the English, and a generally not-too-happy view of white people in general, with the exception of Yanez, his Portuguese best friend and, essentially, sidekick. Yanez is clearly the surrogate for the European readers of the books, and by one account was Salgari’s surrogate for himself.

Setting what could have been, perhaps, not quite the most original pirate story ever in such a different place is what gives the Sandokan series its real power: it’s strange to imagine so many young European children in the late 19th and early 20th centuries thrilling to the exploits of a hero who has declared war on the European world. Even when Sandokan falls in love with a white woman (and a blonde, blue-eyed one, no less, I wonder if that made anybody uncomfortable back in the day) he becomes willing to throw aside his vendetta out of love for her, but does not actually allay his hatred for the bulk of her kind.

What is, perhaps, strongest though about Sandokan being an anti-colonial hero is that, at least in this first book, no great big deal is made out of it: Salgari presents it as a foregone conclusion that Sandokan is a heroic but brutal man, who is that way because of what the encroachments of other powers did to him, even though the book was written at a time when adventure fiction was often jumping onto the colonial bandwagon, so to speak. Granted, it could have something to do with the fact that Italy wasn’t a real colonial power at the time, but I think the works of Salgari still stand against those of us who like to forgive the colonialism and racism in literature of the time a little too easily, dismissing it by saying “oh, well that’s just how they all thought back then.” Clearly, this is not the case.

But anyway, enough of what the book may mean in a historical context, what is it like to read? Well, a lot of fun, if one isn’t expecting the most deep and profound story ever written. Setting and all, The Tigers of Mompracem is pure escapism, and, as I said, quite adolescent escapism at that. But, as anyone who pays attention to this site and to my opinions knows, I do not consider this to be a bad thing at all. It’s a rip-roaring sort of adventure with a hero who’s essentially invincible: filled to the brim with death, hatred, sacrifices for love, howls for vengeance, blood, deception, camaraderie, and even a knock-down drag-out fight between a panther and orangutan. Whatever The Tigers of Mompracem may lack in depth it makes up for in excitement, this is a book that does not stop moving.

It is also more than possible that what it does lack in depth has a good deal to do with its being the first book featuring the character. Nico Lorenzutti, the translator of the book and, I believe, the rather big cheese when it comes to ROH Press, the small publisher releasing these great new editions, told me that this first Sandokan book was originally written in 1883, and then modified to be released in 1900, so in Tigers of Mompracem I would expect that we’re seeing Salgari at an earlier point in his career… although I won’t really be able to judge until I’ve read some of the later novels. The first one certainly doesn’t end as though it’s leading towards any kind of a series, but that just makes me more curious to see how the others continue from it. I am definitely looking forward to the rest of the series though, especially since the titles of future books point to what seems to be a pretty damn big, multi-book epic.

All told, if any of what I’ve discussed here appeals to you, I would tell you to go pick up this new, and quite affordable, edition of The Tigers of Mompracem while the time is ripe. I’m always for supporting small publishers, and when said small publisher is devoted to bringing non-English adventure classics (including a long out of print Jules Verne novel) to an American audience… well, suffice it to say, I think that they should be supported. Oh, and adolescent fantasy or not, Sandokan: The Tigers of Mompracem is damn enjoyable.

Sorry I’ve hardly been here, but I needed recuperative time back home with the family. On both plane flights, however, I amused myself with the first book in the aforementioned Sandokan series. It’s quite a lot of fun in an adolescent sort of way, and I don’t mean that as a bad thing, but I’ll save the review until I’ve finished it.

What I will point out now, however, is the discovery I have made of just how large a cultural phenomenon this Sandokan thing has apparently been for decades… all without those of us in the English-speaking world having even the slightest clue. Up above is the opening to an Italian miniseries from the 1970’s, (you may recognize the very simple tune as that of the Sandokan cartoon I mentioned last time) but if you really wish to see how ubiquitous the series is, take a look at this fairly recent footage from an Italian talk show, in which they did a big karaoke of the song: I mean, clearly everyone knows the thing. My girlfriend likened it, quite aptly, to knowledge of the Fresh Prince theme to Americans of our generation (20-somethings, mostly). (Speaking of the Fresh Prince, I Am Legend was a great movie, and I’m gonna read the book very soon… but I digress.) Not to turn this into some sort of Youtube blog, but if you’d like to see goofy footage of the 1970’s Sandokan fighting a tiger, you can do so right here.

But to really see what we anglophones have entirely missed out on, the best place to look may be ROH Press’ own site. Granted, those selling Sandokan books have good reason to drive home the character’s popularity, but one still can’t argue with the list of quotes at the bottom of the “Shops” section: Umberto Eco, Isabel Allende, Arturo Perez-Reverte, Pablo Neruda, Che Guevara, and many more are quoted professing their love for Sandokan and/or the works of Emilio Salgari. More than one person cite the way in which Salgari’s dissuade developing children from becoming racists–high accolades indeed.

Forgive the scattershot approach here, but I felt that, aside from getting into my own personal feelings when I have finished the book, it was simply worth pointing out the wealth of warm feelings that already surround Salgari, and his most famous character. Oh, and I really wanted to post that theme song, ’cause the shit gets stuck in my head like nobody’s business.

So, in my many searches for the best in historical, swashbuckler-type adventure fiction, I have more than once stumbled across the name of Emilio Salgari–usually mentioned by native Italian-speakers who lament that they cannot share his greatness with their English-speaking friends. The premise behind his most popular character, Sandokan, stuck out to me especially: Sandokan is, from what little I’ve heard, the son of an Indian Raja who, after the English murder his family, escapes to the South China Sea, where he becomes a pirate, fighting off evil colonials. My kind of hero.

Anyway, the Sandokan books are now being released in affordable English editions, so I can finally see what all the fuss is about: Salgari is, according to some, the world’s best-selling Italian author. ROH Press, whom I have never heard of, are releasing new translations that, according to them, are more complete than any of the few English versions that have dotted the literary landscape in the past. At their website, you can read excerpts from the three Sandokan novels that they’ve released thus far, as well as from Mathias Sandorf, a Jules Verne novel that they carry, whose plot is purportedly inspired by The Count of Monte Cristo–i.e. my favorite book of all time. I recommend poking around their site a bit, as there’s interesting info about Sandokan, Sandorf, Salgari, and another creation of Salgari’s whose first book they’ll publish in English next year: The Black Corsair, a good ol’ Caribbean pirate. Good times. (Also, you can watch the opening theme song to a goofy Sandokan cartoon show, which, for only having the word “Sandokan” repeated over and over again, is surprisingly catchy.)

Rest assured, I’ll be picking up the first Sandokan book, The Tigers of Mompracem, (and probably also Mathias Sandorf) when time and money allow, and reviewing it when I’m done, it looks right up my alley.