Dr Hermes Reviews - FU MANCHU

THE INSIDIOUS DR. FU-MANCHU

(Feb 9, 2002)

From 1912 (where it appeared in THE STORY-TELLER), this was the first in the Fu Manchu books and it's hard now to recapture just how frightening and exciting it must have been to readers who hadn't seen its like before. First appearing as a series of short stories in COLLIERS, the book was only slightly rewritten to provide a few transitions, which gives it a distinctive rhythmn. Every twenty pages, a murderous attack by Fu Manchu is narrowly foiled or (more often) claims a hapless victim, and the next chapter starts it up again. The ending is a bit weak and unsatisfying, obviously allowing for a sequel, but aside from that, these stories are immensely satisfying and still pack a jolt.

Although he later developed into a mastermind leading a worldwide cult (James Bond villains owe a lot to him), Fu Manchu here is a straightforward assassin. His mission in England is "To pave the way!", eliminating any men who had learned of the new China's plan to conquer the world. It's usual to dismiss "the Yellow Peril" as mindless racism, but in 1913, events were a bit alarming. The ancient Manchu dynasty had been overthrown, an uncertain republic established, and Chinese warlords were rampaging for control. In a world dominated by empires, the idea that the largest and most populous country in the world would now set out to overthrow the Europeans seemed very believable. When THE INSIDIOUS DR FU MANCHU was first published, it must have seemed as terrifying as the headlines. (Of course, twenty years later, it turned out to be a different Asian nation that set out on empire-building...)

Fu Manchu himself is at his most bloodthirsty and maniacal here ("They die like flies!...and I am the god of destruction!"), leering wickedly at his victims and choosing the most bizarre and unsettling methods of assassination imaginable. Denis Nayland Smith, a Burmese police commissioner drafted against his will to combat this menace, is visibly frightened and unsure of himself (a far cry from the confident, heroic figure of the later books). And yet, almost from their first face-to-face encounter, these two enemies begin to show that grudging respect that will last for decades. There is that emphasis on honor and keeping one's word that marks both these men.

There is also some discussion as to just who Fu Manchu really was. Petrie thinks he was leader of a third party, apart from the Manchus themselves and the Republicans, working for their own benefit. I wonder if this name was chosen by its bearer to mean "Manchu Champion" or "Manchu Successor"-- sort of like "Captain America"? We're never told Fu Manchu's real name, nor that of his daughter, Fah Lo Suee.

One element that sets Sax Rohmer's books apart from most pulp thrillers is the strong romantic undertones. Not that there's any actual sex implied, but the attraction between the sexes is a vivid, compelling force that drives a lot of the narrative. Although Dr Petrie keeps telling us he's a staid, unemotional English physician, once he sees the gorgeous Egyptian woman Karamaneh, he's as smitten as a junior high student gazing at that girl at the next desk. The fact that she's Fu Manchu unwilling slave and also immediately falls passionately in love with Petrie sets up that characteristic tangle of loyalties and conflicts Sax Rohmer always returned to.

There's some pretty heated moments here as Dr Petrie has to deal with this exotic beauty pleading with him, "...if you will carry me off so that I am helpless, lock me up so that I cannot escape, beat me if you like, I will tell you all that I do know." Whew! I bet Petrie broke out in a sweat just thinking about it.

Something that puzzled me throughout the series was why a mega-genius like Fu Manchu had such a high regard for a rather ordinary doctor like Petrie. Here we see Karamaneh sneak a sample of the Golden Elixir (which restores the Devil's Doctor's comatose victims to life) to Petrie-- and Fu Manchu thinks Petrie has figured out the elixir and wants to keep the man on his Council. I personally think this is hilarious.

THE RETURN OF DR FU MANCHU (Oct 8, 2001)         From 1916 (first appearing serially in COLLIERS WEEKLY in 1914), this is classic pulp adventure, exactly what fans think of when 'Fu Manchu' is mentioned. Feverish, intense and lurid, this is one of the early books in the series that has inspired literally thousands of imitators in stories, comics, movies, serials, radio and TV shows. RETURN was first published as a series of short stories in an English magazine, and this format is clearly evident when reading the book. Every twenty pages, the action reaches a climax, stops dead and starts over in a slightly different direction. The result is not really disjointed, since there is always the underlying central plot of Smith and Petrie dealing with Fu Manchu's second appearance in England, but there is a slight feeling that the narrative isn't getting anywhere. The plotting in the individual stories varies from sometime quite clever and inventive to a clumsy reliance on coincidence and hunches, but the pace is brisk and the book is still very readable ninety years later. One thing that struck me is how vivid the personalities of the heroes were. Obviously based on Holmes and Watson, but exaggerated even further, they're an unlikely team. Sir Denis Nayland Smith is so hyperactive, jittery and tense that you wonder if he's not on some sort of amphetamine; he's constantly leaping to his feet, pacing back and forth, fiddling with his pipe and drumming his fingers. (Still, dealing with the Doctor would make even Nero Wolfe agitated.) On the plus side, he is incisive and competent when the violence starts. Dr Petrie, who narrate the stories, is not much help in the action, tending to stare in dismay rather than pitch in, but he does his best. The most notable thing about him is that he's a completely lovesick puppy, so hopelessly smitten with the enigmatic Karameneh (an Egyptian slave of Fu Manchu) that he is constantly ranting about her beauty and speculating on what the expression in her eyes meant. We have all had to deal with a friend mooning about in this sort of infauation (and to be honest,most of us went through it in adolescence), but I expected the misogynistic Smith to slap Petrie hard and say, "Snap out it, man!" (He does in fact, give Petrie a stern lecture and calls him "an imbecile.") There are a number of intriguing comments in the book about the Devil Doctor himself. We learn that "Fu Manchu" is not his real name but a code. One of the characters who has lived in China "would recognize him for whom he really is, and this, it seems, the Doctor is anxious to avoid." And we usually think of the Doctor as a supreme mastermind leading the Si-Fan cult, but this early in the series, he is one of their agents-- he has been sent to England to determine the identity of a Chinese noble who has betrayed them. In one scene, Fu Manchu is answering to his superior in the organization, but it's clear that our favorite villain is already planning on working his murderous way up the ladder. The charisma of the Doctor, described in every book as being an overwhelming aura of power and dread, always seem to me just a dramatic effect. Here, however, there is a single reference to Fu Manchu's tremendous "vril". The mystic energy of Vril was part of occult thinking around the early twentieth century, popularized by Madame Blavatsy (also mentioned in this book), and it was credited with being behind many supernormal events. Could this vril which gives Fu Manchu his awesome presence actually be a developed form of chi? Chi (or ki in the Japanese) is a spiritual energy which a martial arts master can harness, either for insight and healing, or for actual physical effect. The 'iron hand' which can shatter armor, the dim mak 'delayed death touch' which can cause death instantly or days later, are among the more dramatic uses of chi. If you've seen the wonderful film CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON, you've seen the depiction of chi used to reduce a fighter's body weight to almost nothing, allowing leaps which border on true flight. Fu Manchu is said a number of times to have mastered "obscure fighting arts' and it seems likely that he has studied combat in Shaolin temples and Tibetan lamasaries. Perhaps the strange film or membrane which is described as falling over the Doctor's eyes as he concentrates is a sign of the chi being gathered. Later in the series, Fu Manchu seems to deteriorate into just another criminal mastermind committing murders and kidnappings, but here he is depicted as thoroughly evil. Never relying on a rifle bullet or a knife in the dark, Fu Manchu uses elaborate and unlikely assassination techniques like a cat (with poison-dipped claws) dropped from a tree onto someone's face, a venomous adder hidden in a victim's cane, and even a trained baboon that reaches in bedrooom windows to strangle people (?!) These bizarre tactics are unnerving to someone being pursued because they are so unpredictable and impossible to guard against.   The horrifying use of torture in these early books also explains why everyone (including Smith and Petrie) is terrified at the prospect of falling into Fu Manchu's hands. A medical genius (capable of instantly brainwashing servants like Karameneh) might be expected to use truth serum or hypnosis, but the fact that the Doctor employs such incredibly cruel devices as the wire-jacket and the Six Gates of Joyful Wisdom reveals his true sadistic nature. Fu Manchu may protest that he's working for a higher good and he may keep a stoic, detached expression as his victims scream in agony, but he's a twisted maniac just under the surface.

THE YELLOW CLAW (May 9, 2002) From 1916, this appeared as a six part serial in DETECTIVE STORY MAGAZINE, from October to December. To be honest, I picked up Sax Rohmer's THE YELLOW CLAW expecting a full-blown Fu Manchu-type mastermind by that name. After all, I remembered a comic book from the 1950s with the same title, and that particular villain might as well have been one of Fu Manchu's proteges striking out on his own. That Yellow Claw was really demoniacal, too, with pointed ears and lemon-yellow skin and an ex-Nazi henchman, as well as a beautiful niece who kept screwing up his schemes because of her love for the Chinese-American FBI agent Jimmy Woo. But no. This is a different story, although set very much in the same world where Fu Manchu moves. Here we're dealing with the enigmatic "Mr King" heading his vast international ring of de luxe opium dens, headquartered in Limehouse, staffed with the same eclectic assortment of Chinese and Greeks and Arabs and the inevitable gorgeous Eurasian vixen that the old Devil Doctor himself always assembled. (You have to give Rohmer's villains credit for being equal opportunity masterminds.) From the very first chapter, Rohmer is telling his story in an elegant, old-fashioned style that is very enjoyable in its way, even compared to the hellbent, breakneck speed of the pulp novels I usually read. There is a lot of the author speaking directly to the reader-- "let us return to see what Soames has been up to on that morning"-- which gives a rather comfortable feeling of listening to someone telling a story, rather than just jumping into a fictional universe. First, we meet Henry Leroux, an author sitting up late at night in his dressing gown, scratching with his pen as he tries to create a new story for his detective hero "Martin Zeda, Criminal Scientist". Abruptly there's a pounding on the door and in bursts a gorgeous, terrified woman scantily clad in civet furs ("Leroux suppressed a gasp. He had a caught a glimpse of a bare ankle!" Whoa.) Some mysterious assailant is pursuing her and she turns to Leroux for protection.... You HAVE to love this scene. Here's Sax Rohmer sitting up, trying to write a book about his new detective, and he puts down exactly what he must have wished would have happened in his own den. Oh, well. In any case, the rollercoaster ride has started. Right away, there are mysterious murders, long-nailed hands reaching through windows, unfaithful wives and hints of dope rings, Scotland Yard inspectors going "harumph!' through their mustaches and so forth. This is the book that introduces Rohmer's French detective Gaston Max, and, although he doesn't really come on stage for the first sixty pages, he really takes over once he gets started. Max is a world-famous criminologist and a master of disguise (like Sherlock Holmes, he keeps a cubbyhole full of make-up gear and outfits where he can assume diffferent identities). In his investigations, he appears in different guises and there is an interesting moment where he sees a magazine photo of himself and Rohmer remarks that not even Max himself could be sure which was the true appearance anymore. Although he's not as bad as Jules de Grandin, he does have the same irritating mannerism of thowing at least one French word or phrase into everything he says, presumably to remind the reader of his origins. (Worse than that is a sophisticated lady who insists on breaking up every single sentence with little ellipses. You simply...must want to...slap her silly face! for speaking in... that dreadful manner.) But you have to give Gaston Max credit, he's brave enough to inflitrate an actual opium den where he knows murders have been committed, posing as a smoker, with no radio to call for help or any weapons. (As an aside, the way Rohmer describes the effects of 1916 opium, that must have been some heavy stuff.) Max has got nerve and as the situation gets more tense and the action picks up, he shows real heroic determination. If anything, the book disappoints a bit as 'Mr King' remains a bit TOO elusive and mysterious, and the ending is unsatisfying. Twice someone is killed by a pair of powerful, long-taloned hands 'the color of old ivory' and when a traitor comes face to face with Mr King, he's literally paralyzed at the sight. I don't think for a moment this villain is actually Fu Manchu himself working under a different name, but there seems to be an underlying connection somewhere. Reportedly, somewhere in the sequel, THE GOLDEN SCORPION. Fu Manchu clearly makes an appearance (although not named specifically), so that book has to be next on my stack.

THE HAND OF FU MANCHU (Oct 19, 2001)         From 1917 (but first appeaing serially in 1916 in COLLIER'S WEEKLY, this book is not quite as completely satisfying as the first two in the series (for one thing, the ending kind of limps off and the 'death' of Fu Manchu occurs offstage; also, there is no real confrontation between Nayland Smith and the Devil Doctor), but it is also vivid, feverishly intense and full of genuine suspense and surprises. Once or twice, Sax Rohmer lays on the dime novel language a bit too thick (all those italics and exclamation marks) and there are a few times when coincidence seems to rule the universe, but on the other hand, this is such primal stuff that even over eighty years later, it still has a potent kick to it.         BIg Ben striking midnight on a foggy night, stealthy assassins outside your hotel window, opium dens and hashish parlors, secret meetings of the oldest conspiracy in the world, English manor-houses in a violent thunderstorm, tunnels absolutely crawling with huge scorpions... this is pure pulp, the source and inspiration of thousands of later stories.          The title of the English first edition was THE SI-FAN MYSTERIES, which in fact does hint that Fu Manchu himself is not as visible in this book as in the others. There is even a new villain who is Fu Manchu's superior in the Si-Fan-- the Mandarin Ki-Ming. Like the two earlier books, HAND originally appeared as a series of short stories, which gives these early adventures their peculiar but hypnotic pacing. Every twenty pages or so, there is a dramatic resolution and then the mystery starts up again in a slightly different direction. It's very much like reading the Sherlock Holmes collections, if only Holmes has been trying to capture Moriarty in each story.             For a stoic upper class Edwardian doctor, Petrie is as hot-blooded as a high school senior. Not only is he pasionately (and sincerely) smitten with the lovely Egyptian Karameneh, but he can hardly handle his response to another of Fu Manchu's bad girls, the insolent knife-weilding dancer Zarmi. Sax Rohmer not only was fascinated by Egyptian and Asian Culture (however much he badmouths it), he had obviously a real weakness for exotic women. And I'm sure many other readers of these books have looked up and wondered, just what is this obsession with little red slippers?!                Petrie is very human, a much better choice for narrator than the more heroic and infallible Nayland Smith. Petrie is believably nervous and apprehensive when he know those beastly dacoits are lurking nearby, but he is still capable of blithely lying down and going right to sleep when he is supposed to be guarding a mysterious box. Petrie is dumb enough to answer a mysterious tapping on his door late at night and practically kidnapping himself, but he's also unexpectedly capable of following Fu Manchu's marmoset into an abandoned house and creeping up to eavesdrop on a meeting of the Si-Fan. Dr Petrie is more or less a normal person doing his best, pulling a blunder or saying the wrong thing but just as often rescuing Smith or thwarting the assassins.          There are a couple of really startling moments in this adventure. At the end of the previous book, the Doctor had been shot right in the head and presumed dead. Here he turns up, limping and walking with two canes, partly paralyzed and only half alive.... so his solution is to kidnap Dr Petrie and the more famous surgeon Sir Baldwin Frazier and compel them to operate and remove the bullet. If they fail and Fu Manchu dies, the two English doctors will be flayed of their skin and thrown to the rats. (Yike!)               For some reason, throughout the books, Fu Manchu has a genuine affection for Petrie. Not only does he for some reason think that Petrie is a much more skilled doctor than is the case, he just seems to like the guy. As evil as Fu Manchu is (and remember the thousands he has tortured, enslaved and murdered), the Chinese supervillain always shows a strange human touch here and there.     This is also the book which introduces the daughter of Fu Manchu, Fah Lo Suee. We are told the ultimate purpose of the Si-Fan is to prepare the way for the prophesied coming of 'the Lady of Si-Fan', who will be ruler of an Asian empire after the white colonial powers are overthrown. To be honest, I have never found Fah Lo Suee a convincing character. From her unappealing name to her sketchy personaliy to the repeated game she plays of supporting and then betraying her father, I have never been impressed by her. Maybe this new re-reading of the books in close succession will change my opinion. [And please remember that her name is pronounced Fah Lo SWEE, not Fallow Soo-ee, which is better suited for Arkansas hog-calling.]

Fu Manchu was Egyptian? No way. That whole business of a supposed Egyptian origin for Fu Manchu has always vexed me. Right from the start, Rohmer compared the features of Fu Manchu to the mummy of Seti the First (how flattering is that, to be compared to a mummy, eh?). And hints were dropped from time to time of an incredibly ancient origin for our fiend. But Egyptian? He seems visibly Asian, thinks of himself as Chinese (or Manchu, more specifically) and if he is a prince, that implies his ancestry is well documented. Also, the ancient Egyptians were a mixed bunch ethnically, mostly Semitic or Mediterranean (the famous Cleopatra was of the Ptolemies who were actually Greek) and they seem to have no Asian connection. I suspect Rohmer was such an obsessive fan of Egypt (it shows in his writing) that he couldn't help trying to tie Fu Manchu in with the mystique. Wouldn't that have been a great book? The Devil Doctor in Cairo, reviving mummies and invoking the old gods, stirring up modern Egyptians...THE PYRAMID OF FU MANCHU, another great book that was never written.