Edward Spencer, a conservative Protestant loyalist, runs a decaying 300-room hotel on the coast of County Wexford. Regarding himself as a benevolent landowner, he nevertheless demands total submission of his tenants and the signing of a loyalty oath to the King. His ironically named Majestic Hotel, lacking maintenance during the war and its aftermath, is now too costly to repair. When British Major Brendan Archer, newly released from hospital, arrives at the Majestic to reintroduce himself to his fiancee Angela, daughter of the proprietor, the reader quickly sees that the Majestic is a symbol of a faded aristocracy which has outlived its usefulness. The windows are broken, the roof is leaking, and decorative gewgaws and balconies are hanging loosely and threatening to crash. Walls, floors, and even ceilings, are swelling and cracking from vegetation run wild, and the hotel's ironically named Imperial Bar is "boiling with cats," some of which live inside upholstered chairs and all of which subsist on a diet of rats and mice. Irish rebels live just outside the hotel's perimeter.

With wry humor and a formidable talent for description, Farrell conjures up nightmarish images of life in the hotel, selecting small, vivid details to make the larger thematic picture more real. Homely details enlarge his canvas and bring his symbolism home to the reader as the rebellion by the Irish poor continues to grow and affect life within the microcosm of the Majestic. The reader's feeling of claustrophobia and the need to escape builds, and one is not surprised when violence strikes.

By injecting small news stories throughout the narrative, Farrell informs the reader about the progress of the rebellion. He also sets up global parallels, widening his scope by reporting problems in India, South Africa, and other parts of the Empire, along with the Chicago Riots and the Bolshevist attacks in Kiev. Humor and sometimes satire leaven even the most emotional moments, and Farrell paints his characters with a broad brush which makes one constantly aware of their absurdity. Clearly delineating the emotional issues behind the drive for Irish independence, Farrell makes the reader see both sides with empathy. When Edward and the Major finally begin to shoot the Majestic's cats in preparation for a large ball, the reader is prepared for a final round of violence at the Majestic and almost welcomes it. Mary Whipple


Splendid and moving metaphor for the collapse of Empire   February 8, 2002
 13 out of 13 found this review helpful

Troubles is the second part of what is a loosely-linked trilogy about the decline of the British Empire. Running through them all to provide some continuity is Major Brendan Archer, a rather weak but quite lovable man who arrives in Ireland in 1921 having retired from the Army in which he served in WW1. He is engaged to a woman he barely knows, Angela, who soon dies. However, rather like the British in Ireland, despite the disappearance of the original reason for his presence, he does not leave. Rather he lingers at Angela's father's Majestic Hotel. The country is being swept by the Home Rule movement, and even the rural area which is the backdrop for Troubles is not immune; Republican freedom fighters are seen on the grounds and the aristocratic residents are in mortal fear at times. The characters are very strongly portrayed in Troubles and the splendid descriptive narrative - particularly of the hotel and its grounds - provide a tangible sense of decay one can almost smell. Of course, since the Hotel is a grand metaphor for the British Empire itself, this is wonderfully appropriate. When Archer arrives, the place is already crumbling and the exotic plants in the conservatory are overgrown and jungular, threatening to block out all the light - perhaps representing the Imperial decline in Asia - by the time he leaves, it is no more. There is a wonderful, glittering hiatus when there seems, for a time, a chance to salvage what is left and turn the clock back, and the reader is swept up in this hopeful optimism, only to have those hopes dashed along with the characters' own - a perfect representation of the interwar years. Troubles can be read on a number of different levels. Even if you are not interested in history, this is still a good read; if you're not interested in the trilogy, it is a freestanding novel in its own right and can simply be read alone. However, if you are familiar with British imperial history, you will find this an erudite and moving story of metaphor. It is a worthy text and I'd highly recommend the other parts of the trilogy, The Siege of Krishnapur and The Singapore Grip.


A masterpiece   June 13, 2000
 16 out of 16 found this review helpful

'Troubles' is JG Farrell's masterpiece. Set in the months leading up to the Irish Civil War, in a remote hotel by the sea, it concerns the fortunes of a First World War veteran, the Major, on a visit to Ireland, gradually drawn into the declining fortunes of the Anglo-Irish. The Major's inner conflicts mirror the increasingly precarious political situation which steadily impinges on the lives of the characters, with a vivid conclusion. Farrell's control of the narrative is first-class, moving from the bizarre to the sinister in a matter of sentences, and the book is full of memorable images that linger on the retina long after you've finished reading: the sheep's head in the hotel bedroom, the burning hotel, the overgrown palm court. It's haunting, melancholic, very funny, political, intimate, and beautifully written. There is no-one quite like Farrell writing in Britain today; such a pity his untimely death cut him off in his prime. Treat yourselves.