Winifred Holtby wrote a number of superb novels set in early 20th-century England. And then, for some reason, she decided to write a satirical work about imperialism set in a fictional African country. I was encouraged at first by Holtby’s satirization of British politics and society, and her development of a strong independent female character central to the plot. The premise -- a travel agency trying to establish a foothold for tourism in Mandoa -- was also sound. But as the novel progressed the story became increasingly convoluted. I began to lose interest and found myself skimming through the last few chapters.

Well, at least I can say I’ve now read all of Winifred Holtby’s novels. I highly recommend her work, especially her masterpiece South Riding, but there’s no need to rush out and read this one. ( )

A very well-crafted satire set in a fictional African country. Given the subject, I expected an Evelyn Waugh-type novel, all caustic wit and razor-sharp edges; instead I was treated to a thoughtful look at the clash of two cultures engaged in a game of mutual exploitation. Holtby's characters are exaggerated for comic effect, but they are also complex people who are never wholly devoid of humanity.

The copy I checked out from the library was published in 1933 and there were several pages in the last section which were still uncut. Sad to think this wonderful book sat on a shelf for eighty-four years without being read! ( )

Very readable. Dreamt-up African state which embraces European values but with disappointing and unfulfilled results.
Favourite line: "Golf? One of the most distressing defects of civilization. Never mind."

This book didn't really work for me: it seemed a bit rambly and unfocussed and way too laboured. ( )

When Maurice Durrant, the youngest member of Prince’s Tours, wins his seat, he sends his profligate brother Bill to Mandoa, a small African state, to attend the wedding of a princess. With him is his old friend Jean Stanbury, who has recently lost her newspaper job. The arrive to a Mandoa where the Lord High Chamberlain, Safi Talal, is a Westernophile who watches American films over and over; believes that the typewriter, rubber bath, and fountain pen are the hallmarks of civilized society; and uses phrases such as “OK, baby.”

I’m usually a huge Winifred Holtby fan, but I really couldn’t get into this book as much as I thought I would. Holtby seemed as though she was out of her element with this book; it’s the only one not set in Yorkshire, and she wasn’t much of a humorist (as much as Evelyn Waugh, to whose book Black Mischief this novel is compared).

Sometimes Mandoa, Mandoa! is funny, but it’s hidden in such a way that you have to read sentences again in order to really get it. Safi Talal, with his obsession with American culture (there’s even a Lord High Culture Promoter in Lolagoba) is probably one of the more interesting characters in the book, because he serves as a link between the natives and Europeans who try to “civilize” them. I enjoyed watching the interplay between the Mandoans and the Europeans, especially reading the list of rules for Mandoans (on pages 216-18). But I felt that a lot of the time the plot of the novel dragged and I couldn’t really get into it. It’s a shame considering that Winifred Holtby truly is one of my favorite authors. ( )