Roccasalvo has Somerset Maugham’s talent for paying close attention to the setting. He’s generous with details. He makes you feel you’re there.
Robert Giroux Farrar, Straus & Giroux
Late? Only by his Bostonian clock. He was lucky to find the somdet home at all. In an English stilted by Thai, the patriarch’s secretary informed him that the venerable one visited building sites on Tuesdays, for his blessings were famous for driving off tenacious ghosts. Today was unusual, an unscheduled afternoon, when the abbot saw Westerners interested in the finer points of Buddhism. Since David had phoned from his room at the Oriental Hotel a week earlier, he was first on the appointment list. His Harvard background and Bangkok address may have had something to do with the priority he enjoyed. It did not extend to punctuality.
While waiting, he examined the room. It seemed like most of the spaces he observed in middle-class households where Western and Thai furniture stood congenially side by side. But here were touches that made the room distinctive. Next to a vase filled with lotus shoots was a photo of the reigning king. In the robe of a monk, with head shaven, he squatted on the ground unceremoniously. His sunglasses made him look like a film star intent on being inconspicuous. The photo reinforced what David knew: this was a royal wat, celebrated for the discipline of the monks and its ties with the Chakri dynasty. To this wat, kings and princes came to take the ochre robe in Buddhist baptism or spend some time in monastic seclusion.