The Venetian

Bruce K. Filson was a freelance writer and critic residing in Chesterville, Ontario.

The Venetian in question is Marco Polo. The story takes place during the final years of the reign of Kublai Khan. Marco Polo and his entourage, brother Matteo and Amal Mu’haz (an Egyptian Muslim), are sent out by the old Khan to renew his royal harem. Polo does this for a ship, but mostly because the Khan holds his father in prison.

However, plot is but a pretext for this short, excellent historical fiction, strong in detail, mood, and characterization. Marco Polo has been in the East so long (24 years) he feels empty, soulless, and fatalistic. The Khan — now only an old fart who was once great, cruel, and powerful — hangs on to life in a gilded cage.

Even two minor characters (Sun Sun, the Khan’s servant, and Kaidu, an enemy of the Khan whom he once sexually abused) are sufficiently well portrayed in the 100-page novel to come to life.

I see The Venetian as an embryonic historical fiction that should have developed to 400 pages. Or else a short, poetic prose fiction a la George Bowering. In that case, it should have been written with more flare and grace. (I would prefer the latter: most historical novels are too damn long.)

Unfortunately, I get the sense that the book tried to go in both of these directions at once, and was thereby drawn and quartered. First, the plot miniaturizes the grandiose plot of the fat bestseller, concluding with the Khan’s being killed during his great fireworks display. Second, while the writing reaches for a mood all its own, it frustrates through lack of depth. It gets carried away by the writer’s need to get across all the interesting and no doubt accurate historical detail he researched. And in spite of several finely written scenes that make you feel like you’re right in the Khan’s court, the narrative jerks along clumsily. The writing is often turgid and choppy, and commas provide a weak substitute for better sentence construction. On the plus side, Buday shifts narrative focus with aplomb and uses dialogue insightfully.

Beyond these criticisms and what I might have wished for, I still see a fine achievement in the novella. Buday works to find treasure and present it, polished, to the reader. The Venetian is beautifully bound and well worth the read, for it asks little of your time and takes you somewhere you’ll never be.