I had always imagined from reading the blurbs about this book that it was in some way comic. It isn't. I was reminded of the miasmic sense of futility that pervaded George Orwell's "Shooting an Elephant".
Mister Johnson suffers from the "Big Man" syndrome. He imagines wealth and the good things in life are his due because he has a chief clerk's job in a District office of the Nigerian Colonial Service. He is inept; he steals, he borrows irresponsibly, he lies and is a farcical husband.
Meanwhile, the District Officer sees the opportunity of a road building project as a lasting memorial to his term of tenure at his otherwise tedious posting.
All transactions are corrupt in this dusty set-up. Accounts are falsified, money diverted, the roading project brings only overcrowding and no prosperity.
There is no resolution to the colonial divide, and it is Cary's genius that drives home the futility of colonial administration amid the chronically corrupt and mean culture of the native population. The final scenes are a devastating commentary on the whole sorry story.

A chilling story of the gradual corruption of a village magistrate and his chief clerk. Set in Nigeria, in the thirties, Mr. Johnson starts as a loyal servant of the empire, and continues so, all the way to the completely frightening conclusion. A vivid experience, and not to be missed. ( )

Masterful character depictions not limited to the titular character nor other native people of Nigeria, but the white "overlords" as well--from Pig's-Neck to his wife and even barelly sketched minor characters. Mister Johnson himself is a tragi-comic character who makes us laugh along with, and a bit *at,* and love this absurd man who, in the end, just wants to make everyone happy. Using colourful words that may be politically incorrect today, Cary can be forgiven for using words of his generation; the book was published 1939. And he (i neer knew Joyce was a 'he') shows great empathy for his character. Truly a pleasure. ( )

Problematic in the same fashion as Conrad's Heart of Darkness, Cary's presentation of Africans is questionable at best, and racist at worst. Yet, his style and the story give this novel some heavy worth even so, even regardless of this historical worth of such novels. Whether viewed as a simple story, as a metaphor, or as allegory, the story explores characters whose adaptations (and lack thereof) end up driving their fates. And, in some ways, Cary explores an immoral example of Myshkin, the prince from Dostoevsky's Idiot. If you're interested, this might well be worth your while--just keep in mind what you're walking into. ( )

Rattled along like Steinbeck's Cannery Row, this book, with hilarious characters (Mister Johnson is utterly endearing, foolish and enterprising, as well as dangerous), characters demanding our respect and sympathy, characters we despise but enjoy reading about and characters who are a little hazy, and then wallop! I was gripped with fear and sadness to wards the end and wept on completing the book. It probably merits an immediate re-read - something I might well do when I've recovered. Very different in style to Conrad's Heart of Darkness, but set similarly in the action of the Empire 'taming the savages' withy the similar theme of the questionability of bringing wealth and industry to established bush culture. The questionability is dealt with intelligently and responsibly and provides absolutely no easy answers.

A quite beautiful, suprising gem of a book, carrying a tremendously painful set of events amongst some great comedy and joy. ( )