Book Review - Vulture
Set in Gaza, Phoebe Greenwood’s blistering satire of western war reporting is, at times, unbearable to read. Given the current horrors unfolding in the region (and lack of journalists on the ground), her debut novel feels especially bold. Yet, as writers such as Joseph Heller and Kurt Vonnegut demonstrated, dark humour can challenge dominant narratives and illuminate war’s dehumanising effects. A reporter based in Jerusalem from 2010 to 2013, Greenwood has written extensively on the region.
Her antiheroine, Sara Byrne, is a damaged young British woman with daddy issues. After the death of her father, a foreign affairs commentator, Sara is working as a freelancer. On 14 November 2012, Hamas commander Ahmed Al Jabari is killed by an Israeli drone. More through luck than talent, Sara is sent by rightwing newspaper the Tribune to room 22 of the Beach hotel, a haven for journalists. Sara hopes to land a scoop – mainly to impress and regain the affections of her older, married lover, Michael (her father’s literary agent) – but nothing goes to plan.
Sara’s room number is not the only nod to Heller’s Catch-22. In the ensuing period of bloodshed, both sides are trying to win the propaganda war. Greenwood captures the chaos of conflict, the terror of living under constant bombardment, and the uglier aspects of war journalism.
Vulture is also a rite of passage. Sara goes over the head of her fixer, Nasser, and approaches Fadi, the shady nephew of a resistance fighter, hoping he’ll provide access to their “terror tunnels” for $1,000. Her recklessness unleashes a series of disasters ending in tragedy.
Greenwood gradually reveals Sara’s past – her relationship with her parents and her queasy seduction by Michael – eliciting some sympathy for her brash, self-absorbed protagonist. Having exploited the conflict for her own vanity, does Sara emerge a wiser and better person? Greenwood leaves us wondering.