Lawrence Osborne
With immense skill, Lawrence Osborne considers these questions, among others, in his second novel, The Forgiven.
One would hardly know that Osborne is relatively new to the literary scene: his writing here moves deftly between Jamesian social satire to a more Forsterian attempt at connection and unity in addition, Osborne's background as a travel journalist allows him to construct a very real Morocco that is both present and fantasmatic for its Western outsiders as it is for the reader.
Passages like the following allow Osborne to describe the immense impact the exterior has on interior life, particularly as it relates to conflict:
Invited to their acquaintances' new Moroccan homeitself a critique of imperial attitudes, with its reproductions of traditional architecture and design, a mansion where Richard and Dally, the hosts, parade their servants around in outlandish costumes that are more caricatures of "the orient" as viewed by "the occident.
"
On their way to the estate, David and Jo have an accident, one that will have repercussions for both them and all the guests assembled at Richard and Dally's posh retreat.
A simple accidentand even the question of whether it was an accident or notsets Osborne's questioning of Western morals into motion not only is his juxtaposition of these hypocritical and selfrighteous sensibilities with the Muslim locals surrounding their insular world very incisive in its ethical plumbing, but Osborne also points to the ways in which our cultural perspectives inform who we are, divide us from others even of the same background as ourselves, and can alienate us from truly connecting with other people on multiple registers, whether this be intimate, familial, social, or otherwise.
While Osborne's query below relates to Richard and Dally's orientalized but highly occidental retreat, it is a question that reverberates in the psychic lives of the main characters throughout The Forgiven as well:
While local Muslims begin to surround the estate demanding answers, the Westerners enjoy their drinks, desserts, and social banter, insulating themselves against both the outside and against each other "Would they be expected to be themselves or to impersonate people they were not".
In these scenes, Osborne's debt to James is obvious, but the ways in which he deploys his unique vision of post/culture is obviously entirely his own, with some evocations, perhaps, of Hollinghurst, particularly The Line of Beauty.
Later, as Osborne shifts geographic and also temporal terrain to encompass the more isolated Issomour, renowned for its trilobites, not only is Forster's famous dictum from Howards End "only connect" resonant, but so, too, are the cultural divides he examines and crosses with such finesse in A Passage to India.
There have been many novels of the socalled post/genre in recent years, and I can honestly say that Osborne's brilliant The Forgiven is the most quiet and yet the most searing examination of the human psyche today when it comes to questions of race relations, class and socioeconomic structures, and the politics, creeds, and socially ingrained prejudices that prevent us from bridging gaps and creating bonds with others whom we encounter.
This is a truly remarkable meditation on cultural identity in a fractured world, a lamentation that if we could "only connect," perhaps we might obtain the forgiveness both personal and even beyond that for which we so hungrily crave.
A mustread. Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography cclapcenter, com. I am the original author of this review, as well as the owner of CCLaP it is not being reprinted illegally,
Now that I'm finished with it, I find myself having a hard time deciding what exactly to think of critical darling and "professional nomad" Lawrence Osborne's latest novel, the engaging but also meandering The Forgiven.
Because on the one hand, its GrahamGreenemeetstheTeaParty setting is going to be fascinating to most sheltered Westerners like myself almost the entire story takes place within a former Moroccan village that an upperclass gay British couple have bought in its entirety and turned into a private sybaritic estate, where the former family hovels have been turned into WiFiequipped guest bungalows, and once a year a weeklong orgy of drugs and group sex is thrown for the spoiled globetrotters who fly in specifically for it, so notorious that it regularly makes the society pages back in the UK and US publications where most of the guests are from.
And the plot that this veteran journalist and academic favorite places within this setting is fascinating as well two of the guests, a bickering middleaged British couple, decide to drive to the compound from the airport themselves, accidentally hitting and killing a local African teen in the middle of the night while the driver is slightly sauced, which serves as the catalyst for both a blowup and deconstruction of their crumbling marriage, the husband's growing alcoholism, the wife's infidelity, the hosts' "tongueincheek imperialist" lifestyle, and even such local issues as scared bravado masked as fiery political rhetoric, and pride versus familial duties.
But on the other hand, it takes an awfully big suspension of disbelief to buy into the main plot turn that fuels the entire second half of the book that the drunken spoiled vehicular manslaughterer in question would voluntarily ride into the desert with the father of the slain teen and his knifewielding buddies, for a weekend of penance and possible extortion to "atone" for the accident with the entire book sort of falling apart if you don't buy into this unlikely turn of events plus there's the fact that, while Osborne provides satisfyingly complex looks at his white characters, he often falls back on lazy cliches for the local Moroccans, and of course the ageold argument among academic characterheavy novels that not a whole lot actually happens once this wonderfully complex milieu is established, although by definition this will bother some people a lot less than others.
So when all is said and done, in general I recommend the book but with some caveats, that you need to be ready for a slowerpaced story whose main joy is merely in lazily lounging among the characters in question, and not in finding out "what happens next.
" If you're able to do this, you'll find in The Forgiven a beautifully written, thoughtprovoking examination ofstcentury imperialism, and the debate over whether this attitude is simply baked into all Westerners from childhood by default or if it's a specific result of the same sociopathic urge that drives the One Percenters to become those people in the first place.
Out of: , I wanted to like this book more than I did, Everything seemed aligned for my enjoyment: a story about travel in Morocco, lush, elegant writing that explores the problematic consciousnesses, not just of the Americans and British expats, but of the local people who are trapped in poverty and frustration.
But there was something that made the book slow and even laborious so that I never really wanted to return to it, I'm not exactly sure what that was perhaps it was my own impatience, but I think it had to do with Osborne's habit of interrupting dramatic situations with extended and repeated descriptions and interior examinations.
None of the scenes were allowed to properly develop energy and tension without intrusions of what began to feel like the "narrator," or, to use a clumsy phrase, the "writer.
" Osborne is an excellent writer and I wanted to love this book, but just didn't, though I'll certainly give his next one a try, Everyone loved this book apparently, so who am I to disagree I will admit it was an interesting read, and I didn't have to force myself to keep reading.
Here's the story: A smug alcoholic doctor and his annoying skinny wife travel from England to Morocco to attend a lavish and decadent weekendlong party given by friends they don't really like.
Driving in the dark, they hit a young man who had tried to stop their car a la
"Bonfire of Vanities" and "The Great Gatsby".
Therein lies the conflict: a contrast between the wealthy "infidels" and the impoverished zealous Muslims,
Once again, all of the characters are despicable, There is not a man, woman, or child the reader can relate to because sooner or later each of them reveals their awfulness,
The setting was interesting: somewhere in the Moroccan desert where the land's only crop is fossils, There are rock quarries where the people dig out the fossils left behind when the waters receded, These fossils are sold to buyers all over the world, and there are interesting descriptions of the various types, musings on the irony of the desert yielding ancient relics, as well as thoughts on the Europeans whose wealth allows them to transport these items from this poor country.
One of the things that drove me nuts in this book is a mistake early on p,. The host makes a drink for the doctor: " He didn't bother asking what David wanted, He just made up a hugely alcoholic gin and tonic, no ice, . . David finishes the drink . David stared at the ice cube at the bottom of the glass, "
The story itself was so contradictory, but I don't want to spoil the plot for anyone, Let's just say, the set up seemed real enough, but the follow through seemed unbelievable, if you know osbonrne's writings sitelinkThe Accidental Connoisseur: An Irreverent Journey Through the Wine World you'll know, and expect, fullon sensuality and food/wine porn of the most yummy sort, and this novel brings you all that, plus too, evocation of place that is both "factual seeming" and seductive, even when it isdegrees in the shade and flies are biting.
so, Morocco,st century, aer's posh revamped and air conditioned hill top fort, fossil sellers out the ass, local boys as the servants, even a damn sir or lord or whatever helicoptering in from uk.
then of course the piggy euros accidentally kill a hard working, innocent young hard working muslim hillbilly out in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night on a lonely empty highway, in a dust storm, of course tongue out of cheek now and now we have more than just a clash of west v east/ modern v tradish / muslim v chistian v hedon / but also death, sadness, unfairness, face, restitution, justice, imperialism, etc etc.
. so on that thin as sand plot and some harsh juxtapositions the reader is plunged into the bowles family backscene with lots of garcia lorca imaging and d h lawrence clean clean dirtiness.
so read it for the beauty of date palms swishing, and russian women swimming and sandwiches in the hamper all cool and crisp in the hot hot sun, and forget the thin thin sand and five villages of some damn hamada that is tibesti well, could be tibesti anyway, might as well be where one village is lousier than the other four.
yeah forget that part of the plot, the trilobites are just there for atmosphere, that is if they are not the most important part of this lovely novel, we have fossils and our children, . . laments the old fossil digger Abdellah,", . . the desert is what we fish and the fossils are our fish,
He, like many others living along the slopes of the Atlas Mountains of Morocco, eke out a meager living through digging, prepping and trading in fossils, nightmare life forms from another geological era.
Lawrence Osborne, experienced world traveler and writer, is familiar with the Moroccan landscapes and the local traditions, His novel draws on his deep knowledge and fascination with the place and his empathy with and understanding of the local people, In THE FORGIVEN he juxtaposes the precarious circumstances of the fossil diggers with the luxurious and carefree lifestyle of a group of the rich and famous, who revel in the delights of luxury hotels or private villas.
Every year, Richard and Dally, the owners of a partway glamorously restoredyear old "ksour"a walledin cluster of villas, chalets, gardens and pools, invite a group of mainly Europeans friends and business associates to indulge in a feast of plenty with the best that money can buy, served diligently by local "servants".
Feeling somewhat selfconscious about the wealth amidst all the poverty, Richard justifies the restoration of the ksour in that it provides employment of any number of young Moroccans and the influx of tourism is also good business for the fossil traders.
The contrasts between the two groups, is clearly what preoccupies the author and he elaborates the different aspects which reach from the economic to the cultural and language differences to the fundamental positions on religion, values and morality.
The chasm between the world views of local Muslim population and that of the visitors is very explicit and comes across as irreconcilable,
The events of the novel play out against the backdrop of the festivities and overindulgence at the ksour and Osborne gives us more than enough intimate and intricate details.
It is, however, one particular "incident" that epitomizes the underlying misunderstandings and mistrust between the two groups and that takes over the narrative, Two guests, Jo and David, have an accident late at night en route to the ksour: a young Moroccan man, who they feel, was about to rob them, runs towards the speeding car and is killed.
Not knowing what to do they take the body with them to their hosts who, in communication with the local police, will, hopefully, sort out the mishap.
But the "sorting out" develops very differently from what David and Jo anticipate, Driss, the young man is the son of the old fossil digger Abdellah who comes to claim the body, . .
Osborne describes the emotional tension between David, who in the locals's view may be regarded a murderer, and Abdellah, the grieving father, very poignantly: " Between the two men there existed a mental chasm centuries of antagonism and mutual ignorance.
There was a much deeper misunderstanding between them, one that went so far back into the mind that the beginning could not be conceptualized, " Will there be revenge or can there be forgiveness The author imagines the exchanges and the pauses with sensitivity and empathy,
For me the hard positions of the
Europeans and the Moroccans about each other come across as somewhat extreme and in danger of being stereotypical.
Yet, the author, I assume, deliberately overdraws the contrasting perspectives to illustrate how far away the cultural positions are from any opening towards mutual respect and appreciation.
To give some hope for a middle ground, Osborne introduces a couple of individuals as "interpreters": Anouar, a younger and linguistically skilled man accompanies Abdellah and David's encounters, while Hamid, the quiet, reserved and highly efficient manager of the ksour plays an important mediating role between the staff, the locals, Richard and the guests.
.
chose to read this book based on the books synopsis on Goodreads, It sounded alluring. What I found this book to be was the Great Gatsby set in Morrocco, Full of superficial wealthy characters who spend there days worrying about what they will eat next and what parties they will go smoke weed at or get drunk at next.
I also felt the author gave way too much detail on insigniciant parts of the story, I cant say that he doesn't pay attention to detail, it was overkill though, Political commentary on Muslims, Americans, Iraq, etc, I think he had to make to storyline fit the title and it wasn't really smooth, I am sure glad this was a free download from my library, forgive transitive verb:
a : to give up resentment of or claim to requital forltforgive an insultgt
b : to grant relief from payment of ltforgive a debtgt
:to cease to feel resentment against an offender : pardonltforgive one's enemiesgt
Would she beg to be forgiven There was not a soul to beg.What is forgiveness, and to whom do we apply for this act, an act that typically requires an obeisance on the part of the one seeking forgiveness Are we certain to be absolved and requited from any wrongdoing solely because we have come penitent and with head hanging low to the one whom we have offended Is forgiveness ever a larger act than one involving two grieved partiesan act that can cross cultural, linguistic, and other barriers, ultimately allowing a more personal scene of forgiveness to server as metaphor for cementing these more global and universal relations Can we ever truly forgive ourselves
. . and she hadn't begged anything from anyone in her whole life, How did you do it
With immense skill, Lawrence Osborne considers these questions, among others, in his second novel, The Forgiven.
One would hardly know that Osborne is relatively new to the literary scene: his writing here moves deftly between Jamesian social satire to a more Forsterian attempt at connection and unity in addition, Osborne's background as a travel journalist allows him to construct a very real Morocco that is both present and fantasmatic for its Western outsiders as it is for the reader.
Passages like the following allow Osborne to describe the immense impact the exterior has on interior life, particularly as it relates to conflict:
The road was steep.David and Jo Henniger are an unhappily married British couple who are adept at swallowing their sorrows and grievances with copious amounts of alcohol and a social life that privileges surface over depth.
It passed under ponderous, fractured cliffs, winding past plots of fig trees and then slopes of ironred dirt dark as fresh liver where tiny black goats stood stockstill with quivering ears.
Invited to their acquaintances' new Moroccan homeitself a critique of imperial attitudes, with its reproductions of traditional architecture and design, a mansion where Richard and Dally, the hosts, parade their servants around in outlandish costumes that are more caricatures of "the orient" as viewed by "the occident.
"
On their way to the estate, David and Jo have an accident, one that will have repercussions for both them and all the guests assembled at Richard and Dally's posh retreat.
A simple accidentand even the question of whether it was an accident or notsets Osborne's questioning of Western morals into motion not only is his juxtaposition of these hypocritical and selfrighteous sensibilities with the Muslim locals surrounding their insular world very incisive in its ethical plumbing, but Osborne also points to the ways in which our cultural perspectives inform who we are, divide us from others even of the same background as ourselves, and can alienate us from truly connecting with other people on multiple registers, whether this be intimate, familial, social, or otherwise.
While Osborne's query below relates to Richard and Dally's orientalized but highly occidental retreat, it is a question that reverberates in the psychic lives of the main characters throughout The Forgiven as well:
Was their beautiful way of life, their partial exile, so detailed and meticulously planned, now in danger of being destroyedAs I stated above, Osborne's voice is highly unique but owes much to James and Forster, especially.
While local Muslims begin to surround the estate demanding answers, the Westerners enjoy their drinks, desserts, and social banter, insulating themselves against both the outside and against each other "Would they be expected to be themselves or to impersonate people they were not".
In these scenes, Osborne's debt to James is obvious, but the ways in which he deploys his unique vision of post/culture is obviously entirely his own, with some evocations, perhaps, of Hollinghurst, particularly The Line of Beauty.
Later, as Osborne shifts geographic and also temporal terrain to encompass the more isolated Issomour, renowned for its trilobites, not only is Forster's famous dictum from Howards End "only connect" resonant, but so, too, are the cultural divides he examines and crosses with such finesse in A Passage to India.
There have been many novels of the socalled post/genre in recent years, and I can honestly say that Osborne's brilliant The Forgiven is the most quiet and yet the most searing examination of the human psyche today when it comes to questions of race relations, class and socioeconomic structures, and the politics, creeds, and socially ingrained prejudices that prevent us from bridging gaps and creating bonds with others whom we encounter.
This is a truly remarkable meditation on cultural identity in a fractured world, a lamentation that if we could "only connect," perhaps we might obtain the forgiveness both personal and even beyond that for which we so hungrily crave.
A mustread. Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography cclapcenter, com. I am the original author of this review, as well as the owner of CCLaP it is not being reprinted illegally,
Now that I'm finished with it, I find myself having a hard time deciding what exactly to think of critical darling and "professional nomad" Lawrence Osborne's latest novel, the engaging but also meandering The Forgiven.
Because on the one hand, its GrahamGreenemeetstheTeaParty setting is going to be fascinating to most sheltered Westerners like myself almost the entire story takes place within a former Moroccan village that an upperclass gay British couple have bought in its entirety and turned into a private sybaritic estate, where the former family hovels have been turned into WiFiequipped guest bungalows, and once a year a weeklong orgy of drugs and group sex is thrown for the spoiled globetrotters who fly in specifically for it, so notorious that it regularly makes the society pages back in the UK and US publications where most of the guests are from.
And the plot that this veteran journalist and academic favorite places within this setting is fascinating as well two of the guests, a bickering middleaged British couple, decide to drive to the compound from the airport themselves, accidentally hitting and killing a local African teen in the middle of the night while the driver is slightly sauced, which serves as the catalyst for both a blowup and deconstruction of their crumbling marriage, the husband's growing alcoholism, the wife's infidelity, the hosts' "tongueincheek imperialist" lifestyle, and even such local issues as scared bravado masked as fiery political rhetoric, and pride versus familial duties.
But on the other hand, it takes an awfully big suspension of disbelief to buy into the main plot turn that fuels the entire second half of the book that the drunken spoiled vehicular manslaughterer in question would voluntarily ride into the desert with the father of the slain teen and his knifewielding buddies, for a weekend of penance and possible extortion to "atone" for the accident with the entire book sort of falling apart if you don't buy into this unlikely turn of events plus there's the fact that, while Osborne provides satisfyingly complex looks at his white characters, he often falls back on lazy cliches for the local Moroccans, and of course the ageold argument among academic characterheavy novels that not a whole lot actually happens once this wonderfully complex milieu is established, although by definition this will bother some people a lot less than others.
So when all is said and done, in general I recommend the book but with some caveats, that you need to be ready for a slowerpaced story whose main joy is merely in lazily lounging among the characters in question, and not in finding out "what happens next.
" If you're able to do this, you'll find in The Forgiven a beautifully written, thoughtprovoking examination ofstcentury imperialism, and the debate over whether this attitude is simply baked into all Westerners from childhood by default or if it's a specific result of the same sociopathic urge that drives the One Percenters to become those people in the first place.
Out of: , I wanted to like this book more than I did, Everything seemed aligned for my enjoyment: a story about travel in Morocco, lush, elegant writing that explores the problematic consciousnesses, not just of the Americans and British expats, but of the local people who are trapped in poverty and frustration.
But there was something that made the book slow and even laborious so that I never really wanted to return to it, I'm not exactly sure what that was perhaps it was my own impatience, but I think it had to do with Osborne's habit of interrupting dramatic situations with extended and repeated descriptions and interior examinations.
None of the scenes were allowed to properly develop energy and tension without intrusions of what began to feel like the "narrator," or, to use a clumsy phrase, the "writer.
" Osborne is an excellent writer and I wanted to love this book, but just didn't, though I'll certainly give his next one a try, Everyone loved this book apparently, so who am I to disagree I will admit it was an interesting read, and I didn't have to force myself to keep reading.
Here's the story: A smug alcoholic doctor and his annoying skinny wife travel from England to Morocco to attend a lavish and decadent weekendlong party given by friends they don't really like.
Driving in the dark, they hit a young man who had tried to stop their car a la
"Bonfire of Vanities" and "The Great Gatsby".
Therein lies the conflict: a contrast between the wealthy "infidels" and the impoverished zealous Muslims,
Once again, all of the characters are despicable, There is not a man, woman, or child the reader can relate to because sooner or later each of them reveals their awfulness,
The setting was interesting: somewhere in the Moroccan desert where the land's only crop is fossils, There are rock quarries where the people dig out the fossils left behind when the waters receded, These fossils are sold to buyers all over the world, and there are interesting descriptions of the various types, musings on the irony of the desert yielding ancient relics, as well as thoughts on the Europeans whose wealth allows them to transport these items from this poor country.
One of the things that drove me nuts in this book is a mistake early on p,. The host makes a drink for the doctor: " He didn't bother asking what David wanted, He just made up a hugely alcoholic gin and tonic, no ice, . . David finishes the drink . David stared at the ice cube at the bottom of the glass, "
The story itself was so contradictory, but I don't want to spoil the plot for anyone, Let's just say, the set up seemed real enough, but the follow through seemed unbelievable, if you know osbonrne's writings sitelinkThe Accidental Connoisseur: An Irreverent Journey Through the Wine World you'll know, and expect, fullon sensuality and food/wine porn of the most yummy sort, and this novel brings you all that, plus too, evocation of place that is both "factual seeming" and seductive, even when it isdegrees in the shade and flies are biting.
so, Morocco,st century, aer's posh revamped and air conditioned hill top fort, fossil sellers out the ass, local boys as the servants, even a damn sir or lord or whatever helicoptering in from uk.
then of course the piggy euros accidentally kill a hard working, innocent young hard working muslim hillbilly out in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night on a lonely empty highway, in a dust storm, of course tongue out of cheek now and now we have more than just a clash of west v east/ modern v tradish / muslim v chistian v hedon / but also death, sadness, unfairness, face, restitution, justice, imperialism, etc etc.
. so on that thin as sand plot and some harsh juxtapositions the reader is plunged into the bowles family backscene with lots of garcia lorca imaging and d h lawrence clean clean dirtiness.
so read it for the beauty of date palms swishing, and russian women swimming and sandwiches in the hamper all cool and crisp in the hot hot sun, and forget the thin thin sand and five villages of some damn hamada that is tibesti well, could be tibesti anyway, might as well be where one village is lousier than the other four.
yeah forget that part of the plot, the trilobites are just there for atmosphere, that is if they are not the most important part of this lovely novel, we have fossils and our children, . . laments the old fossil digger Abdellah,", . . the desert is what we fish and the fossils are our fish,
He, like many others living along the slopes of the Atlas Mountains of Morocco, eke out a meager living through digging, prepping and trading in fossils, nightmare life forms from another geological era.
Lawrence Osborne, experienced world traveler and writer, is familiar with the Moroccan landscapes and the local traditions, His novel draws on his deep knowledge and fascination with the place and his empathy with and understanding of the local people, In THE FORGIVEN he juxtaposes the precarious circumstances of the fossil diggers with the luxurious and carefree lifestyle of a group of the rich and famous, who revel in the delights of luxury hotels or private villas.
Every year, Richard and Dally, the owners of a partway glamorously restoredyear old "ksour"a walledin cluster of villas, chalets, gardens and pools, invite a group of mainly Europeans friends and business associates to indulge in a feast of plenty with the best that money can buy, served diligently by local "servants".
Feeling somewhat selfconscious about the wealth amidst all the poverty, Richard justifies the restoration of the ksour in that it provides employment of any number of young Moroccans and the influx of tourism is also good business for the fossil traders.
The contrasts between the two groups, is clearly what preoccupies the author and he elaborates the different aspects which reach from the economic to the cultural and language differences to the fundamental positions on religion, values and morality.
The chasm between the world views of local Muslim population and that of the visitors is very explicit and comes across as irreconcilable,
The events of the novel play out against the backdrop of the festivities and overindulgence at the ksour and Osborne gives us more than enough intimate and intricate details.
It is, however, one particular "incident" that epitomizes the underlying misunderstandings and mistrust between the two groups and that takes over the narrative, Two guests, Jo and David, have an accident late at night en route to the ksour: a young Moroccan man, who they feel, was about to rob them, runs towards the speeding car and is killed.
Not knowing what to do they take the body with them to their hosts who, in communication with the local police, will, hopefully, sort out the mishap.
But the "sorting out" develops very differently from what David and Jo anticipate, Driss, the young man is the son of the old fossil digger Abdellah who comes to claim the body, . .
Osborne describes the emotional tension between David, who in the locals's view may be regarded a murderer, and Abdellah, the grieving father, very poignantly: " Between the two men there existed a mental chasm centuries of antagonism and mutual ignorance.
There was a much deeper misunderstanding between them, one that went so far back into the mind that the beginning could not be conceptualized, " Will there be revenge or can there be forgiveness The author imagines the exchanges and the pauses with sensitivity and empathy,
For me the hard positions of the
Europeans and the Moroccans about each other come across as somewhat extreme and in danger of being stereotypical.
Yet, the author, I assume, deliberately overdraws the contrasting perspectives to illustrate how far away the cultural positions are from any opening towards mutual respect and appreciation.
To give some hope for a middle ground, Osborne introduces a couple of individuals as "interpreters": Anouar, a younger and linguistically skilled man accompanies Abdellah and David's encounters, while Hamid, the quiet, reserved and highly efficient manager of the ksour plays an important mediating role between the staff, the locals, Richard and the guests.
.