Published by Pantheon on June 4, 2024
A character named Jean-Luc Lefebvre pontificates that “Sport is recreational and therefore optional. Nobody is under a duty to like it. Either it interests you or it doesn’t.” The sport that most of the world calls football has never interested me, although I have friends (most of whom were born outside of the US) who are passionate about the sport Americans call soccer. The trick that great storytellers conjure is making a reader care about a topic that is of little interest to them. Joseph O’Neill did that in Godwin, a book that is built around a potential soccer star from one of the world’s poorest nations.
While soccer is part of the novel's foundation, Godwin is more broadly about people and cultures that, while vastly different from each other in many ways, are united by the twin forces of soccer and corruption.At its heart, and more importantly, Godwin is about family, a fluid term that has differing and changing meanings.
The first section of Godwin is narrated by Mark Wolfe. Mark is a technical writer specializing in grant applications. He generally works from home and prefers to stay at home because travel and adventures “boil down to a sequence of uncontrollable, unpleasant, and unwanted events.” Those words turn out to be prescient.
Mark lives in Pittsburg and works in a cooperative of technical writers. An incident of rude behavior at his office — the kind of thing he usually avoids by working from home — is resolved by his agreement to take a leave of absence. Mark’s half-brother, Geoff Anibal, contacts him as his leave begins and asks for his help with a project in London. Mark doesn’t like Geoff but Mark’s wife Sushila convinces him that it would be good for him to spend time with his brother. Mark takes a trip to England to learn what Geoff wants. Their mutual mother lives in France but Mark has no desire to rekindle his relationship with her.
Geoff’s gig involves identifying promising soccer players (primarily from disadvantaged nations) and hooking them up with European teams. He describes himself as an intermediary or agent, depending on the services he provides, which seem to be scant. Geoff sends Mark on an adventure. It is an adventure that Mark must fund, knowing that Geoff’s promises to reimburse his expenses will come to nothing. The mission is to find a promising young soccer player named Godwin who lives in an unknown African nation and whose existence and prowess are only confirmed by a few minutes of video.
Mark’s mission generates about half the novel’s plot. In a manic mood, Mark enlists an aging French soccer agent (Lefebvre) as his partner. The partnership does not go as Mark planned. Lefebvre competes with Geoff to be the liveliest character and is by far the best storyteller.
The other half of the plot is centered on the cooperative that helps Mark earn his livelihood. Most sections of the novel that advance the plot thread are narrated by Lakesha Williams, a medical writer in the writer’s co-op. Her narrative fleshes out the cooperative’s key members, including Mark, who returns to work after his European adventure with renewed energy and purpose. Internal politics leads to a leadership change that Mark soon regrets and that leaves Lakesha feeling threatened. She will later experience conflict between her commitment to the ideals of the cooperative movement — “solidarity, self-responsibility, equity” — and her fading tolerance for new group members who are driven by a self-absorbed drive for power and dominance.
O’Neill fills the lives and backgrounds of significant characters with interesting details, from Lakesha’s initial reluctance to leave north Milwaukee to Lefebvre’s encyclopedic knowledge of soccer history. O’Neill details the cultural and political differences of the African nations that Lefebvre scouts for soccer talent. While this could the dull content of a treatise, O’Neill’s lively prose keeps the story in constant motion.
In subtle ways, O’Neill explores the world’s enduring difficulty with tribalism. One example is the co-op’s devolution from a group of supportive individuals working toward common goals to a group of battling factions. Another is the complaint of a German resident about the influx of Africans who disturb the established (white) order in his native land by increasing the demand for resources that the established order would rather not share. Another is his discussion of African nations in conflict. Far right complaints about “globalism” are reflected in conflicts between tribalism and cooperation.
In more direct ways, O’Neill explores the importance of family. Apart from Geoff, family members take on more prominent roles in the novel’s second half. Mark tolerates Suchila’s father, a racist Tamil immigrant, but he’s surprised when Suchila interferes with his family relationships by engaging in email correspondence with his mother. Surprising events tie together Mark’s mother, Geoff, Lefebre, and Mark. The story also touches upon Lakesha’s difficult relationship with her sister in Milwaukee.
We have families into which we are born, families we make for ourselves, and families that we fall into without giving the process much thought. Those concepts of family are each represented here. O’Neill recognizes that no two families are alike, but they have features in common, ranging from love and responsibility to resentment and exploitation.
The intertwined plot threads in Godwin — the search for Godwin and unrest at the co-op — come together to tell a captivating story. A surprise near the end upsets both plot threads, but they never unravel. Characters are forced to change but they endure because that’s what people do, regardless of culture or nationality. Sometimes they endure with the help of family, other times in spite of family strife. O’Neill’s ability to tell a story that is both familiar and different from any other I’ve read makes Godwin one of my favorite novels of 2024.
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