Vulture
Skewering news media for acts of brazen laziness and inhumane “neutrality,” Phoebe Greenwood’s bawdy satirical novel Vulture addresses the Israel-Palestine conflict from the protected sidelines.
Sara, an English reporter in Gaza, craves the fame of breaking news that veteran reporters seem too cautious to seize: “were they all stupid or just monumental pussies? … This war was still mine for the taking.” She’s certain that her byline will pique Michael, her deceased father’s admired friend and her longtime secret lover. Until then, she’s content to soak up all of the relative luxuries available at the Beach, a hotel built when the promise of peace still felt real.
Scornful of the directions given to her by Nasser, her “fixer” who only seems to bring her stories that everyone else is covering too, Sara makes a side deal with Fadi, who has high connections to a militant group. She wants to get cameras into Hamas’s tunnels to ensure her meteoric rise. But as delays pile up, she distracts herself with memories of her past exploits; with a bit of sexual sampling among an Italian photojournalist team; and by verbally sparring with the janitor’s sardonic son.
Though it’s set amid another Gaza conflict, Vulture is less about the war than it is about foreign opportunism and interference. Sara has vicious thoughts about her colleagues; she proves unable to recognize how her actions endanger others, though, or to accept responsibility for the consequences of her disregard. An opportunist who admits to her severe daddy issues, she approaches men without care, her actions wanton and compromising. Her copy is crude and her behavior outrageous, inviting voyeurism and eschewing empathy.
Its shocking conclusion indicting all those who exploit human tragedies for personal gain, Vulture is a scathing satirical novel set in the troubled Middle East.
Reviewed by
Michelle Anne Schingler
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