Back in 2019 I read a fascinating book from one of my favourite publishers, Notting Hill Editions; I’ve commented before on the wonderful range of books they produce, often unusual and slightly left-of-centre works which don’t necessarily fit into any category, and this was one of them. It was a marvellous and stimulating book called “Mentored by A Madman” by A.J. Lees, and I absolutely loved it. Lees is a Professor of Neurology at The National Hospital, London but he’s also no mean author! “Mentored…” looked at his life and career through the filter of the influence of William S. Burroughs; and now NHE have released an equally fascinating book by Lees: “Brazil That Never Was“.

Saint Helens was a throbbing, pulsing place full of work. Everything was for use and nothing for ornament. Salt of the earth, salt of baptism, salt of wages, salt of preservation, salt that gave lucidity. Time was spent, not killed. Its families lived from pay packet to pay packet, made to do with what they had been given and took life as it came.

As with “Mentored…”, “Brazil…” is rooted in autobiography; as a youngster growing up near Liverpool during the 1950s. Lees would regularly visit the docks with his father and was transfixed by the ships from Brazil unloading their cargoes and then sailing off again to strange, faraway lands. His fascinating with all things Brazilian was further fuelled by a book handed to him by his father: “Exploration Fawcett” told the true story of one Colonel Henry Fawcett, a British explorer who’d disappeared in 1925 while searching for a lost city in the Amazon.

The Oakwood Library became my sanctuary. Its grand drawing rooms, with picture rails and sunburst stucco ceilings, were lined with hardback books, fresh and stale, fat and thin, large and small. I roamed the shelves, following paths that fascinated me, and taking in the scent of wisdom. The hours flashed by in minutes as I sat on the ledge of the bay window absorbing the colourful stories of the dead. Cocooned in this place, I was able to divine the Atlantic from a grain of salt.

As can be seen from the above quote, Lees was one of those children for whom the library was a vital part of their young life (and I empathise strongly with that!) The book captured the young boy’s imagination; the concept of there being places in the world still undiscovered was a heady one and it stayed with Lees so much that he began to explore the story of Fawcett’s life and adventures. His researches soon revealed there was more to Fawcett’s life than the book had hinted at; and “Brazil…” is not only the story of Lees’ detective work and what he found, it’s also the tale of his own trip to Brazil in the footsteps of his hero.

The history of Fawcett’s travels and beliefs is in itself fascinating and often gripping; he was a man with contacts, even trying to involve such luminaries as T.E. Lawrence and H. Rider Haggard in his schemes. Lees gained access to family members as well as collections of papers and records from all manner of sources, and discovered there was much more going on behind the scenes than just an attempt to find lost civilisations; the occult was involved, as well as a sect who believed in special beings who co-exist with humans. Fawcett, his family and his friends all seemed to accept that there were life forms who moved on separate planes and his strange beliefs would affect any number of people connected with him.

Author photo via the publisher’s website

As I said, Fawcett’s story alone is gripping; however, what lifts this book to another level is Lees’ narration, telling of his personal interest in the events and recalling how the tale of Fawcett’s adventures affected his own life. Lees is a wonderful storyteller; he writes beautifully and atmospherically; and his chronicle of how he dug deeper with his research into Fawcett’s expeditions is absolutely fascinating. However, one of the elements I loved best was the reminiscences of his childhood; these were so wonderfully evocative that they really brought alive his experiences of growing up in the middle of the 20th century. That world is in many ways as lost as the world Fawcett was searching for, and I loved the way Lees brought it to life again.

The once beautiful waterfall was reduced to a litter-strewn muddy trickle. Manaus was a metastasis in the earth’s green lung, a conflagration of billowing smokestacks created by Man’s insatiable appetite for self-combustion. On its edgeland, the disconnected trees in the charred clearings seemed to be crying in pain. They were like street children, isolated, damaged and struggling to survive.

Following Lees on his explorations, both physical and mental, is an exhilarating experience. He obviously had a wanderlust, perhaps inherited from his teacher father, and in the end was moved to visit Brazil himself, although it was very different from the Brazil which had been in his head. An almost Burroughsian experience in the jungle leads him to the conclusion that it *is* still possible to travel into uncharted territory nowadays – but the kind of journey is a mental one, deep inside yourself, rather than a physical one.

“Brazil That Never Was” is a stunning book, and one which will stay with me for a long time. The wonderful blend of travelogue, memoir and reflection makes for a heady and affecting read, and I found myself going back to read passages which had resonated strongly the first time over. Andrew Lees is not only an author with a tale to tell, but one who tells it quite brilliantly. The Brazil he dreamed of in his childhood may never have actually been a real place, but it existed in his mind and will always exist in this wonderful book. Highly recommended!

Review copy kindly provided by the publisher, for which many thanks!