Over the next few posts, I’ll be outlining some background to the principal characters in Francesca, starting naturally with the woman after whom the novel is named.
Francesca is seventeen years old when the novel begins, on the eve of the Indonesian invasion of East Timor. Whilst her experience of life has hitherto been rather narrow and sheltered, she has benefited from a western style education in one of the Catholic schools run by Portuguese missionaries in Dili.
This places her amongst the small educated Timorese middle class of the time. Her father, who Francesca adores, works as a technician in Dili’s main radio station. As such, he is particularly well placed to discern which way the political winds are blowing, which makes it all the more of a let-down when his predictions turn out to be so hopelessly inaccurate.
Aside from her father, the other key influence in Francesca’s life are the nuns who educated her. They left her with a faith that is stretched to breaking point but somehow endures. More importantly, at least in the short term, they have instilled in her a love of languages. It is this passion, unusual for someone in her position, that enables her not only to stay alive but to build a new life for herself when she ends up in Indonesian Borneo.
By the time she arrives there she has seen far more than a girl her age should ever see. Her experiences have left their mark in an aloofness and a distance, which people find puzzling; they are drawn into unravelling its mysteries, with little success. She has erected a wall around herself, and whilst she has stared utter despair in the face, by nature she is neither cynical nor ruthless. Indeed, she is perplexed and on occasion dismayed by the force of her instinct to survive.
This aura, combined with her intelligence and natural good looks, attracts the attention of rich and powerful men; her saving grace is that something within her compels them to want to help her rather than exploit her.
Coming up next… Benny Surikano.