Ugly Botany By Ralph Burton
Ugly Botany
By Ralph Burton
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
My Rating 5/5
Synopsis
Aboard a steam train heading into the heart of Colonial Africa, scrawny botany student D.D. Roswell learns his professor's dark secret. Virgil Perkins and his wife Cecilia have been single-handedly sustaining the British Empire via unspeakable bedroom antics. Long ago Cecilia's father made a deal with the devil to ensure that if his daughter slept with her lover every night, the Empire would never die. If, however, she spent the night alone, all hell would break loose. It is then D.D. learns Cecilia is missing, and Virgil has come to Africa to find her. Though, outside, the sun is setting, the crocodiles in the lake are getting hungry, and D.D. knows what his professor must face: no Empire -- especially not this one -- should last forever.
My Thoughts
Ralph Burton’s *Ugly Botany* is what happens when colonial satire, dark magical realism, and absurdist humor crash headfirst into one another aboard a steam train chugging through the heart of Colonial Africa. Bold, bizarre, and refreshingly original, this is not your average historical fiction—or even your average novel.
At the center of the story is **D.D. Roswell**, a scrawny, awkward botany student who thought his journey into Africa would be about plant specimens, not sinister pacts and imperial curses. But when his mentor, Professor Virgil Perkins, reveals a secret so outlandish it’s almost believable—that his wife Cecilia’s nightly *bedroom duties* have single-handedly sustained the British Empire—D.D. realizes he’s been dragged into something far more grotesque than botany.
Burton masterfully uses the bizarre premise—a literal sex pact with the devil to preserve the British Empire—as a sharp-edged metaphor for colonial greed, delusion, and moral decay. **The idea that an empire could rest on one woman’s nightly sacrifices is outrageous, yet eerily symbolic of the exploitation and mythology that propped up colonial power.**
As Cecilia disappears and the sun sets—both literally and metaphorically—*Ugly Botany* spirals into a fever dream of crocodiles, crumbling ideals, and the question of whether some legacies deserve to survive at all. The title itself is a clever nod: this is not the beauty of nature, but a twisted, overgrown system that should have been uprooted long ago.
Burton’s prose is sharp, irreverent, and laced with black comedy. There are moments that feel like Joseph Conrad wandered into a Monty Python sketch—disturbing, hilarious, and oddly profound.
Final Verdict:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️☆ (4.5/5)
*Ugly Botany* is gloriously grotesque and intellectually daring. A brilliant satirical takedown of colonial hubris masquerading as a madcap adventure. Just don’t expect a happy ending—or any botanical accuracy.
Comments
Post a Comment