Sorcerers and Orange Peel, by Ian Mathie, Mosaique Press

I don’t believe in magic.

It seems odd to have to say that, but it’s just that Ian Mathie, the author of Sorcerers and Orange Peel, seems to. The book’s one in a series of memoirs about his years as a water resources specialist in West Africa, and it tells of his dealings with witchcraft, devils, spells and all sorts of sinister joggery-pokery.

But I don’t believe in magic. Hyenas don’t turn into men and men don’t turn into hyenas, whatever Mathie says.

But there’s the rub. It’s a book about what he saw and what he believes, and he’s a practical, no-nonsense character who used to work technological magic of his own in providing drinking water for remote villages, sorting out drainage problems, and advising on irrigation projects. As a sideline, he nurses an ailing couple back to health with the contents of his medicine kit. Hell, he even repairs a cracked sump on his Landrover with a couple of corned beef tins. He’s nobody’s fool.

And yet. “When I looked back, the hyena was gone. In its place stood a man, cloaked in tufts of raffia and animal skins, among which the blotchy pelt of a hyena was prominent …”

It’s gripping – the capable, practical European engineer faced with a shadowy world of magic, and apparently seduced by it, although you probably wouldn’t tell him so to his face. And whatever you think of the magic, the writing is first class. You can feel the musty atmosphere inside the hut as he bends over the dying man and his wife, smell the mixture of smoke, pungent citrus leaves and rank sweat as the sorcerer stirs the fire.

And by the time you’ve finished the book, you’ll start believing in the magic yourself. Not that I did, of course. But on the other hand ….