The Return of Tarzan

Published in 1915, a mere two years after "Tarzan of the Apes," "The Return of Tarzan" plunges us back into the tumultuous life of John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, as he grapples with his dual nature. Having renounced his love for Jane Porter for her perceived happiness with another, Tarzan finds himself adrift, first as a secret agent for the French Ministry of War, then as a castaway, and finally as the chieftain of a lost city. Burroughs masterfully orchestrates these rapid shifts in circumstance, each new setting offering fresh challenges to Tarzan's principles and primal instincts, and each new encounter serving to further define the complex character of a man caught between the jungle's brutal honesty and society's often hypocritical veneer.

The novel's structural ambition is notable; Burroughs does not shy away from sending his protagonist to diverse and increasingly fantastical environments. From the bustling streets of Paris to the desolate reaches of Algeria, and eventually to the hidden city of Opar, the narrative unfolds with a relentless pace that keeps the reader thoroughly invested. This episodic quality, rather than feeling disjointed, contributes to the sense of an epic journey, allowing Tarzan to interact with a broader spectrum of humanity and barbarity, each interaction subtly refining our understanding of his unique moral compass, which remains surprisingly consistent despite his varied surroundings.

Burroughs's prose, though often direct, possesses a certain muscularity that suits the subject matter. He is particularly adept at conveying action sequences with visceral clarity, painting vivid pictures of jungle combat, perilous escapes, and the sheer physicality of Tarzan himself. Beyond the action, however, there is a consistent undercurrent of philosophical rumination, particularly regarding the nature of civilization versus savagery. Tarzan's internal conflict—his yearning for Jane, his loyalty to his jungle upbringing, and his reluctant embrace of his aristocratic heritage—is the true engine of the story, lending it a depth that transcends mere adventure.

However, the novel is not without its imperfections. Specifically, Burroughs's tendency to rely on increasingly improbable coincidences to drive the plot forward occasionally strains credulity. The repeated, almost miraculous, reappearances of key characters in disparate parts of the world, while convenient for the narrative, begin to feel less like fate and more like authorial contrivance. This reliance on narrative shortcuts, particularly in the latter half of the book, detracts somewhat from the otherwise organic development of Tarzan's journey, suggesting a prioritization of plot momentum over meticulous construction.

Ultimately, "The Return of Tarzan" is a significant entry in the Tarzan canon, solidifying many of the character's enduring traits and expanding the imaginative scope of his world. It is a testament to Burroughs's skill as a storyteller that even a century later, these tales retain their power to transport and entertain, prompting reflection on enduring themes of identity, belonging, and the often-fraught relationship between mankind and nature. While not flawless, its strengths in characterization and imaginative world-building far outweigh its minor structural weaknesses.