Angola  

The Book of Chameleons          

 by 

                           Jose Eduardo Agualusa                                                                                                              

ISBN: 978-1-90812-901-7

This book comes with a promise of something different from the usual book that one can pick up; it is a story told by the chameleon. This lizard will tell the story of what happens, from its point of view, whilst hanging from the various walls of a house in Angola. Inside this house, past histories are re-arranged, false genealogical ancestors can be found, and all with all the accompanying paperwork, for a price.

I fear that I might not do this novel justice in its content and underlying subtext. I don’t think I know enough about the political history of Angola to fully appreciate the analogies that Agualusa as trying to twist into the text, although I was very aware that there were many there to be found. For example, one character goes off to find the gravestones of his newly invented ancestors, and another, a character with a political background, having been given a false grandparent with a famous status in the city, roundly complained that the local school should be renamed to reflect the importance of the said politician. It seemed not to have occurred to this political figure that everything he as saying, everything he as basing his on importance on, was based on a lie. It just suited him at the time. I have no doubt whatsoever, that wherever in the world you are reading this, you will be able to recognise somebody in the public arena with the same outlook. What I don’t know is whether the author put himself in danger by writing in this style. If he did, then his bravery is paradoxically counterpointed by the idea that the chameleon should be the author. The lizard keeps telling us how much of a coward it is.

As for the book itself, it is an easy flowing, without any overt political overtones, without, seemingly, any morals with which to warn us of; easy to follow text that saunters along quite happily until the end, when we get an ‘oooh’ moment. That surprise is not so much the content, but the very fact that it was there. It really snuck up on me, but like most of these times, it serves to link all the strands of the plot and finishes the story, neatly tied up with no loose ends.  In lots of ways, an ordinary, run of the mill novel, but, as I said at the beginning, I fear I’m missing many more subtle points that are lying under the headline text. Therefore, I do apologise anyone from the region who is exasperated with me, and to the author too for my nondescript review; please don’t let me put you off, the talking lizard is waiting to tell you a tale...

Haiti

After The Dance...A Walk Through Carnival in Jacmel, Haiti

By

 Edwidge Danticat

In the time of Shakespeare, when his actors were all male, the younger men and boys were given the female roles. That, in itself, is not too confusing for his audience. Add to the plot that the female character has to be disguised as a boy, so the boy is now dressed as a girl, dressing as a male. Now, bring it all up to date, give that role to someone like Eddie Izzard, in all of his transvestite glory, and we now have complete confusion – but something we might all want to watch and revel in all the complexity. Finally, let’s ship all this mix to a Caribbean Island and try and follow...

What we have in this book is a blend of travelogue, memoir, and history of the island, all bound together by the author’s return to the island of her birth, in readiness for the carnival at the end of the week. But the confusion begins almost from the very beginning. The early chapters tells of her childhood years; thus beginning the history element, and we meet characters who we can presume we will follow throughout the book, but we won’t. The following chapters will take a theme of a mask for the carnival and will give us a synopsis of why it’s appearing in the carnival, the history, the people that will don these masks, the geography of the island where the mask originated.  I’m sure you get the gist... So, having settled into the new format, we are then shifted back to the carnival itself, but little time is spent at the actual festivities, only a chapter. We will finally get a narrative of the day after the event. The only thing we don’t get is a plot, a story, a tugging of our emotions. There is simply no part of the text that leaves a ‘what happens now’ sense of excitement.

I do understand what the author has tried to do; intertwine the history of her life, with her island and bring it all into a contemporary setting. However, for me, it has dismally failed.  If it had been a travelogue, it would have been fine, albeit sketchy, as a history book, it would have been lacking, as it only scratches the surface of the complexities of the island’s mysterious past. As a memoir, it isn’t! As a work of fiction, it perhaps gives a literary licence to play with facts, landscapes and characters. The trouble is, because it is being so many different things at the same time, it just ends up confusing in every element.  So I’ve no idea whether the information in the text is true, myth or fictional. Similar, I think, to watching Eddie Izzard, playing a Viola, in Twelfth Night. Confusing, distracting, and leaves the audience wondering just what we were supposed to take away from the prose. Certainly, what you see – in this case, on the front cover – is not what you get once you delve further. Shame, really.

Written with all due respect to Eddie Izzard – I have only used his name and character for illustrative purposes of this blog and no opinion regarding his character is suggested, inferred or presumed in any other way. 

Algeria

What the Day Owes the Night

Yasmina Khadra

Warning! Do not attempt this book until you have time to finish it. Once picked up, it is incredibly difficult to put it down until the end. Written, I am told, by an Algerian army officer, who has written under a female assumed name so as to avoid censorship from his superiors, this novel takes us through a multitude of emotions and circumstances.

We follow the life of Younes, or Jonas, taken from an Arab birth to be brought up in the Jewish community. We will follow his life until its conclusion and we will be submerged in the conflicts, both mental and physical between the rich and the poor, and Jew and Muslim (with a smattering of Christianity). French rule competes with independence, interspersed with an internal power struggle. Into this mix, we can add the growing pains of a young man, the angst of unrequited love and the benefits, or otherwise, of a groups of close friends with whom life’s toils are shared. I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything.

So, how has it all fitted it all in? By bombarding us with page after page of quality text! Using both descriptive landscaping and by engaging us with the main protagonists, we are, in short, thrust into the lives of the characters and we are allowed, very quickly, to decide the friendliness (or otherwise) of each in turn. As far as I’m concerned, I did want to know the fate of each one; nobody fell to the wayside. The book is also complete, inasmuch as we are told how each character finishes up. There are no loose ends, and we are allowed to close the book having got all the information we want.

Technically clever, Khadra wastes little time or words throughout. We are expected to understand there is an inherent tension between religions and levels of poverty, but as the international world might fail to know how, why and when the independence conflict started, we are told, at the appropriate time, in about four pages. Enough to learn and understand, but brief enough so as not to get bogged down with the politics. The text remains very readable and easy to follow.

As I travel through my world of authors, I have no doubt that I will want to veer off and read another novel from the same writer; this is the case in this instance. Algeria is made out to be an interesting place, the people complex and the lifestyle worthy of further exploration. And if any other Algerian authors come to the standard of Khdra, producing work of this quality, then I can’t wait to return for a second helping!