Plagued by the stereotypes and tropes of the African continent
this is an uneven book that feels like it’s been written by numbers.
The characters are dislikeable, the storylines
unbelieveable – and I really wanted to believe them but they were just too ‘pat.’
The narrative didn’t have the detail, tone or style that make a story sing. For anyone who’s spent any time in Nigeria, so
much of the detail is incorrect – as if the implied European reader can be
hoodwinked, as if no one from Nigeria would actually read it themselves. There
is a ridiculous marketing ploy on the back cover that won’t tell you what the
book’s about because it’s so incredible and about-to-change-the-world and
builds the book up to a level it can’t possibly attain. And falls very far
short of.
There is a four year old son whose persistently ungrammatical speech sounds
just like padding and is far more annoying than it is endearing. There is the
central character Little Bee who we are expected to believe can be naïve village
girl one moment, then wise African mama the next and it simply isn’t convincing. There is the monumentally dull character Lawrence. And there is Sarah, about
whom we should care very much, but don’t. The twists and turns in the plot feel
like brutal devices to push the story further but do nothing to add depth to
character or theme. I hate to barrack another writer when I know how much hard work goes into a novel but it's not often a book annoys me this much – I’m so glad it’s
over.
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