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jmbz38's review
challenging
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.75
karenreader's review
dark
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
Didn’t enjoy reading it, but I’m glad I did. Excellent at giving a sense of chaos through writing.
scribepub's review
This ambitious fugue from Congolese writer Fiston Mwanza Mujila delves into an African nation riven by civil war, disease, poverty, and endemic corruption … It’s bustling, strange experimental fiction in which the chaos of daily life leaks like blood from the iron fist of violence and profit.
Cameron Woodhead, Sydney Morning Herald
[E]xuberant … Mujila, a playwright and a poet, has produced a formally engaging book that mimics both the structures of jazz and the sense of overhearing conversation in a bar … The whole book is charged with snarled, involving language; you always feel you're hunting for thoughtful treasures.
The Saturday Paper
The writing, which has all the edgy darkness of the best street lit, sometimes mimics the bar’s background jazz in its syncopation and the occasional quick-burst, broken-sentence, run-on format, with the bar regulars feeling like a Greek chorus. Born in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mujila has turned out a multiaward-winning debut that’s decidedly cool and juicy.
Library Journal
The writing has the pulsing, staccato rhythms of Beat poetry … Tram 83 is an antidote to the gloomy nature of most African novels. It doesn’t glamorize the ugliness, yet it’s alive to the thrill and abandonment of living for the moment and “satisfying the pleasures of the underbelly.”
Wall Street Journal
One of the most exciting discoveries of the rentrée … There is some Hieronymus Bosch in this frenetic, flamboyant, closed-door city slicker. An insolent, globe-trotting Hieronymus Bosch, one who would have read Gabriel García Márquez and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
Le Monde
A formidable demonstration of the power of literature.
Télérama
A hallucinating and hallucinogenic Congolese fresco where everything is about music. An incandescent novel.
France Inter
A novel of a mind-blowing and poetic beauty.
Point Magazine
A debut novel with a vertiginous rhythm. Picaresque poetry turned into music by a mix of slam and a series of loops and turns as bewitching as a sustained jazz melody.
Sean James Rose, Livres Hebdo
At 33, Fiston Mwanza Mujila pens a very promising first novel.
Jeune Afrique
A real discovery among the novels of the rentrée. Not to be missed.
Alain Mabanckou, Jeune Afrique
The style is really quite something, a rich, rhythmic language, hallucinogenic and dreamlike in places. A feast!
Translator Roland Glasser
Invigorating and narcotic, Fiston Mwanza Mujila’s writing multiplies the language creativity by polishing a painting of an imaginary Africa.
Muriel Mingau, Le Populaire du Centre
Tram 83 is a high-speed journey, a tragic, burlesque, melancholic and melodic story.
Christine Ferniot, Lire
Tram 83 is a rhapsody. A crazy saxophone solo rising silently with the echo of the chorus.
Emile Rabaté, Libération
Attention, comet! We dive into this Tram 83 like we dive into a piece by Coltrane, of which we never come out of.
Laurent Bosque, Rolling Stone
Fiston Mwanza invents the “locomotion-literature”, the “theatre-story” genre, and turns his debut novel into a manifest for convulsive poetic prose, half-way between Aimé Césaire and Boris Vian.
Chloé Thibaud, Le Nouvel Observateur
Here’s a debut novel that anticipates a promising literary career.
Caya Makhélé, Notre Afrik
From Graz, in Austria, where he lives, the Congolese author Fiston Mwanza Mujila reinvents in his first novel the joyful and terrible brothels of his home country.
Muriel Steinmetz, L’Humanité
Tram 83 is part Satantango, part Fitzcarraldo, and part Blood Meridian. A dark, funny, and true accomplishment.
Chad Felix, Word Bookstores
Tram 83 isn’t for the faint of heart, but rather, it’s for those that have a sense of humor, an interest in seedy underbellies, and a willingness to, at times, feel a little lost in the haze of biblical imagery, flippant debauchery, free sex, and anarchy. Ezra Pound would be proud; Mujila “made it new”.
Josh Cook, Foreword Reviews
Talk about verve — and vivre: Fiston Mwanza Mujila’s Tram 83 introduces a rousing, remarkable new voice to this world, surely in its original French, most definitely in Roland Glasser’s superb translation. This book has drive and force and movement, it has hops and chops. It has voices!
Rick Simonson, Elliot Bay Book Company
I was totally into the wild formal thug-haunted adventurousness of Tram 83.
Forrest Gander, Author of The Trace
Blade Runner in Africa with a John Coltrane soundtrack.
Mark Haber, Brazos Bookstore
Through observation and conversation, the reader is exposed to the economic boom and cultural bust of contemporary Africa in search of what the future holds for human relationships and survival in a place where tradition and personal histories are quickly being swept under the rug by global forces. Mujila captures chaos in a hypnotic free-jazz rhythm that is so rarely found in novels of this scope.
Kevin Elliott, 57th Street Books
Tram 83 reads like a modern, twisted The Great Gatsby… An unaffected view of humanity that is at once repulsive, hilarious, and oddly uplifting … The novel, like the nightclub, is eccentric and somewhat disturbing, yet inclusive and universally appealing.
Caitlin Thomas, Three Percent
Cameron Woodhead, Sydney Morning Herald
[E]xuberant … Mujila, a playwright and a poet, has produced a formally engaging book that mimics both the structures of jazz and the sense of overhearing conversation in a bar … The whole book is charged with snarled, involving language; you always feel you're hunting for thoughtful treasures.
The Saturday Paper
The writing, which has all the edgy darkness of the best street lit, sometimes mimics the bar’s background jazz in its syncopation and the occasional quick-burst, broken-sentence, run-on format, with the bar regulars feeling like a Greek chorus. Born in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mujila has turned out a multiaward-winning debut that’s decidedly cool and juicy.
Library Journal
The writing has the pulsing, staccato rhythms of Beat poetry … Tram 83 is an antidote to the gloomy nature of most African novels. It doesn’t glamorize the ugliness, yet it’s alive to the thrill and abandonment of living for the moment and “satisfying the pleasures of the underbelly.”
Wall Street Journal
One of the most exciting discoveries of the rentrée … There is some Hieronymus Bosch in this frenetic, flamboyant, closed-door city slicker. An insolent, globe-trotting Hieronymus Bosch, one who would have read Gabriel García Márquez and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
Le Monde
A formidable demonstration of the power of literature.
Télérama
A hallucinating and hallucinogenic Congolese fresco where everything is about music. An incandescent novel.
France Inter
A novel of a mind-blowing and poetic beauty.
Point Magazine
A debut novel with a vertiginous rhythm. Picaresque poetry turned into music by a mix of slam and a series of loops and turns as bewitching as a sustained jazz melody.
Sean James Rose, Livres Hebdo
At 33, Fiston Mwanza Mujila pens a very promising first novel.
Jeune Afrique
A real discovery among the novels of the rentrée. Not to be missed.
Alain Mabanckou, Jeune Afrique
The style is really quite something, a rich, rhythmic language, hallucinogenic and dreamlike in places. A feast!
Translator Roland Glasser
Invigorating and narcotic, Fiston Mwanza Mujila’s writing multiplies the language creativity by polishing a painting of an imaginary Africa.
Muriel Mingau, Le Populaire du Centre
Tram 83 is a high-speed journey, a tragic, burlesque, melancholic and melodic story.
Christine Ferniot, Lire
Tram 83 is a rhapsody. A crazy saxophone solo rising silently with the echo of the chorus.
Emile Rabaté, Libération
Attention, comet! We dive into this Tram 83 like we dive into a piece by Coltrane, of which we never come out of.
Laurent Bosque, Rolling Stone
Fiston Mwanza invents the “locomotion-literature”, the “theatre-story” genre, and turns his debut novel into a manifest for convulsive poetic prose, half-way between Aimé Césaire and Boris Vian.
Chloé Thibaud, Le Nouvel Observateur
Here’s a debut novel that anticipates a promising literary career.
Caya Makhélé, Notre Afrik
From Graz, in Austria, where he lives, the Congolese author Fiston Mwanza Mujila reinvents in his first novel the joyful and terrible brothels of his home country.
Muriel Steinmetz, L’Humanité
Tram 83 is part Satantango, part Fitzcarraldo, and part Blood Meridian. A dark, funny, and true accomplishment.
Chad Felix, Word Bookstores
Tram 83 isn’t for the faint of heart, but rather, it’s for those that have a sense of humor, an interest in seedy underbellies, and a willingness to, at times, feel a little lost in the haze of biblical imagery, flippant debauchery, free sex, and anarchy. Ezra Pound would be proud; Mujila “made it new”.
Josh Cook, Foreword Reviews
Talk about verve — and vivre: Fiston Mwanza Mujila’s Tram 83 introduces a rousing, remarkable new voice to this world, surely in its original French, most definitely in Roland Glasser’s superb translation. This book has drive and force and movement, it has hops and chops. It has voices!
Rick Simonson, Elliot Bay Book Company
I was totally into the wild formal thug-haunted adventurousness of Tram 83.
Forrest Gander, Author of The Trace
Blade Runner in Africa with a John Coltrane soundtrack.
Mark Haber, Brazos Bookstore
Through observation and conversation, the reader is exposed to the economic boom and cultural bust of contemporary Africa in search of what the future holds for human relationships and survival in a place where tradition and personal histories are quickly being swept under the rug by global forces. Mujila captures chaos in a hypnotic free-jazz rhythm that is so rarely found in novels of this scope.
Kevin Elliott, 57th Street Books
Tram 83 reads like a modern, twisted The Great Gatsby… An unaffected view of humanity that is at once repulsive, hilarious, and oddly uplifting … The novel, like the nightclub, is eccentric and somewhat disturbing, yet inclusive and universally appealing.
Caitlin Thomas, Three Percent
_izzyreeves02_'s review
challenging
dark
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
capital_letter's review
4.0
For the most part more of a narrative poem (or a philosophical rant with poetic aspirations) than a novel, somewhat disjointed and abstract at times, but definitely a satisfying read throughout.
I was almost going to give it just three or even two stars at certain points, but the ending really won me over. Nice.
I was almost going to give it just three or even two stars at certain points, but the ending really won me over. Nice.
nghia's review
3.0
I picked up Tram 83 based on lithub.com calling it one of the 10 best translated novels of the 2010s.
Tram 83 is not an easy book to read or even really to form coherent thoughts about. In a lot of ways it is like a long, extended prose poem and my feeling after reading it is more impressionistic than deeply thoughtful. (The author published a number of books of poetry before this, his first novel.) To tell you the mere plot doesn't really convey what it is about. That's not this kind of book. Really it is about trying to convey a sense of place. Tram 83 takes place in a breakaway republic of a nameless African country. While the rest of the country is poor, this nameless city-state has vast, newly discovered, mineral wealth. Tram 83 is the café-bar-club-brothel where seemingly everyone comes to spend their money.
While I'm pretty ambivalent about the book overall, large parts of it did resonate with me because of the times I've spent in places much like Tram 83 in a developing country. The sudden boom town feeling. The stark contrast between the sudden extreme wealth of a very few and the crushing poverty of the majority. The strange racialised elitism of white (almost exclusively male) residents of the enclave -- company executives, NGO workers, gap year students off the beaten path. The way the wealth shifts almost exclusively into male hands -- they're the CEOs, the mine workers, the educated elite -- and women have just a few short years to attempt to trade their youthful looks for a lifetime of financial support.
If you've never in a country where keeping the empties at the table like this is common practice, then you probably won't have the same emotional resonance to the description of time and place that Tram 83 evokes.
The author's poetry background shines through in many of the stylistic choices. Some worked but others felt overly indulgent; like when he repeats "mournful" over 50 times trying to convince us how mournful a certain song is. He does a pretty great job of conveying the feeling of dozens of overlapping conversations and the constant, repetitive patter of street vendors and sex workers.
Tram 83 is not an easy book to read or even really to form coherent thoughts about. In a lot of ways it is like a long, extended prose poem and my feeling after reading it is more impressionistic than deeply thoughtful. (The author published a number of books of poetry before this, his first novel.) To tell you the mere plot doesn't really convey what it is about. That's not this kind of book. Really it is about trying to convey a sense of place. Tram 83 takes place in a breakaway republic of a nameless African country. While the rest of the country is poor, this nameless city-state has vast, newly discovered, mineral wealth. Tram 83 is the café-bar-club-brothel where seemingly everyone comes to spend their money.
While I'm pretty ambivalent about the book overall, large parts of it did resonate with me because of the times I've spent in places much like Tram 83 in a developing country. The sudden boom town feeling. The stark contrast between the sudden extreme wealth of a very few and the crushing poverty of the majority. The strange racialised elitism of white (almost exclusively male) residents of the enclave -- company executives, NGO workers, gap year students off the beaten path. The way the wealth shifts almost exclusively into male hands -- they're the CEOs, the mine workers, the educated elite -- and women have just a few short years to attempt to trade their youthful looks for a lifetime of financial support.
A man, school principal type, past fifty, was already sat there. Alone with his cigarettes and a fine row of bottles, portents of an inveterate alcoholism. When you got wasted, you didn’t return the empties, in order to avoid misunderstandings.
If you've never in a country where keeping the empties at the table like this is common practice, then you probably won't have the same emotional resonance to the description of time and place that Tram 83 evokes.
The author's poetry background shines through in many of the stylistic choices. Some worked but others felt overly indulgent; like when he repeats "mournful" over 50 times trying to convince us how mournful a certain song is. He does a pretty great job of conveying the feeling of dozens of overlapping conversations and the constant, repetitive patter of street vendors and sex workers.
“You’re handsome.”
“Me?”
“You’re handsome like in a porn film.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, very handsome, like in a film where they practice sexual relations,” replied the young woman, evasively.
The publisher gave a long sigh.
abbie_'s review
Just a not the right time thing, might pick it up later. But if I do, I’ll get myself a new copy because this one was obviously used for a class as it’s covered in underlines and annotations which I find impossible to ignore!
jimmylorunning's review
4.5
MEN AND WINDS HAVE THIS IN COMMON: NEITHER HAVE THEIR FEET ON THE GROUND. NOMADS, THEY COME AND GO LIKE THE PAIN OF SHATTERED LOVE, NERVOUS TENSION, INDEPENDENCIES, WARS OF LIBERATION, THE URGENT NEED TO DEFECATE IN THE STAIRWELL OF A BUILDING BETWEEN TWO BLACKOUTS.
the viscerality of the text
the urgency of the text
the propulsive rhythm of the train tracks
the atmosphere of the City-State spilling off the page
the urgency of the text
the propulsive rhythm of the train tracks
the atmosphere of the City-State spilling off the page
All nights have this particularity: they are long and popular. They teem with the rabble. They stifle awareness and accrue neurosis. They bind a straw mattress and a clock into an unrecognizable muddle. They come from the heart, improvise, and facilitate multiple partnership agreements between foreign bodies.
the prose is loud and soft simultaneously, somehow
a petri dish where nothing much happens plot-wise but you look closer and notice all these organisms screaming and fucking
the way the voices interweave into the text not to be snuffed out
a petri dish where nothing much happens plot-wise but you look closer and notice all these organisms screaming and fucking
the way the voices interweave into the text not to be snuffed out
"Do you have the time?"
voices disembodied from speakers, interrupting all thought
with no help from Fiston as to who's saying what but it's still clear if you relax, let it wash over you
even a description is broken up by voices asking if you have the time and other such things, do you?
with no help from Fiston as to who's saying what but it's still clear if you relax, let it wash over you
even a description is broken up by voices asking if you have the time and other such things, do you?
RULE NUMBER 64: let them play the hardmen, for they paper over society’s dregs. RULE NUMBER 67: the mightier crush the mighty, the mighty defecate in the mouths of the weak, the weak sequestrate the weaker, the weaker do each other in, then split for elsewhere.
the underlying tragedy of a place plundered
but not without enjoyment of the ephemeral present if you call this enjoyment
but not without enjoyment of the ephemeral present if you call this enjoyment
RULE NUMBER 46: fuck by day, fuck by night, fuck and fuck some more for you know not what tomorrow brings.
i disagree with those that say the book is sexist... it shows a sexist society, but that is different from it being sexist. in fact, it shows the reality of the situation for many of these women in a very tragic light, and i do feel there is an empathy here, a subtle but definite editorial angle, the same way he shows the inequalities in other sections of his City-State
The City-State works like this: the girls are emancipated, democratic, and independent. Poverty does away with shame and your courtesies.
if you call this enjoyment... except enjoyment here is debased, twisted, not really enjoyment, more like a form of escapism, denial thru base desires, the pleasures of the underbelly
The main character in the African novel is always single, neurotic, perverse, depressive, childless, homeless, and overburdened with debt. Here, we live, we fuck, we’re happy. There needs to be fucking in African literature too!
BTW i'm not reviewing this as african lit, just lit AF
afterall isn't life shit everywhere? the nihilism at play here feels very of the moment
one where we plunder our own earth for resources, tear down our own house for big money, sell our own bodies and our own minds...for what?
actually, i think you either live in a world where this is a daily reality, or in a world of comforts that allows you to ignore this reality (but is still fueled by this reality)
and the lowest of the low survive to make a quick buck because they don't have any other option
ignoring all the rules, all sense of perspectives
afterall isn't life shit everywhere? the nihilism at play here feels very of the moment
one where we plunder our own earth for resources, tear down our own house for big money, sell our own bodies and our own minds...for what?
actually, i think you either live in a world where this is a daily reality, or in a world of comforts that allows you to ignore this reality (but is still fueled by this reality)
and the lowest of the low survive to make a quick buck because they don't have any other option
ignoring all the rules, all sense of perspectives
He felt guilty at fiddling with history. Is there a limit to the imagination of a writer who takes real facts and uses them to construct a world where truth and fiction coexist? What right does one have to play around with collective memory? Is there any credibility in getting these sometimes-disparate characters in tune?
sometimes 'you' is lucien. sometimes 'us' is the collective of City-State. sometimes there is just a 'they'
the high highs are exhilirating, but sometimes the lows are necessary to tie them together, to string along an explanation or a backstory. sometimes the book falls back to this human-level prose, which is understandable, yet still slightly disappointing
the high highs are exhilirating, but sometimes the lows are necessary to tie them together, to string along an explanation or a backstory. sometimes the book falls back to this human-level prose, which is understandable, yet still slightly disappointing
the rules of the game are clearly defined, and that the main thing is to live off anything that falls into your hands. The tragedy is already written, we merely preface it.
ps if you're still unconvinced, please watch Fiston read one of his poems to white men https://youtu.be/beATnkDlX68?t=208 (starting at 3:28) it is hilarious and poignant and also you'll understand everything you need to about where his writing comes from even if you (like me) don't understand a single word of french