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4.13 AVERAGE
4.13 AVERAGE
Amazing. I was instantly hooked, Valentino Achak's journey is remarkable and terrifying. He has endured atrocities that one can't even imagine. This book made me want to know more about his story and all other refugees from the war in Sudan. Captivating, I won't stop thinking about this book for a very long time.
This has also solidified that I Dave Eggers is a master story-teller.
This has also solidified that I Dave Eggers is a master story-teller.
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
gorgeously written/ghostwritten epic by Mr. Eggers, with some poignant, resonant anecdotes about Achak Deng's struggles and joys in growing up in refugee camps and as a relocated Lost Boy in the States. i didn't want to put the book down (or, rather, not be able to be immersed in it and in Achak Deng's story), so i stretched the time i spent reading it over 3 weeks!
i especially appreciate that things aren't tied up neatly, which feels so much more honest to the gray areas of memory, ethnic conflict, and the disillusion/confusion that any newcomer might face in coming to a foreign country as a refugee. you don't get much deifying nor do you get much vilification - instead, there is a great deal of empathy for anyone who suffers and there are inquiries into why humans become capable of such hatred and violence against one another.
i HIGHLY recommend this to anyone who wants a personal account and not necessarily a complete history of what is going on in Sudan. i'd be fascinated to read a book written by a female or Muslim refugee from Sudan.
i especially appreciate that things aren't tied up neatly, which feels so much more honest to the gray areas of memory, ethnic conflict, and the disillusion/confusion that any newcomer might face in coming to a foreign country as a refugee. you don't get much deifying nor do you get much vilification - instead, there is a great deal of empathy for anyone who suffers and there are inquiries into why humans become capable of such hatred and violence against one another.
i HIGHLY recommend this to anyone who wants a personal account and not necessarily a complete history of what is going on in Sudan. i'd be fascinated to read a book written by a female or Muslim refugee from Sudan.
Although i'm not the biggest Eggers-fan (I once cursed him, while reading (and hating) 'You Shall Know Our Velocity'), i have to admit that this one is a must-read. The story of Achak is the story of so many people all over the world. And it's told from the heart.
March 17, 2019
"What is the What" is a biography of Valentino Achak Deng, one of the millions of people displaced during the civil war in Sudan. This novel is not tagged as a biography, but as a novel, because the narration is interlaced with fiction. The story starts with Deng living in the US and being robbed by two African-Americans at his home. He starts recollecting his past and the war as a way of screaming the story, even if only in his head, out into the world so as to make it heard.
The fictionalized premise where people are burgling his home feels a little weaker. However, his account of the war, running away from his village, and the description of seemingly endless walking while also starving for food and water for days together overshadows it. The description of hundreds of boys tearing into a dead Elephant’s flesh and eating it raw brings forth a vivid image of their starved, desperate condition.
Reading this book and knowing that such atrocities have happened not just in this part of the world, but elsewhere too brings forth a myriad of emotions. It is horrifying to realize that human beings are capable of subjecting fellow human beings to such cruelty. There is a sort of helpless anger at people in power who do not give a rat's ass about the populace that is actually affected by it all. I cannot fathom how easy it is for people to inflict such cruelty and not have it affect their conscience in any way. There is also a disconcerting realization that history seems to have not taught us anything and there are people who are are going through such harrowing experience even now. And a scary forethought of what might be in store for us in the future.
Update: March 22, 2019
The first part of the book speaks about the Lost Boys’ journey on foot from Sudan to Ethiopia while the second part speaks about their condition in the refugee camp once they arrive there. During the walk, the boys would dream up all sorts of colourful images of how they were going to live once they were done walking, but the ‘promised land’ turns out to be the other side of the river. The boys are disappointed, their expectations vanishing in a haze. Their only consolation is that they aren’t being persecuted anymore.
In the initial days at Pinyudo, the Ethiopian refugee camp, the refugees are slowly recovering; fishing, and searching for food anywhere they can. Eventually, aid from the UN arrives and their conditions improve. They aren’t starving anymore. They have a chance at a decent meal, a chance at becoming educated in a makeshift school at the refugee camp.
A terrible trait we human beings have is that we always resort to differentiating ourselves from others. This gives rise to a caste system within the refugee camp, with about sixteen thousand unaccompanied minors occupying the lower rungs of this system. These boys are exploited by those in the SPLA (Sudanese rebel army) to serve as their foot soldiers, exploited by those who are better off to do their odd jobs, often dangerous ones that involve going deep into the forest where the unfortunate ones are devoured by wild animals. Their routine allowed them very little time to do anything else besides school, training by the SPLA and doing odd jobs to the elders in the community, and all of this lasted until they were driven out from Pinyudo during a coup in Ethiopia.
Update: March 29, 2019
After being driven out of Ethiopia, the refugees live a nomadic life for about a year before settling in at a refugee camp in Kenya (Kakuma). The third part of the book describes the refugees’ life at Kakuma and the resettlement of the Lost Boys in countries like the US, Australia etc. Throughout the book, the protagonist speaks about misfortune following him everywhere he goes. So many unfortunate incidents happen to Deng that after a while, we too become wary of what might be in store for him. There are happy events too, such as him finding out his parents are alive and well after all, and his resettlement in the US after a lot of anticipation, where he starts a new life.
After reading so much of what he went through, it is a relief to learn that he’s doing well in life and that he’s helping with the betterment of his country by building schools and providing education to the children of rural areas in his country [1]. He’s even been made the minister for education [2]. His journey from being a Lost Boy to helping rebuild his country is an inspiring story. I am happy that I read it, and happy to give this book a 5 star rating!
1. http://www.vadfoundation.org/marial-bai-secondary-school
2. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-33448231
*** Excerpts from the book ***
This is the most heartbreaking piece of writing I've come across yet.
In the mirror of William K, I did not look well that day. My cheeks were sunken, my eyes ringed in blue. My tongue was white, my hipbones were visible through my shorts. My throat felt lined with wood and grass. Attempting to swallow caused enormous pain. Boys were walking with their hands on their throats, trying to massage moisture into them. I was quiet and we continued to walk. The afternoon was a very slow one. We could not walk at a pace near to what we had when the walk began. We were covering so little ground. This day, William K asked to stop frequently. —Just to stop and stand for a moment, he said. And we would stop and William would lean on me, resting his hand on my shoulder. He would take three breaths and say he was ready again. We did not want to fall behind.
—I feel so heavy, Achak. Do you feel heavy this way?
—I do. I do, William. Everyone does.
The afternoon cooled and the air was easier to breathe. Word came down the line that someone had found the carcass of a dik-dik. They had chased away the vultures and they were trying to find some edible meat on the bones of the animal.
—I need to rest again, William K whispered.
—We should sit for a while.
I did not agree that we should sit, but William K was already making his way to a tree, and soon was sitting beneath it, his head against the trunk.
—We need to walk, I said. William K closed his eyes.
—We need to rest. Rest with me, Achak.
—They’ve found a dik-dik.
—That sounds good. He looked up to me and smiled.
—We need to get some of the meat. It’ll be gone in seconds, William. I watched as William K’s eyes flickered, his eyelids closing slowly.
—Soon, he said.
—But sit for a second. This is helping me. Please. I stood above him, giving him shade, allowing him a few moments of peace, and then said it was time to go.
—It’s not time, he said.
—The meat will be gone.
—You get some. Can you get some and bring it back to me? God forgive me, I thought this was a good idea.
—I’ll come back, I said.
—Good, he said.
—Keep your eyes open, I said.
—Okay, he said. He looked up to me and nodded.
—I need this. I feel like this is helping me. His eyes slowly closed and I ran to get our share of the animal. While I was gone, the life in William K fell away and his flesh returned to the earth.
I had known William K since he was a baby and I was a baby. Our mothers had placed us in the same bed as infants. We knew each other as we learned to walk and speak. I could not remember more than a handful of those days that we had not been together, that I had not run with William K. We were simply friends who lived in a village together and expected to always be boys and friends in our village. But in these past months, we had traveled so far from our families, and we had no homes, and we had become so weak and no longer looked as we had before. And now William K’s life had ended and his body lay at my feet.
I sat next to him for some time. In my hand his hand became warm again and I looked into his face. I kept the flies at bay and refused to look up; I knew the vultures would be circling and I knew that I could not prevent them from coming to William K. But I decided that I would bury him, that I would bury him even if it meant that I would lose my place with the group. After seeing the dead and dying of the lost Fist, I no longer had any faith in our journey or in our guides. It seemed only logical that what had begun would continue: that we would walk and die until all boys were gone.
I dug as best I could, though I needed to rest frequently; the activity made me lightheaded and short of breath. I could not cry; there was not the water in my body to spare.
—Achak, come!
It was Kur. I saw him in the distance, waving to me. The group had assembled again and was leaving. I chose not to tell Kur or anyone that William K was dead. He was mine and I did not want them touching him. I did not want them telling me how to bury him or how to cover him or that he should be abandoned where he lay. I had not buried Deng but I would bury William K. I waved back to Kur and told him I would come soon and then returned to my digging.
—Now, Achak!
The hole was meager and I knew it would not cover William K. But it would keep the carrion birds at bay for some time, long enough so that I would be able to walk far enough that I wouldn’t have to see them descend. I placed leaves on the bottom of the hole, enough that he had a cushion for his head and there was no dirt visible. I dragged William K into the hole and then placed leaves over his face and hands. I bent his knees and folded his feet behind his knees to save space. Now I needed to rest again, and I sat, feeling small satisfaction in knowing that he would fit inside the hole I had made after all.
—Goodbye, Achak! Kur yelled. I saw that the boys had already left. Kur waited a few moments for me, and then turned.
I did not want to leave William K. I wanted to die with him. I was so tired at that moment, so bone-tired that I felt that I could fall asleep as he did, sleep until my body went cold. But then I thought of my mother and my father, my brothers and sisters, and found myself invoking William K’s own mythic visions of Ethiopia. The world was terrible but perhaps I would see them again. It was enough to bring me to my feet again. I stood and chose to continue walking, to walk until I could not walk. I would finish burying William K and then I would follow the boys.
I could not watch the first dirt fall on William K’s face so I kicked the first layer with the back of my heel. Once his head was covered, I spread more dirt and rocks until it bore some resemblance to a real grave. When I was finished, I told William K that I was sorry. I was sorry that I had not known how sick he was. That I had not found a way to keep him alive. That I was the last person he saw on this earth. That he could not say goodbye to his mother and father, that only I would know where his body lay. It was a broken world, I knew then, that would allow a boy such as me to bury a boy such as William K.
Dave Eggers. What is the What: The Autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng
"What is the What" is a biography of Valentino Achak Deng, one of the millions of people displaced during the civil war in Sudan. This novel is not tagged as a biography, but as a novel, because the narration is interlaced with fiction. The story starts with Deng living in the US and being robbed by two African-Americans at his home. He starts recollecting his past and the war as a way of screaming the story, even if only in his head, out into the world so as to make it heard.
The fictionalized premise where people are burgling his home feels a little weaker. However, his account of the war, running away from his village, and the description of seemingly endless walking while also starving for food and water for days together overshadows it. The description of hundreds of boys tearing into a dead Elephant’s flesh and eating it raw brings forth a vivid image of their starved, desperate condition.
Reading this book and knowing that such atrocities have happened not just in this part of the world, but elsewhere too brings forth a myriad of emotions. It is horrifying to realize that human beings are capable of subjecting fellow human beings to such cruelty. There is a sort of helpless anger at people in power who do not give a rat's ass about the populace that is actually affected by it all. I cannot fathom how easy it is for people to inflict such cruelty and not have it affect their conscience in any way. There is also a disconcerting realization that history seems to have not taught us anything and there are people who are are going through such harrowing experience even now. And a scary forethought of what might be in store for us in the future.
Update: March 22, 2019
The first part of the book speaks about the Lost Boys’ journey on foot from Sudan to Ethiopia while the second part speaks about their condition in the refugee camp once they arrive there. During the walk, the boys would dream up all sorts of colourful images of how they were going to live once they were done walking, but the ‘promised land’ turns out to be the other side of the river. The boys are disappointed, their expectations vanishing in a haze. Their only consolation is that they aren’t being persecuted anymore.
In the initial days at Pinyudo, the Ethiopian refugee camp, the refugees are slowly recovering; fishing, and searching for food anywhere they can. Eventually, aid from the UN arrives and their conditions improve. They aren’t starving anymore. They have a chance at a decent meal, a chance at becoming educated in a makeshift school at the refugee camp.
A terrible trait we human beings have is that we always resort to differentiating ourselves from others. This gives rise to a caste system within the refugee camp, with about sixteen thousand unaccompanied minors occupying the lower rungs of this system. These boys are exploited by those in the SPLA (Sudanese rebel army) to serve as their foot soldiers, exploited by those who are better off to do their odd jobs, often dangerous ones that involve going deep into the forest where the unfortunate ones are devoured by wild animals. Their routine allowed them very little time to do anything else besides school, training by the SPLA and doing odd jobs to the elders in the community, and all of this lasted until they were driven out from Pinyudo during a coup in Ethiopia.
Update: March 29, 2019
After being driven out of Ethiopia, the refugees live a nomadic life for about a year before settling in at a refugee camp in Kenya (Kakuma). The third part of the book describes the refugees’ life at Kakuma and the resettlement of the Lost Boys in countries like the US, Australia etc. Throughout the book, the protagonist speaks about misfortune following him everywhere he goes. So many unfortunate incidents happen to Deng that after a while, we too become wary of what might be in store for him. There are happy events too, such as him finding out his parents are alive and well after all, and his resettlement in the US after a lot of anticipation, where he starts a new life.
After reading so much of what he went through, it is a relief to learn that he’s doing well in life and that he’s helping with the betterment of his country by building schools and providing education to the children of rural areas in his country [1]. He’s even been made the minister for education [2]. His journey from being a Lost Boy to helping rebuild his country is an inspiring story. I am happy that I read it, and happy to give this book a 5 star rating!
1. http://www.vadfoundation.org/marial-bai-secondary-school
2. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-33448231
*** Excerpts from the book ***
This is the most heartbreaking piece of writing I've come across yet.
In the mirror of William K, I did not look well that day. My cheeks were sunken, my eyes ringed in blue. My tongue was white, my hipbones were visible through my shorts. My throat felt lined with wood and grass. Attempting to swallow caused enormous pain. Boys were walking with their hands on their throats, trying to massage moisture into them. I was quiet and we continued to walk. The afternoon was a very slow one. We could not walk at a pace near to what we had when the walk began. We were covering so little ground. This day, William K asked to stop frequently. —Just to stop and stand for a moment, he said. And we would stop and William would lean on me, resting his hand on my shoulder. He would take three breaths and say he was ready again. We did not want to fall behind.
—I feel so heavy, Achak. Do you feel heavy this way?
—I do. I do, William. Everyone does.
The afternoon cooled and the air was easier to breathe. Word came down the line that someone had found the carcass of a dik-dik. They had chased away the vultures and they were trying to find some edible meat on the bones of the animal.
—I need to rest again, William K whispered.
—We should sit for a while.
I did not agree that we should sit, but William K was already making his way to a tree, and soon was sitting beneath it, his head against the trunk.
—We need to walk, I said. William K closed his eyes.
—We need to rest. Rest with me, Achak.
—They’ve found a dik-dik.
—That sounds good. He looked up to me and smiled.
—We need to get some of the meat. It’ll be gone in seconds, William. I watched as William K’s eyes flickered, his eyelids closing slowly.
—Soon, he said.
—But sit for a second. This is helping me. Please. I stood above him, giving him shade, allowing him a few moments of peace, and then said it was time to go.
—It’s not time, he said.
—The meat will be gone.
—You get some. Can you get some and bring it back to me? God forgive me, I thought this was a good idea.
—I’ll come back, I said.
—Good, he said.
—Keep your eyes open, I said.
—Okay, he said. He looked up to me and nodded.
—I need this. I feel like this is helping me. His eyes slowly closed and I ran to get our share of the animal. While I was gone, the life in William K fell away and his flesh returned to the earth.
I had known William K since he was a baby and I was a baby. Our mothers had placed us in the same bed as infants. We knew each other as we learned to walk and speak. I could not remember more than a handful of those days that we had not been together, that I had not run with William K. We were simply friends who lived in a village together and expected to always be boys and friends in our village. But in these past months, we had traveled so far from our families, and we had no homes, and we had become so weak and no longer looked as we had before. And now William K’s life had ended and his body lay at my feet.
I sat next to him for some time. In my hand his hand became warm again and I looked into his face. I kept the flies at bay and refused to look up; I knew the vultures would be circling and I knew that I could not prevent them from coming to William K. But I decided that I would bury him, that I would bury him even if it meant that I would lose my place with the group. After seeing the dead and dying of the lost Fist, I no longer had any faith in our journey or in our guides. It seemed only logical that what had begun would continue: that we would walk and die until all boys were gone.
I dug as best I could, though I needed to rest frequently; the activity made me lightheaded and short of breath. I could not cry; there was not the water in my body to spare.
—Achak, come!
It was Kur. I saw him in the distance, waving to me. The group had assembled again and was leaving. I chose not to tell Kur or anyone that William K was dead. He was mine and I did not want them touching him. I did not want them telling me how to bury him or how to cover him or that he should be abandoned where he lay. I had not buried Deng but I would bury William K. I waved back to Kur and told him I would come soon and then returned to my digging.
—Now, Achak!
The hole was meager and I knew it would not cover William K. But it would keep the carrion birds at bay for some time, long enough so that I would be able to walk far enough that I wouldn’t have to see them descend. I placed leaves on the bottom of the hole, enough that he had a cushion for his head and there was no dirt visible. I dragged William K into the hole and then placed leaves over his face and hands. I bent his knees and folded his feet behind his knees to save space. Now I needed to rest again, and I sat, feeling small satisfaction in knowing that he would fit inside the hole I had made after all.
—Goodbye, Achak! Kur yelled. I saw that the boys had already left. Kur waited a few moments for me, and then turned.
I did not want to leave William K. I wanted to die with him. I was so tired at that moment, so bone-tired that I felt that I could fall asleep as he did, sleep until my body went cold. But then I thought of my mother and my father, my brothers and sisters, and found myself invoking William K’s own mythic visions of Ethiopia. The world was terrible but perhaps I would see them again. It was enough to bring me to my feet again. I stood and chose to continue walking, to walk until I could not walk. I would finish burying William K and then I would follow the boys.
I could not watch the first dirt fall on William K’s face so I kicked the first layer with the back of my heel. Once his head was covered, I spread more dirt and rocks until it bore some resemblance to a real grave. When I was finished, I told William K that I was sorry. I was sorry that I had not known how sick he was. That I had not found a way to keep him alive. That I was the last person he saw on this earth. That he could not say goodbye to his mother and father, that only I would know where his body lay. It was a broken world, I knew then, that would allow a boy such as me to bury a boy such as William K.
Dave Eggers. What is the What: The Autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng
this was one of the most moving books i've ever read. absolutely heartbreaking, yes. but inspiring as well. recommended for all.
Ok. I don't like Dave Eggers, but valentino achack deng deserves your time.
-------
After randomly thinking about this book today (in July 2015) I've decided to lower my score. This book *wants* to be a biography. It *wants* to have the force and legitimacy of a factual account. The story loses much of its interest if it is not true, or if we cannot know what parts of it are true.
And we can't.
I still suspect that the main character of the novel - in real life - deserves your attention. And so perhaps there is some merit in embellishing and marketing his story for the mass market, drawing needed attention to this region and its people. But it's a shame if so.
As a novel it's fine but not exceptional. One gets the feeling that Mr. Eggers, having made his career by telling his own sob story, has decided to tell us everyone else's.
-------
After randomly thinking about this book today (in July 2015) I've decided to lower my score. This book *wants* to be a biography. It *wants* to have the force and legitimacy of a factual account. The story loses much of its interest if it is not true, or if we cannot know what parts of it are true.
And we can't.
I still suspect that the main character of the novel - in real life - deserves your attention. And so perhaps there is some merit in embellishing and marketing his story for the mass market, drawing needed attention to this region and its people. But it's a shame if so.
As a novel it's fine but not exceptional. One gets the feeling that Mr. Eggers, having made his career by telling his own sob story, has decided to tell us everyone else's.
This book is fantastic. Written by Dave Eggers, it is the story of a boy named Achak who fled Sudan on foot at the age of 7 and became one of the famous lost boys. His story is beautifully written by Eggers and it jumps back and forth between the day he was mugged in his apartment in Atlanta and extended flashbacks to his experiences as a refugee.
The book is a great length -- it was nice to immerse myself in a long story that was also captivating and a fairly quick read. I was overwhelmed by his experience at times, and really find it hard to imagine a group of 7 year old boys running for their lives through a pitch black desert and then walking under the hot sun with nothing to eat or drink for days on end to make it to Ethiopia (and beyond). His indomitable spirit through decades of hardship is unbelievable. And throughout the book I found myself rooting for things to finally get better for him.
The book is a great length -- it was nice to immerse myself in a long story that was also captivating and a fairly quick read. I was overwhelmed by his experience at times, and really find it hard to imagine a group of 7 year old boys running for their lives through a pitch black desert and then walking under the hot sun with nothing to eat or drink for days on end to make it to Ethiopia (and beyond). His indomitable spirit through decades of hardship is unbelievable. And throughout the book I found myself rooting for things to finally get better for him.
Oh, so well told. These are the lives and experiences that need to be heard and witnessed.