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A review by tasmanian_bibliophile
Here Come The Dogs by Omar Musa
4.0
‘Where are these c---s?’
Thus begins Omar Musa’s novel. It’s written in a combination of poetry and prose, and examines the alienation, disempowerment and dislocation of three young men on the fringes of Australian urban society. The three young men, Solomon Amosa, a Samoan, his ‘beige’ coloured half-brother Jimmy and Solomon’s best friend Aleks Janeski, a Macedonian, attend a local greyhound race meeting. The men talk about dog racing (it will be the last race for a dog called Mercury Fire), about women, about hip-hop. Solomon, who went to a private school on a basketball scholarship is both the most personable and the most self-aware. Jimmy, who doesn’t know who his father is, doesn’t know where he belongs. Aleks, married with a small daughter, is trying to improve their situation. He does a bit of graffiti (‘graff’), but ends up in prison in association with drug trafficking.
‘This has always been a land of fire.’
So, what makes this story work? Does the poetry fracture the prose, or unify it? What forms will their individual struggles for identity take? And how does hip-hop work as a unifying force? There’s constant movement in this novel, the rhythm of the poetry, the beat of the music underscore the activity, and the environment itself is not passive. There’s sense of foreboding, of possibility and of danger.
‘The day hot and strange and flattened, almost monochrome.’
Although in many ways Solomon was the most likeable and articulate of the characters, it was Aleks I felt most sympathy for. I could sense his loss: trying to provide for a family, lost between the Macedonian culture of his youth and the Australian culture of his adoption. Jimmy has even less of a clear identity, and sense of belonging, and this is going to erupt somewhere. Somehow.
At times I found the blend of poetry and prose dislocating: different languages, differing ways of communicating. But it worked well as a vehicle of telling the men’s stories and for grounding the hip-hop culture which unites them. This, for me, is a different way of exploring alienation and dispossession. One in which I am an outsider and have to work hard to understand. One in which I hope for positive new beginnings. This book is well worth reading.
Omar Musa is a Malaysian-Australian rapper and writer. He has released three albums, published two poetry books, and this is his first published novel.
‘No worries. I’ll be back.’
Jennifer Cameron-Smith
Thus begins Omar Musa’s novel. It’s written in a combination of poetry and prose, and examines the alienation, disempowerment and dislocation of three young men on the fringes of Australian urban society. The three young men, Solomon Amosa, a Samoan, his ‘beige’ coloured half-brother Jimmy and Solomon’s best friend Aleks Janeski, a Macedonian, attend a local greyhound race meeting. The men talk about dog racing (it will be the last race for a dog called Mercury Fire), about women, about hip-hop. Solomon, who went to a private school on a basketball scholarship is both the most personable and the most self-aware. Jimmy, who doesn’t know who his father is, doesn’t know where he belongs. Aleks, married with a small daughter, is trying to improve their situation. He does a bit of graffiti (‘graff’), but ends up in prison in association with drug trafficking.
‘This has always been a land of fire.’
So, what makes this story work? Does the poetry fracture the prose, or unify it? What forms will their individual struggles for identity take? And how does hip-hop work as a unifying force? There’s constant movement in this novel, the rhythm of the poetry, the beat of the music underscore the activity, and the environment itself is not passive. There’s sense of foreboding, of possibility and of danger.
‘The day hot and strange and flattened, almost monochrome.’
Although in many ways Solomon was the most likeable and articulate of the characters, it was Aleks I felt most sympathy for. I could sense his loss: trying to provide for a family, lost between the Macedonian culture of his youth and the Australian culture of his adoption. Jimmy has even less of a clear identity, and sense of belonging, and this is going to erupt somewhere. Somehow.
At times I found the blend of poetry and prose dislocating: different languages, differing ways of communicating. But it worked well as a vehicle of telling the men’s stories and for grounding the hip-hop culture which unites them. This, for me, is a different way of exploring alienation and dispossession. One in which I am an outsider and have to work hard to understand. One in which I hope for positive new beginnings. This book is well worth reading.
Omar Musa is a Malaysian-Australian rapper and writer. He has released three albums, published two poetry books, and this is his first published novel.
‘No worries. I’ll be back.’
Jennifer Cameron-Smith