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A review by ukpsymum
Gravel Heart by Abdulrazak Gurnah
4.0
This book ebbed like the sea. The first section, in which the author describes his childhood in Zanzibar, was riveting. Gurnah captures both what I imagine is the feel of the place, the political upheaval and his parents' and then family's lives with startling clarity. In this part, I could not get enough, and was propelled from each carefully chosen word to the next. I felt deeply for the little boy Salim as he described the confusing changes in his family and the impact they left on his heart and identity.
And then, as the confusion of his family settles into his being, Salim leaves home for England. This section of the book was harder for me. Although I was irritated and then enraged with Amir and his wife for their treatment of Salim, I felt a bit adrift in the context of Salim's life during this time and his subsequent years in the Southeast of England. I imagine this feeling may have paralleled what the author was trying to convey: Salim himself was adrift during this time. As a reader though, it was at times hard to stick with the story, and I found myself jumping around a bit in the book to keep myself engaged.
But when Salim returns to Zanzibar for a visit, the story again takes hold. Politics and social upheaval in the background, Salim's father fills in the gaps for Salim as to why his life shifted so suddenly when he was young. Gurnah's story telling likewise shifts. There is clarity, detail, a mounting story of pain that climaxes and then crumbles.
And there we are, characters adrift against history.
But, without ruining the ending, it is the last line of the book that stabbed at me. It was not the conclusion I'd expected. Reading Salim's father's story, I found myself furious with Amir and the wreckage of his selfishness. Perhaps the last line is about finding strength as a person, regardless of difficulty, but in reality such individual volition is not within the purveiw of many people. Salim's parents both acted from a place of love, but were torn by that love. Amir? Not so. And so it is with the governmental changes and the people driving them. As Gurnah chronicles, their mandates and motivating factors were often rarely for the people, but rather for themselves and their power. In that context, the last sentence felt to me to lay the blame at the feet of those affected by the greedy and selfish.
At the same time, I wondered, "or is Gurnah trying to point out that people can find some traction, some hope, some life, even in the context of shifting forces - who will be what they will be?"
I wonder how other readers felt about this.
And then, as the confusion of his family settles into his being, Salim leaves home for England. This section of the book was harder for me. Although I was irritated and then enraged with Amir and his wife for their treatment of Salim, I felt a bit adrift in the context of Salim's life during this time and his subsequent years in the Southeast of England. I imagine this feeling may have paralleled what the author was trying to convey: Salim himself was adrift during this time. As a reader though, it was at times hard to stick with the story, and I found myself jumping around a bit in the book to keep myself engaged.
But when Salim returns to Zanzibar for a visit, the story again takes hold. Politics and social upheaval in the background, Salim's father fills in the gaps for Salim as to why his life shifted so suddenly when he was young. Gurnah's story telling likewise shifts. There is clarity, detail, a mounting story of pain that climaxes and then crumbles.
And there we are, characters adrift against history.
But, without ruining the ending, it is the last line of the book that stabbed at me. It was not the conclusion I'd expected. Reading Salim's father's story, I found myself furious with Amir and the wreckage of his selfishness. Perhaps the last line is about finding strength as a person, regardless of difficulty, but in reality such individual volition is not within the purveiw of many people. Salim's parents both acted from a place of love, but were torn by that love. Amir? Not so. And so it is with the governmental changes and the people driving them. As Gurnah chronicles, their mandates and motivating factors were often rarely for the people, but rather for themselves and their power. In that context, the last sentence felt to me to lay the blame at the feet of those affected by the greedy and selfish.
At the same time, I wondered, "or is Gurnah trying to point out that people can find some traction, some hope, some life, even in the context of shifting forces - who will be what they will be?"
I wonder how other readers felt about this.