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A review by alangley
Stringer: A Reporter's Journey in the Congo by Anjan Sundaram
2.0
It's hard to describe how I feel about this book because it contains so many amazing and lackluster things. I dove into it with wild enthusiasm. Sundaram has a talent for detail that makes even the smallest moment stand out, as well as a sharp memory. His descriptions caught me immediately and pulled me into the world of Kinshasa. This continues throughout the book as he uses powerful imagery again and again to captivate the reader.
Yet those descriptions are the best part of the book. Sundaram has a volatile relationship with everyone around him. He struggles visibly with his own self-worth and looks to others to support him and help him feel worthwhile. I sympathize with him, but when the people around him act contrary to expectation (or even just look at him askance), he plunges into despair and dissociation. This happened time and again throughout the book, and by the middle i began to dislike him intensely.
Sundaram also struggles to recreate the people he met and worked with as memorable characters. With few exceptions, the characters in this book are very similar, and their traits can be interchanged without confusion. Sundaram classes his characters into type, often based on race or sex - "the Chinese" or "the girl" or "the domestic" - and then fails to look beyond those characteristics. He has a particularly fraught relationship with women, who are universally portrayed as sex objects or harridans.
I was excited about this book because it promised to provide me with a view into the Congo, a culture and country I don't know. The vision it provide was vivid and captivating, but was muddied by the author's personal views and issues, which spoiled the narrative for me entirely.
Yet those descriptions are the best part of the book. Sundaram has a volatile relationship with everyone around him. He struggles visibly with his own self-worth and looks to others to support him and help him feel worthwhile. I sympathize with him, but when the people around him act contrary to expectation (or even just look at him askance), he plunges into despair and dissociation. This happened time and again throughout the book, and by the middle i began to dislike him intensely.
Sundaram also struggles to recreate the people he met and worked with as memorable characters. With few exceptions, the characters in this book are very similar, and their traits can be interchanged without confusion. Sundaram classes his characters into type, often based on race or sex - "the Chinese" or "the girl" or "the domestic" - and then fails to look beyond those characteristics. He has a particularly fraught relationship with women, who are universally portrayed as sex objects or harridans.
I was excited about this book because it promised to provide me with a view into the Congo, a culture and country I don't know. The vision it provide was vivid and captivating, but was muddied by the author's personal views and issues, which spoiled the narrative for me entirely.