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A review by alivegurl
The Devil That Danced on the Water: A Daughter's Quest by Aminatta Forna
5.0
I didn't actually know anything about this book when I picked it up, but I recognised Aminatta Forna's name from another book I've been meaning to read. In hindsight, I feel I should've recognised her name far sooner through a different story. All I know is that this book tells the story of her memoir—of what and why, exactly, I had no clue. I prefer not to read the synopsis of a book upon buying it—and, most of the time, I pick up the right ones. Upon reading the preface/acknowledgement, I realised that the story is about her father, although still unclear in what respect.
The book starts out quite vaguely and goes on like that for two chapters—at the end of which, I was sure it would be a tearjerker—but starts again from the top in the third chapter. It starts with her father's past, her family's background (being told almost in a mythical way) and her older siblings' childhood, mixed with recollections of her own and a future reaction/statements of her relatives and friends. It is a story both personal and detached, collecting as much information as well as emotions to form a well-rounded picture, or at least attempt to. This effect perhaps comes from Ms. Forna's background in journalism but perhaps also from the twenty-five years of distance she allowed herself before diving into this subject matter.
The writing is very prosaic, in a way that makes you feel like you're transported straight to Sierra Leone to experience it all—sometimes I look up from the book to realise exactly where I am—though devoid of all the dramatisation such stories tend to have. Although hard to admit, I didn't actually know where or what Sierra Leone was before this book, but now I know a whole lot more than most people. While the story is focused on her father, as a memoir, it obviously cannot escape from the author's own point-of-view, which oftentimes is separated at long distance from her father—especially because she was a small child when most of it happened. This allows the readers to see other aspects of life for the Forna family as well as life for people in Sierra Leone. It dives into the matter of race, of class, of economy and of tribes. It gives a surprising glimpse of what it looks like to be a half-white African child or a white woman married to an African man, both in the UK and in Africa itself—and how it may differ significantly in Sierra Leone and in Nigeria.
Another thing I noticed is the similarities between the politics in Sierra Leone and my own country, Indonesia—possibly because both being the target of colonialism and developing countries. They both have a pivotal political moment in the '60s and the '90s. In the '60s the former government was replaced with a new regime, which quickly turned into a dictatorship of some kind. In the '90s this regime produced a riot of protesters—claiming to fight for change, although taking victims from fellow little people themselves. Is it possible that this was the result of colonialism? Perhaps it's because the local government only ever saw dictatorship and violence—as usually performed by the western invaders—be used as tools to lead a country? Is it possible that is the only way they knew how to govern?
If you want to pick up this book looking for answers, I would suggest you put it back down, because those are mostly not included in the book—only because they were not found in the author's real life as well. From the start the ending was written in scarlet letters, but I found myself wishing for a different outcome anyway—as did the author, probably. This book was published over a decade ago. Sierra Leone could be a whole lot different today. But it's still curious, why is this horrifying part of history has never made it into the mainstream media—or at least not so much that people would talk about it for decades, despite never lived there at all? At least, now I know about it.
The book starts out quite vaguely and goes on like that for two chapters—at the end of which, I was sure it would be a tearjerker—but starts again from the top in the third chapter. It starts with her father's past, her family's background (being told almost in a mythical way) and her older siblings' childhood, mixed with recollections of her own and a future reaction/statements of her relatives and friends. It is a story both personal and detached, collecting as much information as well as emotions to form a well-rounded picture, or at least attempt to. This effect perhaps comes from Ms. Forna's background in journalism but perhaps also from the twenty-five years of distance she allowed herself before diving into this subject matter.
The writing is very prosaic, in a way that makes you feel like you're transported straight to Sierra Leone to experience it all—sometimes I look up from the book to realise exactly where I am—though devoid of all the dramatisation such stories tend to have. Although hard to admit, I didn't actually know where or what Sierra Leone was before this book, but now I know a whole lot more than most people. While the story is focused on her father, as a memoir, it obviously cannot escape from the author's own point-of-view, which oftentimes is separated at long distance from her father—especially because she was a small child when most of it happened. This allows the readers to see other aspects of life for the Forna family as well as life for people in Sierra Leone. It dives into the matter of race, of class, of economy and of tribes. It gives a surprising glimpse of what it looks like to be a half-white African child or a white woman married to an African man, both in the UK and in Africa itself—and how it may differ significantly in Sierra Leone and in Nigeria.
Another thing I noticed is the similarities between the politics in Sierra Leone and my own country, Indonesia—possibly because both being the target of colonialism and developing countries. They both have a pivotal political moment in the '60s and the '90s. In the '60s the former government was replaced with a new regime, which quickly turned into a dictatorship of some kind. In the '90s this regime produced a riot of protesters—claiming to fight for change, although taking victims from fellow little people themselves. Is it possible that this was the result of colonialism? Perhaps it's because the local government only ever saw dictatorship and violence—as usually performed by the western invaders—be used as tools to lead a country? Is it possible that is the only way they knew how to govern?
If you want to pick up this book looking for answers, I would suggest you put it back down, because those are mostly not included in the book—only because they were not found in the author's real life as well. From the start the ending was written in scarlet letters, but I found myself wishing for a different outcome anyway—as did the author, probably. This book was published over a decade ago. Sierra Leone could be a whole lot different today. But it's still curious, why is this horrifying part of history has never made it into the mainstream media—or at least not so much that people would talk about it for decades, despite never lived there at all? At least, now I know about it.