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33 of 34 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A Stunningly Horrific War Story Told by a Child Soldier , December 12, 2005
A young boy named Strika pulls another young boy named Agu out of his hiding place and into the middle of a senseless civil war in an unnamed African country. Agu is dragged before the Commandant, the ruthless leader of a troop of soldiers, and given a choice: join or die on the spot. It is a devil's bargain, since the price of Agu's joining and saving his own life is to hack another person to death with a machete. "I am not a bad boy," Agu reasons to himself (in so many words) over the killing. "I am a soldier now, and soldiers kill, so I am only doing a soldier's job and not being a bad boy."
Uzodinma Iweala's stunning first novel tells the story of Agu's indoctrination into an adult world of civil warfare, a world of fear and hardship and stomach-churning violence. More significant, Agu enters a world of loss - separation and possibly death of his family, loss of his faith, and loss of his childlike (and sexual) innocence. If he survives the war, regardless of its outcome, he is clearly scarred for life psychologically as well as physically.
Two aspects of BEASTS OF NO NATION contribute to its narrative power. The first is Iweala's ability to convey a sense of blind irrationality. He gives us no sense of what country we are reading about, we have no idea who the competing factions are or what they are fighting for (or against) -- we don't even know into which side Agu has been conscripted. At the same time, Iweala offers no plan of attack, no pattern to the Commandant's movements, and no military objective being sought. The Commandant and his troop are little better than the scurrying ants to which Agu constantly refers, skittering about the countryside pillaging and destroying whatever they find and otherwise simply fighting the enemy and their hunger and fear to stay alive.
The second source of narrative power derives from the author's choice of narrator and narrative style. The entire story is rendered through Agu's eyes and voice. We see the civil war through a child's uncomprehending eyes and we are as confused about the issues and reasons for killing as he is. We hear the story in Agu's voice, a mixture of childlike innocence and a broken, pidgin English that makes us see events and feel emotions through a child's limited vocabulary and his struggles to articulate the utter senselessness of what he is witnessing. This language may grate for some or seem like a novelistic contrivance (after all, assuming Agu really thinks and speaks in his native tongue, why must we see it translated in such mangled English from a boy who appeared to be moderately well-educated?). It is also fraught with the writerly complication of having a semi-articulate narrator who somehow has enough command of the language to summon up words like camouflage, crater, masquerade, junction, verandah, catarrh, vomit, and insubordination.
In the end, despite the inhuman violence and sexual degradation he has experienced, Agu claims for himself the mantle of humanity. "I am having mother once," he asserts, "and she is loving me." This is a marvelous short novel and a deeply disturbing look at genocidal civil war through the eyes of one of its innocent young victims.
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41 of 51 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Harrowing but not Special, January 9, 2006
Titled after the classic Fela Kuti album, this debut novella from the son of Nigerian immigrants tackles the horror of child soldiers with mixed results. In an anonymous West African country torn apart by civil war, a young boy named Agu is dragged from his hiding place by rebels destroying a village and given the traditional choice: Join or die. In the harrowing scene, his initiation into the rebel forces involves killing a screaming man with a machete. In psychological self-protective logic rather unlikely for a young boy, he tells himself that since he is now a soldier, he is only doing his job by killing. Agu has no clue what the civil war is about or what constitutes an enemy, he is simply another weapon in the hands of the charismatic brutal leaders, pointed toward the enemy and told to kill. Of course, when humanity is degraded to the point children are forced into soldiering, the reasons why aren't really of any relevance, and Iweala is wise to avoid trying to explain the context for Agu's nightmare. Instead, the dislocation of his kidnapping is felt all the more, as his rebel unit wanders around, apparently aimlessly, often on the brink of starvation. Agu's experience is awful and certain scenes are moving, but it is somewhat lacking in drama or tension. There's a certain roteness to the story: gentle child (check), sexual abuse (check), flashbacks to better times (check), carnage (check), caring Western aid worker (check), triumph of the human spirit (check). Agu narrates his tale in a kind of pidgin English that will either enchant or enervate the reader -- I found it exceedingly tiresome, inconsistent, and artificial. It is tragic that child soldiers exist, however to truly move the reader, fiction has to work a little harder than this does. It's not a bad book, just not great, and not even the best novel about child soldiers this year. That would be either Johnny Mad Dog by the Congolese writer Emannuel Dongala or Moses, Citizen and Me by Delia Jarrett-Macauley, the daughter of Sierra Leonians. Another worth checking out is Peter Dickinson's 1990 Whitbread-winning novel, AK.
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17 of 21 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
a powerful, moving and disturbing tale, December 2, 2005
I am not sure how to write this review. I was profoundly affected by the book. I've tried to re-edit it to convey just how special and moving it is, and words fail me. Fortunately, they did not fail the author.
The author chose his words well, using them to convey the youth, innocence and intelligence of Agu. Each sentence is a gem.
The character in this book is a child who has gone through hell. I understand a little through the book about how and why he became a mercenary (or rebel soldier, which was he? and is it different?)
What makes a child kill for a cause he does not completely understand? This book answers both everything and nothing.
Maybe the answer is survival. Or, maybe it is in the words of Agu "I am also having mother once, and she is loving me."
What stikes me the most about this book is that Agu somehow keeps his true self alive, hidden in a part of himself.
The author does not tell us what Agu's future will be, but, I hope that with the love and education his parents have given him, he will do well. Yes, I know that he is only a character, but to me, he is real, and I worry about his future.
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