Nuruddin Farah

An intriguing book, experimental in its way (something I generally do not enjoy), and quite well done. I kept running into positive reviews of this work so finally broke down and bought it. Barcena (born in Santander, Spain, in 1984) is apparently a highly regarded author in Spain. I have seen his work compared with that of Cormac McCarthy (I agree) and Joseph Conrad (maybe, but mostly not so much). The plot begins in 16th century Mexico when two “gentlemen” hire Juan de Toñanes—a retired and down-on-his-luck former conquistador—to find Juan the Indian, a highly charismatic, missionary-taught man said to be causing trouble for both the Spanish-run church and state. No one knows what Juan the Indian looks like, making the search that much more interesting. The book follows the search over hundreds of miles and hundreds of years. Along the way, there are conquistadors riding horses and migrants riding trains, long-suffering peasants waiting patiently for a better world, Mexican revolutionaries, and women searching for a better life who end up murdered in the desert. The journey ends—or perhaps begins—in the U.S., north of the Mexican border. I found the writing excellent (and the translation also seemed to be so) and overwhelming. Substantial description, stream-of-consciousness…a great deal of substance worthy of much thought regarding justice and hope and even the meaning of life. (You can find an excerpt on the website of the publisher, Three Percent.)… (més)

Seeking more exposure to real life outside my middle-aged, middle-ish class American bubble, I asked a fellow truckdriver about books to help me learn about "real life," in his home country of Somalia.

He told me about Somali writer Narrudin Farah, who became internationally famous for challenging his country's prevailing views on women, especially in his book, "From a Crooked Rib." "Rib," was not available to me on audio so I chose "Links."

This book is much slower-paced than I can usually bear; but I decided the pacing was an important element in the narrative itself, and stayed with it. The setting is 1990's war-torn Somalia, where simply moving about in public called for a lot of planning and caution (and protection, often in the form.of gun-toting children.) The characters' backstory and a central mystery (an abduction,) added even more suspicion and intrigue. The tension created by the slow narrative worked in my favor, so far as my experiment is empathy goes.

I suspect this book was written with western readers in mind. Long expository passages made for some unnatural dialogue - but was very helpful! I only half- remember the news reports regarding Somalia, and the US involvement there, in my twenties. This book (and a quick peek at the Wikipedia article on Somalia,) put those memories into context.

"Links," definitely fulfilled my objective of exploring the reality of life in this part of Africa. It also contributed to expanding my understanding that colonialism, and the dismantling of it, is much, much more complicated (and ruinous) than I understood.

Did I LIKE the book, you wonder? I had the same question when I finished it! Having thought about it a day or so, I would say, "yes."

I absolutely feel enriched by having read it. The writing (and fantastic audible narration,) kept me engaged once I adjusted to the pace. I thought the characters were mostly well-developed and complex, and I had a good handle on the protagonist's emotional journey. I do feel like I may have missed some cultural subtext or symbolic meaning relating to the children at the center of the story, but it didn't hinder the experience too much.

This book was neither plot-driven nor character-driven, and the themes as explored here are not easily grasped by my western mind. I think it will take time and effort to fully appreciate when Farah has to say, and I will endeavor to devote more of both to "Links."… (més)

My first book by Farah who, it appears, often (always?) writes about Somalia and the effect of its civil war on both those who have stayed and those who have left but later returned. The book is (intentionally) disorienting from the very beginning, reflecting the experience of the Somali protagonist who has been exiled to the US and is coming home for the first time in twenty years to visit his mother’s grave. The capital is divided into zones ruled by competing clan warlords and Farah’s gift is his ability to convey in fine detail the impact of this situation on those who live there and their daily struggle for survival. Farah never overtly philosophizes but is largely concerned with the issue of meting out justice—who has the right, who has the ability, and who can even say what it means—and the subject of responsibility. The story starts with our protagonist stepping off the plane and follows him through his decision to stay and involve himself in a search for two young girls who have vanished. Although the story never wavers (though it has tangents), it is rivetingly told and I look forward to reading my next book by him.… (més)