Hello there, Book-Clubbers!
Jane invited me to join ages ago and I actually finished this book about three months ago and was waiting for someone else to post so as not to look like a loser, but my memory of the book is starting to fade so I shall forge ahead blindly. Fortunately I made some badly-worded notations in my diary to refresh my memory.
So. God Grew Tired of Us by John Bul Dau. I did not enjoy this book. To be fair, I have an aggressive distaste for non-fiction (particularly memoirs), encouraged by years of tedious encounters with badly written "true stories" and autobiographies. My lack of enjoyment, however, does not suggest that the story therein was not remarkable and moving. Far from it. The simple fact that I got through a non-fiction book is testament to the power of the narrative.
This book made me painfully aware of my complete lack of knowledge regarding foreign affairs, particularly in Africa. I admit I knew nothing about Sudan. That is, zero. Knew nothing about Sudanese politics, economics, history... anything... except that there was some serious strife going on and lots of hungry people. And I knew there were lots of Sudanees refugees in Australia and America- but had no comprehension of the absolutely overwhelming number of displaced persons. So yeah, I was shamefully ignorant of the civil war and resulting conditions in Sudan.
I was moved by the sheer scale of the evacuation from Southern Sudan. The story is very brave. John Bul Dau was very frank, which is quite profound considering the history of personal suffering he is retelling. The level of suffering was quite beyond my capacity to comprehend- being so utterly removed from anything I have ever experienced. However, it was the story itself, and the strength and determination of the author, which I found moving- and not the way it was written. Memoirs and autobiographies are often written by people who are not writers, or have only just begun writing. Thus, I often find the language stilted, stale and uninventive. I did find that to be the case with this story, making the reading experience tedious at times.
I dislike the standard memoir P.O.V, which is usually first peron, past tense. Sentences are often begun with, "I remember when we..." or, "Sometimes we would...". I find this focalisation distracting and alienating. I think immediacy in tense creates a better connection with the reader and allows for greater emotional investment in the narrative. I also think specifity in events is important. I want a specific image created for me. The book often gave accounts of a typical routine the lost boys had, say, week to week in the Kakuma Camp. Phrases like, "We usually ate around this time..." and "We usually did so-and-so in the morning" do nothing for me. I want descriptive, specific, immediate contact with detailed moments and characters, because that will make me connect, invest, relate and empathise. I find this to be a massive issue with non-fiction.
People think that a true story can not be descriptively or imaginatively told because it is "factual". This is a tragic assumption. I dislike the binary opposition between fiction and non-fiction anyway (but that is a whole other argument). Basically, I found the lack of interesting, original or skilled narrative practice in this book to be a real shame. I think this story needs to be told, and the author certainly felt so too. But I'm not necessarily convinced that a written memoir is the best vehicle, particular for someone that is not a writer. I am interested to see the documentary of the same name, as I think film is often a more visceral, immediate and thus more appropriate medium for memoir.
Italics and recounts = YUCK. Hated all that stuff. Gripes about the style of writing aside, I was massively educated. Politically and culturally I found it quite challenging. I struggled a bit with the christian (good) vs muslim (bad) binary that was going on, and found the pro-war on terror stuff interesting. Annoyed to be once again reading a book from the perspective of a man in a christian, patriarchal society where women have no voice. What happened to the Lost Girls? Probably too horrific to print. I know this was not the story he was telling, but still. Where are all those lost women?
All the stuff about September 11 was a little unsettling. I found the political agenda of the book a bit unclear. There is a passage towards the end where he discusses Southern Sudan and America being allies against the Middle East. I am a bit tired of the god/war/religion/revenge angle, and wish there was a bit more of the tolerance/acceptance/communication/relationship-building angle happening. But then. I haven't suffered in a civil war. So I guess that kind of dwarfs my argument into insignificance.
The name-dropping and thank you list at the end were annoying. It was just a recount of everyone that helped him and famous people who gave him money, which was nice I guess, but I found it pointless. I think mentioning them in the story is thank you enough. And I got sick of the christian propaganda about how amazing the church was and how awesome and kind and inclusive and helpful and accepting the christians were and blah blah blah. Ok. We get the point.
Interesting. Educating. But didn't enjoy it. I'll hire the doco and get back to you.
-Rabbit
