Book Review: Search Sweet Country
Kojo Laing
McSweeney's
Books, 2011
Review by Debrah
Lechner
First
impression: I found this 1986 classic novel of life in the city of Accra in
Ghana is a physically beautiful book, satisfying to hold, a volume to treasure
in a discerning library, and the material presence of this book alone awakened
my curiosity, my desire to read.
Second
impression: the preface intimidated me. Binyavanga Wainaina does good job of
orienting the reader to the background of the book, both in terms of the
political climate at the time and Laing's literary sensibility, but he also
takes on the role of Laing's personal gargoyle, writing in a tone that is passionate
and protective, but unfortunately also found somewhat forbidding and defensive.
Wainaina quotes
three important reviewers, all of whom were very positive about the book:
"Panicked
critics, constrained by newspaper word counts, by epistemological confusion, by
the usual third world head fogs, searched for catchphrases…"
If important
reviewers, all reacting favorably to Search
Sweet Country, incur Wainaina's wrath for their lack of understanding
Laing's work, what chance do I have?
I certainly
don't have the qualifications to compare Laing's work to Joyce or Dickens.
So predictably,
like other reviewers, I panicked. I rechecked the meaning of "epistemological,"
and decided that if you agree with the definition as "the foundation,
scope and validity of knowledge," then sure, I was prone to confusion
about that. In fact, epistemological confusion might be the foundation of all
my problems. Immediately my usual third world head fog expanded, giving me a savage
headache, and I put the book down.
Third
impression: on a table at one end of a certain room, the book is looking at me.
Somewhere near the ceiling at the other end of this room, Binyavanga Wainaina
is also eyeballing me.
This may have
taken epistemological confusion into the realm of an actual psychological
disorder, but eventually I picked up the book, if only to resolve the tension
in the room.
Fourth
impression: Search Sweet Country is
nothing less than the psychological portrait of a country told through its
citizens, and Laing's ambition surely would have been to have portrayed each of
every one of them if it had been possible: this is the impression created by
this large cast of characters. Each such portrait in Search Sweet Country is memorable, intriguing, in search of their
own dreams; yes, very often comedic (sorry, Wainaina.) Laing's style is rich, wry,
complex, vivid, delicious. It is often delightfully surprising, because Laing
can pull off characterizations and descriptions that almost anyone else would
fumble. Above all, it is tender. I can imagine the author waking up every day,
observing the people of Accra, and finding each one a new incarnation of his
beloved city and country, and falling in love all over again.
It is like a
long, cold drink of water in a hot, dry day to read such work after consuming
so much prose aimed at an 8th grade reading level. There's no need
to mark a page in Search Sweet Country
to quote. They are all amazing. So, opening at random, there is this passage:
The
tail of the church rat bisecting the middle of the pews made the largest cross;
the same tail gathered shadows, sudden shafts of light, and all other linear
things, and dragged them in rodent holiness towards the circular altar. God's
Word crawled.
Or this one:
Kojo
Okay Small was the optimist, was the monkey that believed he could climb down
his own tail in any emergency. His slanting eyebrows were two little steps of
doubt leading up to a bewildered frown. His height suddenly ended up crowded at
his hunched shoulders, with his neck and head almost irrelevant, until he
smiled teeth shut yet with such light that his whole upper body glowed. This
happened even when there was a fly on his shoulder.
Don't fear
potential head fog of any type in approaching this acclaimed novel. Just dive
in, float through it, and let the world that it creates wash over you. Take
your time. This kind of experience in reading is rare.