A Trying to meet all your book preview and review needs.
to e-mail us: support the site |
Dreams in a Time of War general information | review summaries | our review | links | about the author
- Return to top of the page -
Our Assessment:
B+ : nicely done See our review for fuller assessment.
From the Reviews: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review:
Dreams in a Time of War is described as A Childhood Memoir, and part of its considerable appeal is the childhood perspective that
Ngũgĩ maintains for the most part: realistically, much of the adult (and larger political) world remains distant and not well understood.
Nevertheless, political and social upheaval have an effect even on the child's life, and
Ngũgĩ's portrait is also an effective one of this era -- 'a time of war' that first saw many locals sent to fight in the colonial power's conflict (World War II) and then an escalating civil conflict that resulted in the Mau Mau uprising.
Ngũgĩ's ambit remains a very tightly circumscribed one -- the first time he even just gets on a train is near the end of his account, when he is in his late teens and sets off to a nearby school.
This is a memoir of rural Kenyan life, with, for example, the metropolis of Nairobi as distant as any spot on earth and yet it offers a great deal of insight into life in Kenya in the 1940s and 1950s.
at every hearing it was a case of the legal written word against oral testimony. Orality and tradition lost to literacy and modernity. A title deed no matter how it was gotten trumped oral deeds.Ngũgĩ's father did win "a non-inheritable right of life occupancy", but that wasn't nearly the same as ownership. Such disenfranchisement is a repeated theme in the book, notably also when British soldiers were given land by the colonial masters, in thanks for their service during the Second World War -- while the Kenyan's who had also served got nothing, or in fact lost their land. For Ngũgĩ's father livestock was "the only real measure of wealth", and when his goats and cows all succumbed to a disease he was wiped out: "The man who had everything had now lost all". He didn't take it well, and this also led to Ngũgĩ's mother leaving him and his abuse, the large extended family reduced to a very small nuclear one for Ngũgĩ. Young Ngũgĩ longed to go to school, but barely dared imagine that he could. Even when he was nearly ten: School was way beyond me, something for those older than I or those who came from a wealthy family. I never thought about it as a possibility for me.Illiteracy was still widespread, and few in Ngũgĩ's family could read. When his mother asked young Ngũgĩ whether he wanted to go to school he could barely believe it. He understood that it was an enormous sacrifice, and that he would face hardships, but he promised -- and took his promise very seriously -- that: I would always try my best whatever the hardship, whatever the barrier.Good results pleased his mother, but she remained concerned that he was, indeed, always trying his best, a lesson he never forgot. From the kinds of schools he attended to the police actions that increased as he grew older, outside events and the changing situation in Kenya also affected the course of his life. This was a time where to be found even just in possession of a bullet was a death sentence, and where masked stool pigeons (to hide their faces) sat next to the police, informing on who was an opponent of the government from among the young men rounded up and paraded past them. Ngũgĩ was young enough, and focussed on his studies enough, to avoid being pulled into much of this, but other family members were in the thick of things. And: The state of emergency had acquired the dimensions of a huge mysterious creature, ever growing as it trod menacingly toward us. [...] The creature became the instrument of what was now official colonial policy, the dislocation of thousands.Along the way, Ngũgĩ also went through the circumcision ritual that marked his passage to manhood, a traditional ritual that had been watered down by colonial influence so that it: "no longer played the political, economic, and legal role in the community that it once did", but which he still felt strongly about. Nevertheless: Though the whole ritual of becoming a man leaves a deep impression on me, I emerge from it convinced more deeply that, for our times, education and learning, not a mark on the flesh, are the way to empower men and women.The power of imagination is also well-conveyed in this memoir. Ngũgĩ became an avid reader -- and while eager to "write stories like [Robert Louis] Stevenson's" he was convinced that to do so one needed a license (obtainable only after further study), certain that if one had the audacity to write "without such permission, one would surely be arrested". Among the best evocations of the power of story-telling comes in Ngũgĩ's descriptions of listening to an account of the trial of Jomo Kenyatta: a vast oral performance narrated and directed by Mzee Ngandi with the ease and authority of an eyewitness.Dreams in a Time of War seems to present only a very limited slice of Kenyan life, a rural childhood with little direct exposure to much of modernity, and yet it offers a very rich and evocative picture that illuminates a great deal more. Ngũgĩ charmingly relates small scenes of everyday childhood life, and also conveys a great deal of often grave injustice; remarkably, he does so almost entirely without bitterness. Recommended. - M.A.Orthofer, 2 April 2010 - Return to top of the page - Dreams in a Time of War:
- Return to top of the page - Kenyan author (James) Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o was born in 1938. - Return to top of the page -
© 2010-2021 the complete review
|