Literary Fiction by People of Color discussion
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Discussion: Say You're One of Them
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YES. YES. YES. I couldn't get through the first story, An Ex-mas Feast, when it appeared in The New Yorker last year, and I am struggling to read it now.
The brutal emotional accuracy of Ex-mas Feast is hard for me: I recognize (and, frankly, identify with) Maisha's life and family, even though I did not grow up a pre-teen prostitute in a Nairobi shantytown. The rendering of the mother in all her viciousness and ambivalence, cleverness and addiction, is too true to be denied: yet Akpan is brave to break with traditional renderings of African women and women of African descent in this way.
I cannot bear to look, yet cannot look away.


http://www.onpointradio.org/2008/07/u...
It's lengthy, but quite interesting. I noticed a number of good topics on that site; I'll have to go back and look more.
Don't forget - the discussion begins on Tuesday, September 1!

This comment from Mistinguettes in message 3 seems to me to be the perfect way to begin our discussion of Say You're One of Them by Uwem Akpan. Akpan tells truly painful stories set in several African countries from the point of view of children. Akpan states that he chose to write these stories after reading newspaper stories about African children in distress that would start with an introductory passage about a particular child, then go on to discuss the situation (wars, AIDS, etc.) in general, only returning to the child in the final paragraph. He wanted to stay focused on the child and tell the story from a child's perspective.
Do you think that this technique was successful? Did the child's point of view make such painful stories easier or harder to read for you?

the child point of view makes the stories incredibly lyrical. i love the way these kids are kids, even when their childhood has been robbed from them by brutal living conditions. i love books written in kids' voices but with deep content.
the painfulness of these stories is unbearable. i just finished (at 5 am this morning) "Fattening for Gabon" and i think i'll never forget it.





dunno how many people have read "Fattening for Gabon;" if you haven't read it but plan to, don't continue because there are spoilers ahead, but: in the scene in which the uncle goes crazy with grief and scares his niece and nephew with his nudity, we get some precious drops of life-affirming, good information. first, these two kids, as hard as they've had it, are innocent to sexual or other betrayal. they trust their uncle. they trust his love implicitly. they have been brought up in love. (the scenes in which they cuddle or laugh together are lovely and not few). this is why they are strong, generous, life-loving, joyous children. second: the uncle, even while in the process of betraying his kids for money, experiences such tremendous torture that he goes crazy. there's a strong moral fabric there. the uncle and the kids do live in great poverty, but their family ties and the strength of their moral lives sustain them in ways that are precious and valid. eventually, the uncle literally dies for the children he allegedly wanted to betray, and the boy, at least, is strong enough to leave (can you imagine his strength and resolve? those last pages made my heart race and, also, made me think, "i could not have done it").
i was telling the story to my husband and he said, "boy do we have it good." and, yes, we do. at the same time, though, we are broken in all sorts of ways. the rates of child neglect and child poverty in this country are abysmal. families don't manage to stay together and love each other enough -- and i'm talking about nuclear families, not even going anywhere near extended families. we suffer from depression and all sorts of awful malaise. we have high rates of suicide. i could continue.
these children are strong. we can learn something from their suffering -- maybe, among other things, to understand ours.
in other words, i know that the automatic response to the reading of these stories is, "how can i ever complain again when i have it so much better?" but i think this would be the very wrong reaction. pain comes in all sorts of stripes. some of us suffer more than these kids, even if we have food and shelter and all sorts of other conveniences and luxuries. all pain is real. this pain is just different, and we can embrace it with humility rather than feeling overwhelmed and cowed and, yes, embarrassed by it.
hope this makes sense. this is something i've been thinking about a lot and if it outrages you in any way i ask that you be kind. we can and i hope will have a conversation about this, but these are sensitive issues, so let's be considerate of each other, okay?


These children really are strong and intelligent. One of the things that kept me reading these stories was that these children were in terrible peril, but they were constantly thinking, trying to understand their situations and make the best of them. Often they come to erroneous conclusions, particularly about whom they should trust, but they are children, after all.
Reading "Fattening for Gabon", I kept thinking about the millions of African children who would have lived normal lives had AIDS not taken over the continent, leaving so many orphans. The phrase that kept coming to mind was the ancient saying, popularized by JFK, that having children was giving hostages to fate. We have to do better by the world's children. There is always hope when there is sufficient resolve.


Just finished "An Ex-Mas Feast" the introductory story to this collection and found it disturbing, heartbreaking, but fascinating. I'll reserve a full review when I complete the book, but I dare anyone to read it and not be moved by some of the images in this story.
As for Maisha, the idea of a twelve year old prostituting regardless of the circumstances is not A wise vocation. That said, she was the primary breadwinner in the family and they had to depend on her for food and other necessities; and snorting glue is not a substitute for a good meal. In addition, it was through her that Jigana was to receive his education.
Excellent story by another wonderful Nigerian writer. Looking forward to the others.
As for Maisha, the idea of a twelve year old prostituting regardless of the circumstances is not A wise vocation. That said, she was the primary breadwinner in the family and they had to depend on her for food and other necessities; and snorting glue is not a substitute for a good meal. In addition, it was through her that Jigana was to receive his education.
Excellent story by another wonderful Nigerian writer. Looking forward to the others.




For those who have read or are still reading this book, there's lots of good info on Oprah's website:
http://www.oprah.com/article/oprahsbo...

I am struck by Akpan's religious vocation, and the frame it provided for my reading of his stories. The Roman Catholic sacrament of reconciliation to one's community involves confessing the story of one's shame to one's self, to God, and to receive forgiveness from another living person. Reading Akpan's stories requires me to listen to shame-filled stories with compassion for my own suffering, and to offer forgivenss and compassion for the human weakness that causes suffering for the children whose stories he narrates. I am privileged and somehow redeemed by reading these stories, however slowly. Something about them brings me to my knees.



Bibliomantic, I think that the low number of posts was due to the overwhelming nature of the material for many readers. They just couldn't continue reading all the way through, even though the book was so beautifully done.



thanks


However, I was impressed by the fact that the pidgin of the dialogues did not clash with the non-pidgin narrative, and it is to Akpan's credit that he made them work well together.
One issue I do have with the collection. And that is, as I mentioned above, the abrupt ending of each of the stories/novellas. I felt a little cheated each time even though I technically couldn't find fault with any of them. Since each tale was concluded in like manner, there must have been an intent in that. I am still mulling over that, and I am starting to be ok with it, but I do wish Akpan gave us more substantial resolutions to each story. The closest to it that he got was with the final tale.
Books mentioned in this topic
Say You're One of Them (other topics)Say You're One of Them (other topics)
Authors mentioned in this topic
Uwem Akpan (other topics)Uwem Akpan (other topics)
Uwem Akpan (other topics)
Here's a little biographical information about next month's author:
Uwem Akpan was born in the village of Ikot Akpan Eda in southern Nigeria.
After studying philosophy and English at Creighton and Gonzaga universities, he studied theology for three years at the Catholic University of East Africa. He was ordained as a Jesuit priest in 2003 and received his MFA in creative writing from the University of Michigan in 2006. “My Parents’ Bedroom,” a story from his short story collection "Say You’re One of Them", was one of five short stories by African writers chosen as finalists for The Caine Prize for African Writing.
In 2007, Akpan began a teaching assignment at a Jesuit college in Harare, Zimbabwe.
Akpan’s stories are set in Rwanda, Nigeria, Benin, and Ethiopia and tell stories about children caught in horrible situations. Two of the stories in his first collection were published in The New Yorker.
Here's what last month's author had to say about this book:
“Uwem Akpan writes with a political fierceness and a humanity so full of compassion it might just change the world. His is a burning talent.”
– Chris Abani, author of GraceLand and The Virgin of Flames
And here's a link to a very strong review of the book by author Susan Straight:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/...