Product Description Eleven-year-old Harrison Opoku, the second best runner in Year 7, races through his new life in England with his personalised trainers - the Adidas stripes drawn on with marker pen - blissfully unaware of the very real threat around him. Newly-arrived from Ghana with his mother and older sister Lydia, Harri absorbs the many strange elements of city life, from the bewildering array of Haribo sweets, to the frightening, fascinating gang of older boys from his school. But his life is changed forever when one of his friends is murdered. As the victim's nearly new football boots hang in tribute on railings behind fluorescent tape and a police appeal draws only silence, Harri decides to act, unwittingly endangering the fragile web his mother has spun around her family to keep them safe. About the Author Stephen Kelman was born in Luton in 1976. After finishing his degree he worked variously as a warehouse operative, a careworker, and in marketing and local government administration. He decided to pursue his writing seriously in 2005, and has completed several feature screenplays since then. Pigeon English is his first novel; he is currently working on his second.
Man Booker Prize 2011 shortlisted and a much hyped book about a few months in the life of a Ghanaian boy living on a council estate in the world of the gang and knife culture oft reported in the tabloids. Similar to 'Room', the author writes the book from the viewpoint and mind of the main child character. OK read, but lacking in authentic feel, despite the writer growing up on a council estate (projects), in my opinion. 6 out of 12, Three Star read. 2012 read
2.5 "well intentioned but sloppy and repetitive" stars !!
I am a bit surprised that this was a Booker prize nominee for 2011.
An 11 year old refugee from Ghana moves to a poor neighbourhood in London UK and lives his life with his mother and sister while Dad and baby sister remain in Ghana.
He and his friends come upon a crime scene where an older teen boy is stabbed to death and the remainder of the book very loosely and sloppily becomes a bit of a comedic drama about his thinking processes, amateur sleuthing and his world views. This young boy is a fast runner, full of mischief, sweet, imaginative and very funny. This story is somewhat interesting but often repetitive and too loosey goosey.
He also internalizes a city pigeon to become his totem animal and protector.
Asweh, asweh that with more editing and re-writes that this could have been a very fine novel about African refugee experience but for now was simply a fairly entertaining and creative story about the life of a poor boy living in the London slums.
Asweh, I spent hell of donkey hours reading this, got ants in my pant getting through the pigeon parts (hutious! Made me go red-eyes proper), wore out my bo-stylez trainers (Diadoras) walking back and forth laughing full stop and getting all stomachy over the mad crazy adventures of Harri and his sister Chlamydia. For real. Advise yourself!!! Totally fine good book, better than X-Men, innit.
(but for realz for real, a very impressive first novel by Stephen Kelman. Pigeon English's obvious (to me) point of comparison would be Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog In the Night Time, but only on the surface. (For what it's worth, I think this is a little better than Curious Incident, which I liked just fine). For our narrator is the eleven year old, Year Seven student, and recent Ghana émigré Harri Opoku, a good natured kid who just wants to fit in with his friends in one of the impoverished slums of London. He keeps busy playing crazy made-up games with his chums (like Suicide Bomber, Zombie, and one that involves throwing rocks at buses for hella points) barely staying out of trouble, and kinda half-way dreaming of being able to front with the local bad-ass gang. From the get-go, though, Harri and his friends nearly witness one of their classmates get chooked (stabbed) to death outside of Chicken Joe's restaurant. Their mission (when not messing around playing Suicide Bomber, Zombie, or bugging the crap out of their sisters) is to solve the murder mystery and get reward money.)
Harri's voice, totally annoying and nearly undecipherable at first, sticks to a cadence that ultimately becomes infectious and totally believable (despite its pidgin-y qualities) as the novel exposes its gritty street-life realities. (it helps to realize, as Mr. Kelman reveals in the end Acknowledgements, that the story is based on a real-life kid growing up in the projects.
I really enjoyed this book. Despite the gritty backdrop, the gutter-England-English and the intense subject matter, there were many genuinely funny lines, and it nearly always rang true. I share though the prevailing opinion of many of my fellow Goodreads critics that Mr. Kelman makes a BIG misstep by interspersing the thoughts of a pigeon (!) along with Harri's narrative, trying too hard to give extra dual-meaninged significance to the title (and draw allusion, maybe, to Jonathan Livingston Seagull). Lose the pigeon- (not pidgin-) speak, and this book is terrific. Bo-stylez, even).
Yesterday I bought a book. It was called Pigeon English. It only cost 50p from the cancer shop. I don't think it has cancer though. I bought it because the cover was bo-styles. There was also a bit about an award.
BOOK COVER: 'Shortlisted for the Man Booker Award 2011'.
I read it right after I bought it. It was on the train. The train takes one hour and twenty minutes to get to Waterloo. And then I was on the bus. And then another bus. And all the time I read this book. It was pretty good. It was all about a kid named Harri. Harri lives in the council towers in London. He is from Ghana. He moved to England with his mother and his sister Lydia. His father, his grandma and the baby stayed behind.
In England Harri makes a lot of friends. I liked them. I wish the book was about them. He also has a pigeon. He rescued it, and then he sees it all the time. Sometimes the pigeon talks to him.
PIGEON: 'I see you Harri!' (he only says this in Harri's head.)
The letters are all slanted on these bits. We learned at school they are called 'italics'. I think maybe they come from Italy. These bits are stupid. Everyone agrees. It's like the pigeon is a guardian angel, or a messenger from God. Asweh, it's the craziest thing you ever saw!
The rest of the book is Harri talking. Except the name on the cover is Stephen Kelman, not Harrison Opuku. So I think it might be fake. Or maybe he's using a different name to hide from the killers. They do that on detective shows. Sometimes, it doesn't work. The killers find them anyway, and kill them. There's a dead boy in this story. Harri and his friend Dean are trying to find out who killed him. They do proper detective work and everything.
Anyway, not much goes on in this book. The cover letters say it's about important things, but it's not. It's just kind of the story of Harri's life. Then on the last page something hutious happens. But then it's the last page. Until then it's just about this boy. It's strange. It's actually kind of like a film I saw once. There was this kid, and he also lived in the tower blocks. But it was in Brazil. And he was a good kid, but he knew all the killers. Just like Harri. Only he was older. It was called 'City Of God' or something. So if you liked that, read this book.
The writing is also weird. It's all jumbled, and the sentences are short. It makes you go red-eyes and want to throw the book out the window at first. Then it starts working. It really drags you in then. It's like the person writing can't write. Except he can. The pigeon bits are full of big words that make no sense. They look pretty though, all big and full of letters.
WHAT I LEARNED FROM READING 'PIGEON ENGLISH' - You can be shortlisted for the Man Booker even if your book is not about important stuff, and kind of just about a kid's life. As long as he is poor. Or lives in a council block. Or both. - Some people can make bad writing work. - It's never a good idea to try and write as a pigeon. - Also don't make the pigeon a messenger for God. - Supporting characters make books better. Especially if they are good.
I give this book 3.5 out of 5 stars.
I see him now, writing his book review, convinced his opinion has any bearing on the great scheme of things. You all amuse me. You try so hard to have a say, and for what? In the end, your lifetimes will be spurious wisps of cloud in the Boss's everlasting sky. I beat my wings and fly away. I have a kid in London I need to go shit on.
This book is about a kid from a Ghanian family living on a rough council estate in London and his experiences after seeing a murdered child. It's told in a very authentic voice, the writing very emotive - the bullies hurt me, the murder worried me, I felt for the family still at home in Africa and I hoped he'd get through, still the same go-for-it, full-off-life kid. There was one irritating note which was that there was a pigeon whose voice could only be 'heard' by the reader. It really spoiled it. The ending was sad and strange and explained the device of the pigeon but, in my opinion anyway, the book would have been improved without it.
To sum up, it's really an interesting book and a tear-jerker strangely, for one so politically relevant. But a warning - it might annoy some American readers with a lot of unfamiliar words and different accents. These words are also unfamiliar to a lot of British people not living in that area but there are so many accents and dialects in the UK - English is a less homogenous language than in the US maybe - that it doesn't really annoy anyone. The book is especially recommended to those who haven't forgotten the way the police and judiciary treated the murder of Damilola Taylor, whom this book is obviously about, may the little boy RIP.
A novel with a very strong message yet the telling is very soft, innocent and sweet. It’s like listening to the flapping of the wings of a butterfly: the sound it creates is almost inaudible yet its impact can cross oceans. This novel was one of the 5 shortlisted novels for Booker 2011 but in the final deliberation lost to Julian Barnes’ The Sense of an Ending. But in my humble opinion, this is better. Probably the reason why it went to Barnes was: this is Stephen Kelman’s first novel while Julian Barnes has already been shortlisted twice but lost. In 2005, his Arthur and George lost to John Banville’s The Sea and in 1998, England, England lost to Ian Mc Ewan’s Amsterdam. But don’t get me wrong: I also like The Sense of an Ending (4.0 stars) but I think Pigeon English is better (4.5 stars). It's just that there is no half-point here in Goodreads.
Or maybe what made this novel more significant for me was the fact that while reading I thought of the struggles of many Filipino children who were brought by their parents overseas. From familiar and friendly surroundings, these children were uprooted and transplanted in a foreign, usually harsh, soil. New surroundings, culture and friends. I did not experience this myself but two of my siblings – when they were young adults – went to live in North America to try their luck. I heard bits and pieces of their adventures, victories and frustrations. Mostly frustrations and disillusions. I could not imagine had they’ve been children. I would have been more difficult.
That is the situation of Harrison “Harri” Opoku, the 11-y/o Ghanaian boy who goes to live in a housing settlement in London together with his mother and elder sister, Lydia. Due to poverty, they have to leave Ghana where his father, grandmother and a newborn baby, Agnes remain. One day, Harri sees a dead body of a classmate who has been murdered. He and his friend, Dean, decide to find out who the killer is because of the gift prizes that will be given to anybody who can provide clue to the killing.
Harri is the first person narrator for most parts except for those that are spoken by the pigeon that visits him on their flat located on the 9th floor. While I admired the purity and ebullience of Harri’s narration, I was amazed on how Kelman handled the parts of the narrative by the pigeon especially those with open and close quotes. Kelman’s approach is fresh and inventive, playful and spontaneous. The pigeon has its own voice that provides contrast to that of Harri’s.
The ending is unexpected. My jaw literally dropped reading the last page. I was a bit bored reading the childish antics of Harri and was about to get tired of the pidgin English (that’s one way to interpret the title of the book) with Ghanaian-English words like asweh (I swear), hutious (scary), Gowayou (Go away), bo-styles, choke, etc. However, Kelman managed to keep the plot interesting by slowly revealing the identity of the killer and peppering it with the usual coming-of-age experiences of a boy like sexual awakening and the sentimentality of first love. Think of an extended version of the child Frank McCourt in Angela’s Ashes minus the infected eyes and the stinking river or an older version of the little boy in Emma Donoghue’s 2010 Booker shortlisted Room minus the escape scene.
Overall, a memorable read. Kelman is an author to watch. I was only confused for a while because there is also another Kelman: James Kelman, the author of How Late It Was How Late and Kieron Smith boy. I also read and liked the later but still I think this book is better. I am looking forward to this book’s inclusion to the 2012 edition of 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. This deserves to be there.
No, actually that's not true. Harri's repetitious, boring style grates very quickly and I thought to begin with that the voice in italics would be a bit of relief. Which just goes to show that I'm not much good at thinking. The voice in italics turned out to be a pigeon. Come on. In the words of Big John McEnroe - you cannot be serious.
Plot so thin as to be utterly transparent, two narrative voices that are properly vexing, this doesn't have an awful lot going for it. It's a pity, as the story of Damilola Taylor needs to be told.
Asweh, it was very funny reading this book. But it was also very sad. It took donkey years for me to get through the first half of the book; the pidgin-Londonese sounded dey touch to me. And the story was heavy in my hands.
But 11-year-old Harri Opoku from Ghana grew on me, and I gradually learned the lingo. In a violent, gritty council estate, Harri struggles to get through the days, trying to solve the murder of a boy with his best friend, Dean; everybody is afraid to speak to the police, and the police, I sense, are afraid of going into the area. In the midst of this toxic environment (which made me wonder why they would leave Ghana in the first place; under the false assumption that a Western country is always better than an African one?) Harri is an endearing and unfailing optimist with a wonderful sense of humour and delightfully ungrammatical English. He is a dope-fine narrator with Diadora trainers from the local charity shop that make him look bo-styles and enable him to race across a playground strewn with syringes.
Some have criticized the insertion of a real pigeon into the story which Harri communes with and which speaks now and then from outside of Harri’s narrative, or hovers above Harri, with a critical voice and with a strange kind of insight. On the one hand, it seems unnecessary in a novel that already tells an unambiguous and necessary story*, but on the other, one could (as I chose) see the pigeon as an symbol of Harri’s fragile hope, as his belief in a kind of guardian angel in an environment where you need all the luck you can get to make it to adulthood.
The book has been compared to The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, though what the two books mainly share, in my opinion, is a child narrator whose tone is different from more mainstream narrators. I was reminded more of The Catcher in the Rye, whose narrator, Holden Caulfield, is also left to his own devices, lost in an environment which can neither contain nor protect him. Holden, too, speaks his own (1950’s) lingo full of clichés, which can grate a bit when he says ‘phony’ or ‘it killed me’ for the umpteenth time, and perhaps for this reason some readers have failed to see how compassionate and fragile he is. Likewise Harri. And both novels .
Advise yourself, and do not go lightly into this read. It is authentic and original and touching but also a bit exhausting.
*(The novel was heavily influenced by the real killing of a 10-year old boy in a south London council estate in 2000).
Harrison Opoku, an 11-year-old boy whose family have recently arrived in England from his native Ghana, is the narrator of this sad and funny hybrid of a coming-of-age tale and and a murder mystery. At the beginning of the book, a boy Harri vaguely knows is stabbed and killed, and he and his friend Dean set out to catch the murderer. Their mission forms the backdrop for Harri's lengthy observations on life in England: the social hierarchy of his school, a first crush on classmate Poppy, home life with his mum and sister in a London tower block, and his terror and admiration of a local gang - the Dell Farm Crew - who rule the surrounding estate. The title has a dual meaning - it refers to Harri's 'pidgin' English, peppered with schoolboy slang and misunderstood words, but also to the pigeon who visits Harri on his balcony, a creature he sees as his friend. The pigeon also serves as a second narrator, in brief interjections which add an intriguing (if ultimately disappointing) edge, suggesting that the bird is somehow watching over and protecting Harri.
Harri is a beguiling and very funny narrator, and Kelman has done a brilliant job of creating an entertaining narrative voice that's also thoroughly believable as that of an 11-year-old boy. I was quite surprised to learn that Kelman is white and British, though not at all surprised that he apparently grew up poor. The book practically exudes a particular kind of masochistic working-class nostalgia, and the setting and its details jump off the page. The story captures perfectly the wonders of childhood and innocence, even in such a bleak environment, in a way that made me remarkably nostalgic for my own schooldays. It's by turns endearing and scary in its depiction of how quickly the children of today are forced (and expected?) to grow up.
The problem with authentic-sounding child narrators is that, after a while, they become exhausting and a little annoying (just as you'd get fed up if you had to listen to a child telling the equivalent of a 300-page story, complete with random and irrelevant diversions). I did find Harri tremendously engaging as a character, and laughed out loud at his observations - especially about school - and misinterpretations on a frequent basis. But I thought the story would have been so much better if a variety of viewpoints had been used: if, as well as Harri, we'd been able to hear from his mother, some of the older gang members, Lydia and Miquita, one of the teachers, the police, even the murdered boy. The contributions we hear from 'the piegon' are very well-crafted, so Kelman obviously has the ability to pull this off. There are so many fascinating characters in the book, all of whom undoubtedly would be able to cast a very different light on its events, and it seems a shame to confine the narration to one young character. Harri's naivety and optimism is an effective filter for the brutal circumstances that surround him, but this only works up to a point before it limits the story and becomes quite frustrating. I kept thinking of Simon Lelic's Rupture, which used multiple narrators to explore the issues surrounding a similarly shocking event - a school shooting - with far more effective results.
The ending is also problematic. Without giving away what happens, it's very blunt, unsatisfying and somewhat anticlimactic following the gradual building of tension throughout the prior chapters. I can understand why the author chose to end the book like this, but I felt cheated more than shocked (and I presume the latter was the intended reaction). I also felt the central mystery, initially introduced as the linchpin of the plot, was never satisfactorily resolved and the abrupt change of direction felt like the author was dodging the responsibility of having to deal with this.
In the end, this is a beautifully crafted and convincing narrative which unfortunately feels incomplete without another voice, another perspective, or a properly conclusive ending. Kelman has done enough here that I am pretty certain I will be interested in his future work, but Pigeon English feels like exactly what it is: the debut novel of a young author. I can understand why some complained about this (among others) being on the Booker Prize shortlist, because honestly, it's not on that level at all - although the author may be, someday.
There are three aspects to this debut novel that are probably going to make or break the average reader's reaction to it. The first is that it is largely plotless -- instead it follows an 11-year-old immigrant from Ghana as he makes his way around the impoverished London estate new home. The second is that it is narrated in his broken, or "pidgin" English. And the third is that at the start and end of some chapters, it also features some first-pigeon narration from, well, a pigeon.
Personally, while I tend to prefer plot-driven fiction, I can live with minimal or no plot if there is something to connect with. And in this book, 11-year-old Harrison (aka "Harri") Opoku is such a lovable, naive, child that I couldn't help but connect with his irrepressible spirit. Like Harri, moved from Africa to an alien first-world country at around age 10-11, and found it to be a similarly bewildering and hostile place. Others may find Harri to be too precious or unbelievably innocent, but I fell for him hook, line, and sinker. And to be fair, the book is not entirely plotless, there is a murder mystery to propel things, along with a minor romantic subplot.
I tend to really like writing that has a distinctive sound, from the thick Scots of Irvine Welsh's work to the Edwardian slang of P.G. Wodehouse to the Nadsat Anthony Burgess concocted for A Clockwork Orange. I found the Ghanaian-inflected English that peppers the book's description and dialogue (my favorite is the admonishment "advise yourself!") to be neither overwhelming, nor labored. It appears in just the right dosages and just the right times, and carries enough nuance to remind the reader of Harri's outsider status.
I will admit that much as I liked this book, that the bits involving the pigeon just didn't work at all for me. About a third of the way in I just starting skipping the pigeon's narrative portions (which is easily done as they appear in italics). It feels like a strained gimmick, and the only justification I can think of is that the author was attempting to invoke the classic English novel A Kestrel for a Knave.
Ultimately, the book fits securely into that mode of storytelling that uses immigrant eyes and voices to reveal the flaws of their host society. In that sense, it functions as effective critique of contemporary Britain, one clearly drawn from the author's own background and experiences. Some of these themes and setting are similar to Peter Akinti's recent book Forest Gate, albeit with a very different tone. I am not at all surprised to see that the BBC has commissioned a script from the book and a screen adaptation appears likely.
.....and the reason this has been nominated for the Mann Booker award is??????
A good concept gone totally wrong.....
I have to say that I have never been a fan of a child narrator. I think it takes an especially gifted author to speak authentically as a child unless that author is a child himself.
I didn't care for the absolute jumpiness of the story, written as though the narrator was on something and in somewhat hyper text pieces that were interjected. The characters did not appeal to me and although I am sure Mr. Kelman tried to make them real, they just seemed like a cutout of the typical middle schooler of today. The gist of the story seems to get lost quite a bit as the kids name call, use the word hutious ad infiitum and adore the usage of four letter words. I realize that these elements are like rites of passage for young people these days, but it just did not ring true nor endear the characters to this reader.
..and so why the sort list for this book is my question? As a former teacher of adolescents, I honestly believe my former students would have done a better job telling this story.
I should probably write a long detailed review of this book; it really deserves it. But I am not the most articulate person and I don't feel I could give it it's due praise in words that would convey how I felt about it.
I should have known that reading a book in a language other than my own would be difficult; I speak American Southern English and this is written in London slang English. Yes, I got most of it but much of it was truly a foreign language. I still don't know what "hutious" means and if I never hear "innit" in real life, that will be okay with me. Here's the thing about this book; after a while I didn't care about the language, the story had me completely wrapped up. Harri was such a little charmer, so innocent and unaware of the very violent surroundings he and his family were living in. The little stories he would tell about his Dad, Grandma and little sister back in Ghana were so sweet. Told against the real life stuff he and his older sister were dealing with living in the projects of London, these experiences were as different as night and day.
I really hated the end. That's why I can't give it five stars. It really pissed me off but I think that was the author's intention. The story ends abruptly and in a way that completely surprised me. So much so that I reread the last chapter a few times to make sure I had gotten it right. I had, and it sucked.
Told from the perspective of Harri, an eleven year old who recently moved from Ghana to an inner city council estate, this novel perfectly depicts the horrifying reality of gangs and knife-crime in London. When a boy is murdered outside a fast food restaurant, Harri and his CSI-obsessed friend Dean take it upon themselves to investigate the crime themselves. However in an estate which is run by the Dell Farm Crew and where the police can't be trusted, Harri's innocent investigations lead him into dangerous territory with devastating consequences.
This book fascinated me, not just because of the realistic portrayal of gangs but also because of Harri's descriptions of his day-to-day life and how radically different his life in the UK is in comparison to his old life in Ghana. Kelman did a stellar job setting up the differences between Harri's culture (especially when describing his mother's beliefs that he picked up and his father's situation back in Ghana) and the culture he is plunged into while in London, where most of his friends are also from different countries and are going through similar things as Harri. London is now a complete cultural melting pot and Kelman perfectly depicted this, with humourous and sometimes shocking consequences. It is Harri's wide-eyed innocence that makes this book so endearing and a riveting, fascinating read. Harri is definitley one of the best and most authentic narrators I have read for a while. He is intelligent, loveable, always funny and has a great way of observing his surroundings that create, even if his language is simplistic and sometimes misused, a perfect picture in your mind. I have read a few reviews that have said people were initially put off by the fact that book was narrated by an eleven year old.... but trust me, Harri will win you over. There are some real laugh-out-loud moments, especially when he is talking to his friends at school and his sister, Lydia. Considering every time I turn the news on, there is a new report of a gang killing (not just in London), 'Pigeon English' was a frighteningly real portrayal of urban crime and the innocent people who get caught in the crossfire.
Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman is the story of a young boy, newly arrived from Ghana with his mother and older sister, making his way through the mean streets of London. Eleven year old Harrison Opatu is filled with gusto-for life, for language, for experiences of all kinds. He is filled with the magic of childhood. His relationship with his sister Lydia feels real and authentic. His mother is trying her best to support her children as a nurse while keeping them safe and instilling good values in a world full of violence.
Harrison finds the dead body of a friend-knifings are increasing in this neighborhood. He and his friends decide to use all the knowledge they have gained from television and shared misunderstandings to solve the case.
The book is filled with energy-explosively light and dark by turns as Harrison struggles his way through the school year mixing childhood play with adult struggles that he cannot begin to really understand.
I was not fond of the conceit of the pigeon (the title is a play on the immigrant dialect as well as the observing pigeon-friend of Harri's) who gives a more removed (I refuse to write "bird's-eye") view of Harri's world. And I found that the book began strong but became repetitive in tone by the last third. As much as I loved Harri (and he is what I loved best about the story), about 2/3 of the way through I began to wish that this rather short book was a little shorter. I also felt that the story was a little bit of a screen to educate the reader on the effect of poverty and violence on children and their families which weakened the overall power of the book.
But I very much enjoyed this book, even with these flaws. I would recommend it to anyone over the age of 15 who is drawn to child narrators who are forced too soon to precariously balance naivete and worldliness.
If it were possible to give this book zero stars, I would. Although the premise behind it is interesting and novel enough- looking at the troubled marginalized youth in London's inner city from their own perspective - the execution was atrocious. I can't recall the last time I skipped through so many pages of a book. The idea of the eleven year old as narrator works for the first few pages. Then, as 'yout speak' does, it just starts to grate on you. What I found ironic was that the book received such praise for being 'a realistic portrayal' .....of who or what I thought. While I don't doubt that Kelman did his research, I still believe both he and those writing in praise of the book, give him far more credit than he deserves. I felt no more empathy for these kids with nicknames like Killa and X-Fire than I did before reading the book. Kelman also misses the mark with the main character. There are times when Harri says things that are completely out of character for an 11 year old- at times he sounds like the grown man writing the story or like a 5 year old child who's endearing but whose train of thoughts is all over the place. The narrative sounded too often like an adult trying to imitate a child. I also think the book's ending and link to certain social issues made it seem far more important and interesting than it was. Some readers said they found the book disturbing but then what? Being disturbed by an issue doesn't propel us to action so rather than show us something we don't already know, Kelman is yet another observer of what David Cameron et al term 'broken Britain' My verdict- Great concept, poor execution.
Има немалки достойнства тази книга. Води се от гледната точка на 11-годишно имигрантче от Гана в беден ландонски кварта, чийто глас звучи много автентично. Личи си, че авторът е извършил сериозни проучвания – за Гана, за незаконната имиграция, за младежите в лондонските гета, жаргона им, ако щете и детската психика. Всичко това е чудесно, само че ми беше скучно. А мислите на гълъба – кратки, за щастие, привнесоха в текста щипка претенциозност. Преводът трябва да е бил доста труден с този младежки уличен жаргон и broken English, но преводачката Бистра Андреева и редакторката Надя Радулова са се справили чудесно.
U rangu sa Hadonovim Neobičnim događajem sa psom u noći, samo lošije napisano i konstruisano.
Manjkava knjiga ( sudeći po komentarima stranaca na račun naracije imam skoro osećaj da je prevod na srpski previše dobar).
Hari je izbeglica iz Gane koji je utočište, sa majkom i starijom sestrom našao u getu Londona. Kada dečaka kojeg on i njegovi drugari znaju iz prolaza pronalaze ubijenog, dečaci odlučuju da sami sprovedu istragu. Coming of age priča u murder mystery formatu.
Za razliku od mnogih, nisam našla knjigu nepodnošljivom ili toliko bezvrednom. Ali fali joj toliko toga, ravna je, bez konstrukcije i beskrvna. Prenosi jaku poruku, ali nije dovoljno snažno napisana da je prenese.
Kraj je možda i najsnažniji deo knjige. Hari je simpatičan protagonista, neubičajeno naivna duša koja je otrgnuta od svega što je znala i koja se bori sa okruženjem koje prevazilazi njegova iskustva.
Prepare to fall in love. Harrison Opuku bursts off the page and into the reader’s heart. Harri is eleven, a recent immigrant from Ghana. He is now living in England with his mother and sister; his father, grandmother and baby sister left behind until the family can afford for them to come also. Living in the projects, Harri is amazed at all the new things he sees. The subway is an amazing item that he can’t quite believe work. He thinks it is bo-styles; the word for the ultimate cool. He is thrilled by remote control cars, cell phones, and new trainers. Harri’s best skill is his running; no one can catch him when he runs. He is the kind of boy who is open to all experiences, taking them in and finding the good in everything around him. Harri tends to like everyone; even the pigeons who flock around the housing projects, occasionally getting inside. Where others see a mess that should be cleared away, Harri sees a friend.
But not everything is positive in Harri’s world. Gangs abound, and as a newcomer, he is tested for inclusion. Daily life is full of insults and casual violence, and Harri is sometimes tempted by these acts. Worst of all, a boy who is the star of the basketball court, is murdered on the streets. The motive? No one knows for sure, maybe even just for his dinner. Harri and his friend Dean decide that they will find the killer. Full of facts gained from CSI shows, they attempt to lift fingerprints and find DNA, sure that they can find the culprit and bring him to justice.
Stephen Kelman has created a character that readers will not soon forget. The language is spot-on for a child growing up in modern England in the housing projects. The language is sometimes rough, and the facts that are commonplace knowledge breathtaking, but through it all, the sweetness of Harri’s personality shines through. Kelman himself grew up in the housing projects of England and worked as a careworker, a warehouse operative, in marketing and in local government administration before focusing on writing. Pigeon English has been nominated for the Booker Prize and readers will not be surprised by that fact. This is a stunning, excellent book; the fact that it is a debut novel is almost unimaginable. This book is recommended for all readers.
There is a frightening irony about this story by Stephan Kelman; the reader finds herself willing the narrator, a recent immigrant, to return to the peace and security of his African village and so escape the jungle of a modern British housing estate. Kelman doesn't pull any punches as he describes, through the eyes of this eleven year old Ghanaian, the dangers which beset the young and the old, the handicapped and the marginalised in the the modern urban ghetto, a grim underworld where senseless knifings have become everyday topics of conversation, even among young children. This story needs to be told and Kelman does it well. Harri Opoku's voice is a compelling one, swinging easily between innocence and experience. There have been other popular 'hindered' narrators in recent fiction, eg, Mark Haddon's fifteen year old autistic boy or John Boyne's nine year old Boy in the Striped Pyjamas and it is certainly a huge challenge for a writer to create an accurate rendering of a child's thoughts. Kelman succeeds most of the time and the 'pidgin' patois with which Harri's speech is sprinkled helps to make the his voice ring true. The pigeon's voice worked less well.
Sometimes I like to read books nobody is talking about so I can champion them and find them new readers. And sometimes I just want to read the book everybody else is talking about. Pigeon English was one of those books. It’s the story of 11 year old Harrison Opuku, an immigrant from Ghana living in a London housing project. It’s a first person narrative and I had the distinct sense I was watching the world through Harri’s eyes. He has very clear ideas about the world and how it works, though of course being a young person and being an immigrant, some of the things he feels sure of are not quite right. It was a charming story but wrapped around the edgy subjects of gangs and violence. The overall affect was of being immersed in the life of an innocent boy, while retaining my own view of the dangerousness of the world. The tension was great. And on top of it all, I loved the slang. For Harri things that are cool are called “bo-styles,” frightening things are “hutious” and if something’s going to take a long time it’s going to be “donkey hours.” I loved it and recommend it for adults and teens alike.
A book that is more about a way of being and thinking than about a story. The book is written in tiny bits and pieces switching from topic every few pages, matching the way of thought of the 11 year old main character. Because of this it didn't really bother me that the book has no real story. The writing style I found original, but I was a bit disturbed by all the violence the kids seemed to think to be normal everyday practice. Some parts were funny, but I wasn't touched. It also didn't seem like the boy telling the story had to adapt much to fit in the city world after his move from Ghana, which the book is advertised to be about.
I like Man Booker books. I like reading them. But every once in a while, I can't help but think some of them are just overrated.
My mood usually affects my overall liking of the book I'm currently reading and I was in a pretty down mood when I was reading Pigeon English. But to be honest, I don't think my thoughts would differ even if I was in my most cheery self.
I'm sure Mr. Kelman has created some loveable characters but sadly, I could feel no sympathy towards any of them. Yes, even Harri.
I don't want to sound coldhearted, yes, the story is a sad one. And the ending is even sadder. But that didn't really help me to enjoy reading this book. At all.
I hate it when a book lacks spirit. And this book didn't have any for me, it misses that certain spark that makes you enjoy reading.
I hated the slangs, I hated the random ranting. And if it wasn't an e-book, I think I would just throw it across the room every time I read "Asweh" and "Advise yourself". I contented myself with grunting, instead.
Just wondering what Stephen Kelman; a white 40something man born in Luton knows about being an 11 year old immigrant boy from Ghana? I also can’t find anywhere where he’s written an explanation as to why he felt he had the authority to write from this perspective, he said his research consisted of “watching the news and reading the press” which is highly evident from the way he writes his black characters (all in gangs btw).
No nuance or subtlety which is a real shame because the concept and the storyline is very interesting, engaging and heartbreaking. But loses all credibility for me by being written by a white man. Language used was very 2011 as well and was pretty dated and jarring.
Also, I never thought I would need to say this but don’t ever write from the perspective of a pigeon, and try to make it sound prophetic and other-worldly. I’m taking off a star for this alone.
this was a tender, beautifully told story. written in the voice of eleven year old Harri, recently arrived in London with his mum and sister from Ghana. His father, grandmother and baby sister Agnes stay behind until the family can afford to be reunited. Shortlisted for the Booker Prize, this coming of age [combined with murder mystery] grabbed me by the heart with urban London slang, ‘pidgin’ English. It was a bo-styles story. Harri was an utterly lovable character that I’ll not soon forget.
This is the first book I read from the longlist for the 2011 Man Booker Prize.
I really enjoyed this. Harri, the eleven-year-old protagonist, is a (possibly illegal) immigrant from Ghana, living in the projects in London. The book is full of a mixture of slang and beliefs from Ghana and his new community. Like most children, he doesn't fully understand what is going on around him, and has no grasp of the danger and violence he is surrounded by. I think that makes the story more compelling than it would be if the author hit me over the head with it.
Oh, it was good! I laughed out loud a lot. But it was sad. :( I totally wasn't prepared for the ending, though I knew it had to be kind of abrupt considering how the book was structured. This is one of the books where I thought it'd be really serious and literary and grimdark, and actually it's just very ... cute. With dark currents, of course, and sad serious stuff, but the main character is so cute and good-hearted. Ohhhhh I am sad about the ending now :(((
What a beautiful book. Sad and heartbreaking though. Told in first person by an 11 year old immigrant from Ghana living in council housing in London. His whole environment is ominous and yet he sees beauty and things to love everywhere. He is telling his feelings and experiences to a Pigeon he has “adopted”. The Pigeon might be his guardian angel. Not sure.
Although I'm known to hate on characters with annoying speech patterns (looking at you, The Cacther in the Rye and Everything is Illuminated), this book is incredibly important and the narrator's innocence only makes the situations and issues of the novel more poignant.
(реално 2 точки, "става", допълнителната е за българското издание) Увлекателна е, прочетох я от начало до край вчера. Леко тъжна, леко генерално депресираща без почти никакъв светъл контрапункт. Тегав разказ за мъже, патриархат и токсичност, в който жените са малко и жертви. За мен неубедителна в някои основни неща. Например, стори ми се, че детето говори и мисли като по-малко от седми клас (после прочетох, че май трябва да е на 11 години, пък аз си представях по-скоро 14). Също така, останах с впечатление, че цялото семейство ползва английски много добре* - и като цяло много бързо и много адекватно се е адаптирало към новата си среда в рамките на едва 2 месеца? - без авторът да ни обясни каква им е всъщност историята преди и след Гана. Изобщо задавам си въпроса защо трябва бял англичанин да пише от името на чернокожо дете имигрант от Гана? Като изключим поръсените тук-там думи и изрази на някой от ганайските езици и обясненията на някои английски думи, които, предполага се, Хари тепърва научава (доколкото прочетох в някои ревюта на английския оригинал, част от тези думи звучат още по-неубедително в оригинал в устата на дете), не разбрах какво пречеше той да е бедно бяло родено в Англия дете. Седи ми малко като упражнение по стил или по творческо писане, което в 21-век не е точно добър тон. Неубедително ми беше и сексуалното упражнение на каката с детето, благодарение на което авторът ми се представи като класически ограничен cis мъж, според който сексът се свежда до PiV.) Не бих я препрочела, не бих я препоръчала... Супер превод на Бистра Андреева. При това пише, че ѝ е бил първият пълен художествен текст. На моменти се смях на глас. Можеше да е още по-разговорно, разните контрахирани форми да са повече и по-последователни като изписване, но - като се застраховам, че говоря, без да съм чела оригинала, други коментари или забележки нямам. (В скоби - запитах се как е било "цинга-манга" на английски :) и също дали "компасът", с който едното момче боде съучениците си не е всъщност "пергел")
*Тъпо, но късно осъзнах, че английският е официален език в Гана. Значи английският е обяснен, но не и бързата и доста успешна интеграция, а backstory изобщо липсва.