What do you think?
Rate this book
The Names of Things
The anthropologist's wife, an artist, didn't want to follow her husband to the remote desert of northeast Africa to live with camel-herding nomads. But wanting to be with him, she endured the trip, only to fall desperately ill years later with a disease that leaves her husband with more questions than answers. When the anthropologist discovers a deception that shatters his grief and guilt, he begins to reevaluate his love for his wife as well as his friendship with one of the nomads he studied. He returns to Africa to make sense of what happened, traveling into the far reaches of the Chalbi Desert, where he must sift through the layers of his memories and reconcile them with what he now knows. Set in a windswept wilderness menaced by hyenas and lions, The Names of Things weaves together the stories of an anthropologist's journey into the desert, his firsthand accounts of the nomads' death rituals, and his struggle to find the names of things for which no words exist. Anthropologist John Colman Wood's debut novel is an exquisite, haunting exploration of the meaning of love and the rituals of grief.
276 pages, Paperback
First published March 30, 2012
5 people are currently reading
506 people want to read
About the author
John Colman Wood
4 books13 followersJohn Colman Wood teaches at the University of North Carolina at Asheville. His field research with Gabra nomads of northern Kenya and southern Ethiopia has been funded by the Wenner-Gren Foundation, the National Geographic Society, and the Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology.
His fiction has appeared in Anthropology and Humanism, and he has twice won the Ethnographic Fiction Prize of the Society for Humanistic Anthropology, once for a story extracted from The Names of Things.
He is the author of When Men Are Women: Manhood among Gabra Nomads of East Africa (University of Wisconsin Press, 1999). Before becoming an anthropologist, Wood was a journalist.
His fiction has appeared in Anthropology and Humanism, and he has twice won the Ethnographic Fiction Prize of the Society for Humanistic Anthropology, once for a story extracted from The Names of Things.
He is the author of When Men Are Women: Manhood among Gabra Nomads of East Africa (University of Wisconsin Press, 1999). Before becoming an anthropologist, Wood was a journalist.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
May 11, 2012
I was almost an anthropologist. I majored in the subject in college, drawn to it by my own unusual childhood, which was spent traveling for years among different cultures than that of my birth. The fundamentals of anthropological field work resonated with me: always observing and learning, participating only at arm's length, yet somehow making usefulness out of the loneliness of never quite belonging. I found appealing this idea that somehow there was a special point to a liminal existence, that only one who was outside could adequately translate one culture for another. However, I didn't end up becoming an anthropologist. I fell in love and decided that I couldn't ask my husband to traipse through the wilderness with me. Not to mention that after having already spent years traipsing through the wilderness, I had adapted pretty well to the softness of belonging and having.
The unnamed narrator of The Names of Things had no such compunction. He brings his wife, a painter, with him to Africa, for his extended field work with the Dasse people, often disappearing off into the desert for weeks at a time. In his mind, she could paint anywhere, so her eventual objections to the locale are moot, especially as he has committed himself irrevocably at that point to the focus of his work. Finally they compromise and she takes up residence in a larger, more temperate community farther away from the Chalbi desert. That compromise, which seems at the time to save their marriage and his career, leads to an an accident and an illness that takes everything away.
This is a slow and thoughtful book, beautifully written. At first I was uncertain about the use of third-person narrative interspersed with first-person book and journal entries, until I realized that the format perfectly portrays the narrator's biggest quandary: he views life, even his own life, through the eyes of an anthropologist, always observing, explaining, and rationalizing what he sees and experiences, rather than directly experiencing the events themselves. When confronted by the greatest loss of his life, and a revelation that may or may not explain or undermine that loss, he struggles to know his own reaction, almost as if he were a stranger to himself, an observer lost in his own mind. He is confronted by grief that rituals do not heal, a mystery that reason cannot solve, and a journey that appears to have no purpose or ending other than one he invents for it.
This is an impressive novel, well informed by the experience of the author, an anthropologist himself and also a talented writer who reminded me of the wonderful Oliver La Farge. The book balances realistic ethnography with insightfulness, in particular, the extraordinary insight that so much of insight itself is colored by the one doing the seeing. Knowing the names of things does not allow one to know the things themselves.
I received an early review copy of this book.
The unnamed narrator of The Names of Things had no such compunction. He brings his wife, a painter, with him to Africa, for his extended field work with the Dasse people, often disappearing off into the desert for weeks at a time. In his mind, she could paint anywhere, so her eventual objections to the locale are moot, especially as he has committed himself irrevocably at that point to the focus of his work. Finally they compromise and she takes up residence in a larger, more temperate community farther away from the Chalbi desert. That compromise, which seems at the time to save their marriage and his career, leads to an an accident and an illness that takes everything away.
This is a slow and thoughtful book, beautifully written. At first I was uncertain about the use of third-person narrative interspersed with first-person book and journal entries, until I realized that the format perfectly portrays the narrator's biggest quandary: he views life, even his own life, through the eyes of an anthropologist, always observing, explaining, and rationalizing what he sees and experiences, rather than directly experiencing the events themselves. When confronted by the greatest loss of his life, and a revelation that may or may not explain or undermine that loss, he struggles to know his own reaction, almost as if he were a stranger to himself, an observer lost in his own mind. He is confronted by grief that rituals do not heal, a mystery that reason cannot solve, and a journey that appears to have no purpose or ending other than one he invents for it.
This is an impressive novel, well informed by the experience of the author, an anthropologist himself and also a talented writer who reminded me of the wonderful Oliver La Farge. The book balances realistic ethnography with insightfulness, in particular, the extraordinary insight that so much of insight itself is colored by the one doing the seeing. Knowing the names of things does not allow one to know the things themselves.
I received an early review copy of this book.
April 3, 2012
Wood weaves a wonderful tale here. The narrator, having once lived among nomads in Africa with his unwilling wife, returns after his wife has died of an unnamed illness. This current trip is wonderfully and evocatively described, but Wood subtly weaves in how the narrator's journey is more inside than external. He journeys through whether or not his wife may have cheated on him during their last trip, potentially resulting in the unnamed disease, as well as his entire relation to his wife and everything else. In the end, satisfactorily Wood presents more questions than answers and finds more in the journey than in any particular factual accuracy or resolution. The result is beautiful and haunting.
May 29, 2012
Well, what would I say?
May 1, 2012
An anthropologist goes on a pilgrimage across northeast Africa after the death of his wife, coming to terms with her loss and wondering whether he really even knew her at all.
It's interesting that I can't tell you the anthropologist's name, as I don't believe it is ever mentioned in the book. He is simply referred to as "he" and "him", or by the native word "ferenji" used for Westerners. Likewise his wife is simply referred to as "she".
This story is at once very simple, getting to the heart of the matter, without excessive flourish or glamor, and yet it is complex, winding around on itself. There isn't a great amount of dialogue in the book, as the majority of the story is self-discovery and the discovery of truth. All of his interaction in the story is with the Africans he encounters and stays with during his journey, and they are a simple and quiet people, not given to excessive chatting.
There are some interesting transitions between chapters where bits of the Dasse culture are revealed. The author writes of "rituals that surround death and dying", allowing a glimpse into Dasse society, and giving the reader a better understanding of these people that the anthropologist and his wife lived with and studied.
After his artist wife dies from an unnamed disease that sounds suspiciously like AIDS, the anthropologist begins to look through her journals and questions arise, causing him to embark on a trek back to the village of his friend Abudo, in hopes of finding answers.
My final word: This was an enjoyable read, and went fairly quickly. The author is very adept at bringing you into the story with lovely description that isn't overdone, and a writing style that can flow from verbose to rather clipped, the anthropologist varying from very logical reasoning that examines his own life with scientific precision to reflecting on beautifully sensitive and emotional moments with his wife in their life together. A lovely little story.
It's interesting that I can't tell you the anthropologist's name, as I don't believe it is ever mentioned in the book. He is simply referred to as "he" and "him", or by the native word "ferenji" used for Westerners. Likewise his wife is simply referred to as "she".
This story is at once very simple, getting to the heart of the matter, without excessive flourish or glamor, and yet it is complex, winding around on itself. There isn't a great amount of dialogue in the book, as the majority of the story is self-discovery and the discovery of truth. All of his interaction in the story is with the Africans he encounters and stays with during his journey, and they are a simple and quiet people, not given to excessive chatting.
There are some interesting transitions between chapters where bits of the Dasse culture are revealed. The author writes of "rituals that surround death and dying", allowing a glimpse into Dasse society, and giving the reader a better understanding of these people that the anthropologist and his wife lived with and studied.
After his artist wife dies from an unnamed disease that sounds suspiciously like AIDS, the anthropologist begins to look through her journals and questions arise, causing him to embark on a trek back to the village of his friend Abudo, in hopes of finding answers.
My final word: This was an enjoyable read, and went fairly quickly. The author is very adept at bringing you into the story with lovely description that isn't overdone, and a writing style that can flow from verbose to rather clipped, the anthropologist varying from very logical reasoning that examines his own life with scientific precision to reflecting on beautifully sensitive and emotional moments with his wife in their life together. A lovely little story.
April 19, 2012
Excellent book with very evocative images!
February 19, 2017
When a chance discovery challenges everything an anthropologist understands of his wife's lingering illness and death, he returns to the African plains where her affliction began. The journey is told through objective discourses on Dasse tribal mourning rituals contrasted with a narrative of the anthropologist's own thoughts and experiences.
This book left me thinking of John Banville's The Sea (Man Booker Prize 2005) because of the way the wording and cadence evoke a feeling of place, in this case the desert rather than the sea, and the sense of foreboding that overshadows the whole work. In both, the ending revelation is haunting in its finality.
I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.
This book left me thinking of John Banville's The Sea (Man Booker Prize 2005) because of the way the wording and cadence evoke a feeling of place, in this case the desert rather than the sea, and the sense of foreboding that overshadows the whole work. In both, the ending revelation is haunting in its finality.
I received this book for free through Goodreads First Reads.
August 26, 2012
The Names of Things by John Colman Wood
This is probably going to be one of the rare books that I read more than once. I do love anthropological studies, but this is much more than that. The author writes about the way he and his wife experience their marriage differently. It is said that when you lose a parent or partner for whom you felt no love, there is still grief, grief for what you wish had been. That is the main story I took away from this book. I found reading it a touching experience - beautifully expressed - beautifully written.
This is probably going to be one of the rare books that I read more than once. I do love anthropological studies, but this is much more than that. The author writes about the way he and his wife experience their marriage differently. It is said that when you lose a parent or partner for whom you felt no love, there is still grief, grief for what you wish had been. That is the main story I took away from this book. I found reading it a touching experience - beautifully expressed - beautifully written.
June 18, 2016
I had to change my rating from 4 to 5 stars after I finished this book, because it was a moving and haunting journey all the way to the last page. Wood is a truly gifted writer, able to create suspense and wonder out of seemingly quiet prose.
If you are sick of the hollow bestsellers, this is the cure. Beauty and substance to feed the soul.
If you are sick of the hollow bestsellers, this is the cure. Beauty and substance to feed the soul.
April 14, 2015
I have mixed feelings about this book. It was well written but I really wanted to know what happened to the anthropologist. Did he survive, did he walk away, where did his belongings go? Sigh, I guess some things, like the names of things, are just unknowable.
March 14, 2025
Not fully accurate. Well written.
Want to read
June 17, 2012The Names of Things, by John Colman Wood, tells the story of an unnamed anthropologist studying the nomadic Dasse people of the Chalbi Desert. In his field work, he observes the customs and rituals, as well as the normal day-to-day interactions, of the camel-herding Dasse. He is entranced by them, falling easily into their life. He builds a friendship with one of the nomadic men.
“You seized a bit of life, and life damaged you.”
The anthropologist’s wife, an artist, goes with him. She does not adjust, merely endures. She complains to him, but these go unheeded. He thinks that she can paint anywhere and shouldn't really mind the upheaval of her life. As he becomes more involved in his work, his wife slips further away from him. Eventually, she is lost entirely. The anthropologist must then sift through his grief and the deceptive past to find answers. He returns to the desert, the scene of the crime, to make sense of things.
“Death is a strange betrayal. The dead leave the living more certainly than if they’d run off with a lover.”
Told in alternating first-person and third-persons narration, the reader gets a multifaceted look into the anthropologist’s life. The third-persons drives home the notion that this man is an observer, even of his own life. He is an anthropologist through and through. Still, the overall tone is intimate and personal. We feel very close to this man. The anthropologists’ sorrows and desires become our own.
The desert wilderness comes to life as well. The people, animals, and scenery are wonderfully described. Dasse burial rituals are very detailed. The reader is fully drawn into this world.
“All I wanted was to sing and dance and share the delight and seriousness of that night, and my desire to do so, a desire which arose from the differences between us, my incapacity, my lack of understanding, was the very thing that held me back.”
This book is not a thrill ride, not an adventure. It is quiet and contemplative, lyrical and flowing. The story is deceptively simple: what seems like a meandering tale turns into a poignant and evocative look at love, loss, and grief.
[Also posted on Futuresfading. | Full disclosure: I won a copy of this book from Librarything Early Reviewers.]
“You seized a bit of life, and life damaged you.”
The anthropologist’s wife, an artist, goes with him. She does not adjust, merely endures. She complains to him, but these go unheeded. He thinks that she can paint anywhere and shouldn't really mind the upheaval of her life. As he becomes more involved in his work, his wife slips further away from him. Eventually, she is lost entirely. The anthropologist must then sift through his grief and the deceptive past to find answers. He returns to the desert, the scene of the crime, to make sense of things.
“Death is a strange betrayal. The dead leave the living more certainly than if they’d run off with a lover.”
Told in alternating first-person and third-persons narration, the reader gets a multifaceted look into the anthropologist’s life. The third-persons drives home the notion that this man is an observer, even of his own life. He is an anthropologist through and through. Still, the overall tone is intimate and personal. We feel very close to this man. The anthropologists’ sorrows and desires become our own.
The desert wilderness comes to life as well. The people, animals, and scenery are wonderfully described. Dasse burial rituals are very detailed. The reader is fully drawn into this world.
“All I wanted was to sing and dance and share the delight and seriousness of that night, and my desire to do so, a desire which arose from the differences between us, my incapacity, my lack of understanding, was the very thing that held me back.”
This book is not a thrill ride, not an adventure. It is quiet and contemplative, lyrical and flowing. The story is deceptively simple: what seems like a meandering tale turns into a poignant and evocative look at love, loss, and grief.
[Also posted on Futuresfading. | Full disclosure: I won a copy of this book from Librarything Early Reviewers.]
September 20, 2012
The Names of Things by John Colman Wood is the journey of an anthropologist through the grieving processes he documented among the Northeast African Dasse nomadic camps following the passing of his wife sometime later. Beautifully written in alternating time frames from the anthropologist’s past field work that helped him create two books on the nomadic lives of these people and their grieving rituals and the present when he returns to the African Chalbi Desert to cope with his wife’s passing. Wood also includes excerpts on the tribe’s grieving rituals throughout the book, which help to anchor the story in Africa, and help the reader learn how the tribe has named the unnameable — a task the anthropologist must learn.
The prose of this novel is hypnotic and carries the reader into the desert with these people as the anthropologist gains their favor and begins to feel at one with the community. Wood not only raises questions of an academic nature about the role of an anthropologist, but also whether his presence has polluted the natural dynamic of the community by introducing foreign ideas and culture into their community. But the presence of the anthropologist among this community also raises questions of how well he can integrate into the community and understand their rituals, feelings, and perspectives, especially since he always remains mostly an outsider to their customs and their grief.
Read the full review: http://savvyverseandwit.com/2012/09/t...
The prose of this novel is hypnotic and carries the reader into the desert with these people as the anthropologist gains their favor and begins to feel at one with the community. Wood not only raises questions of an academic nature about the role of an anthropologist, but also whether his presence has polluted the natural dynamic of the community by introducing foreign ideas and culture into their community. But the presence of the anthropologist among this community also raises questions of how well he can integrate into the community and understand their rituals, feelings, and perspectives, especially since he always remains mostly an outsider to their customs and their grief.
Read the full review: http://savvyverseandwit.com/2012/09/t...
January 21, 2021
Life, love, death, & betrayal; they are all in the Names Of Things.
The story jumps from a present day journey to memories of an anthropologist. He just lost his wife to disease, and took a trip back to the Dasse clan that he visited years ago. The names of the couple or the disease are never mentioned, which might keep you from connecting with them. But the story itself is interesting and captivating.
The story jumps from a present day journey to memories of an anthropologist. He just lost his wife to disease, and took a trip back to the Dasse clan that he visited years ago. The names of the couple or the disease are never mentioned, which might keep you from connecting with them. But the story itself is interesting and captivating.
April 10, 2014
It took a good few chapters, but I grew to love this book. It is bucolic, calm, soothing. Very few characters to keep up with and there are few details to allow the reader to feel that they know them, but this adds to the wide-open space feel of the book. The reader must use her/his imagination to appreciate the quiet and stillness. There is a lack of detail to most every aspect of the book, but that helps readers appreciate the nomadic life and begin to feel a part of it.
June 9, 2012
Wood takes us- so vividly- to a place most of us will never see, the Chalbi Desert. He tells a haunting story - a mystery really - that shares the inner and outer landscapes of a man (and a marriage)on a journey to understand the past and the relationships between what we do and don't (can never) know.
Want to read
June 11, 2012I need a category: To Read, Maybe.
The author was at my local bookstore on Sunday night. I even had a reminder email. And I'd planned to be there, but I didn't want to go back out into the night. After reading his bio here, I think it would have been an interesting evening. Still... sometimes the author visits are disappointing.
The author was at my local bookstore on Sunday night. I even had a reminder email. And I'd planned to be there, but I didn't want to go back out into the night. After reading his bio here, I think it would have been an interesting evening. Still... sometimes the author visits are disappointing.
September 1, 2014
This book is not for everyone but if you have been to Egypt it gives additional insight into the culture. Her descriptions are poetic and beautiful. If you like words and their meanings you will enjoy this book.
March 13, 2016
This book is slow and beautiful, full of not only narrative anthropology but gorgeous, understated, poignant observations on the nature of humans and relationships, set in a background that makes stark contrast an everpresent tool for reflection. A pleasurable surprise.
August 29, 2016
This is a beautiful novel about a man's journey through loss and grief. He writes from the perspective of an anthropologist as he revisits the African nomads he studied. It starts slow but builds beautifully.
November 3, 2013
Loved it. Beautiful story, beautifully written. Lovely imagery.
January 28, 2014
Beautifully written. I loved the beginning and ending of this novel. But, ultimately, descriptions of grief, landscape and death rituals were not enough to sustain my interest.
April 28, 2014
Fascinating story and beautifully written
September 1, 2014
I like the way the author interwove the story though sometimes his time line was confusing. He writes well; it definitely held my attention. The practices of the nomadic tribe were fascinating.
Want to read
March 20, 2015referred by Pat
August 9, 2015
This is a very good story and filled with information and insight about the work of anthropology and painting, as well as human relationships and spiritual mystery.
October 7, 2015
Mixed feelings. Some bits interesting some boring and what happens to him? Unsatisfactory.
Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews