DNF | 1.75 ⭐️ | The author opens with an acknowledgment of a friend's critique of an earlier manuscript: that it went on and on about a lot of things. The friend advised him to pick a single core theme and dive deeper into it — advice the author claims to have taken to heart. He very much did not.
This book goes on and on about a lot of things. The immigration experience is supposed to be the heart of it, but it never gets explored with any real depth. Every so often there's a reflection on belonging or the threat of deportation — honestly the only parts of the whole narrative that matter — but they keep getting swallowed up by everything else. There are far too many characters to keep track of, all with indistinguishable voices and underdeveloped personalities. The writing is repetitive and tried so hard to be lyrical at the expense of clarity. Entire paragraphs describe scenes, stories, memories that have no connection to the chapter they appear in, adding nothing to the reader's understanding of it.
By the end I wasn't even sure if this was a good premise badly executed, because I couldn't tell what the premise was. If it was the experience of being ‘paperless’, that's a compelling subject in theory — but it's never clear what the book was actually trying to do with it. It would've been so much better to just stick with Luzuko's storyline, perhaps alongside one other character, rather than trying to stitch together the experiences of five or six loosely connected people in one big messy soup of everything.
The first manuscript went on and on about a lot of things — and so did the final one. Hardly surprising when it didn't have a clear direction to begin with.
A keenly observed debut, Paperless immerses us in the often-hidden lives of African immigrants in the heart of Oxford. Through the eyes of Luzuko Goba—a South African doctoral student, Siwisa explores identity, belonging and the ever-thorny question of “home” when visas expire and dreams stretch thin.
The prose is vivid and sharply observant: Oxford’s grand architecture alongside the three Oxfords: an Oxford primarily experienced by white students, a Black Oxford, and an Oxford for the "paperless" undocumented African immigrants. This is an entirely different and necessary rendition to counterbalance romanced dross like My Oxford Year. In contrast, the novel’s strength lies in how it highlights race, nationality, and immigration status.
At times I grappled with the many characters and multiple points of view and wished for some more empowered female characters. Ultimately, the novel highlighted a sense of displacement amidst incredible opportunity and the legacies of exile.
For anyone interested in migrant narratives, post-colonial fiction, or the underside of privilege in places like Oxford, this book resonates long after the last page.
An interesting book, looking at the life of an Oxford student, who is really looking for a sense of belonging. He seeks it, in what is familiar to him. In his fellow Oxford students, where they are gunning from the same thing, their doctorates, or in the familiarity of people from home despite having to hang out with illegal immigrants. The book is well written, with quite a few moving parts which come together nicely in the middle of the book. It talks to the plight of those seeking a brighter future and are willing to do that even through paperless.