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Portrait of an Island on Fire
A deeply moving and revelatory reading experience, the essays collected in Portrait of an Island on Fire form a searing account of Mauritius at a crucial moment in its history. Unceasing in its critiques of racist, patriarchal abuses of power, in its unpicking of the ills at the core of contemporary Mauritian society and their roots, the collection is a milestone in thinking about the lasting social and political effects of colonialism and how they play out at the level of government policy, the handling of environmental issues, in schools, in hospitals, in families, in language. For all its well-placed anger, Ariel Saramandi's sparklingly intelligent and intimate debut is full of love and momentum – a push for a better future for Mauritius and, by extension, for the world.
- GenresNonfictionAfrica
328 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 19, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
May 15, 2025
I knew nothing about Mauritius before I picked up this book, and, having read it, I now have a bit more of a sense of this complex and multi-layered society facing a number of significant issues, from climate change to misogyny. The first half or so consists of a series of previously published conceptual essays about a plethora of issues, including abortion rights, racism and colourism engrained into the power structures of Mauritius and the tension between suffering the effects of climate change and building a tourism based economy. The essays offered a perfect blend of personal anecdotes and structural analysis, providing a nuanced portrait of the island (on fire). Ariel Saramandi is very open about her privilege as a light-skinned white passing woman with a British citizenship from a wealthy family, and her comments on the socially conservative figures trying to use her privilege to undermine her progressive stance are illuminating.
The second half of the collection, written, as far as I understand, specifically for this book, changes both in style and content. It offers a chronicle of political developments of Mauritius by following the life and career of the enigmatic Bruneau Laurette, a champion of Creole/Black rights and simultaneously a socially conservative promoter of toxic masculinity and anti-vax narratives. In this story, Ariel the narrator is not a mere observer in the way she constructs her authorial voice in the shorter essays - she is an active participant in the events and an adversary of Laurette. The second half reads like one of those histories of the (English) Civil Wars or the Russian Revolution written immediately after the events by some of the key players. I could imagine myself as a historian researching the subject decades down the line and reading the essay as a narrative primary source. It is fascinating as a document, but not entirely convincing as a piece of narrative non-fiction. Narrative non-fiction still requires mastery of structure and character development, the ability to make the key players distinctly recognisable to the reader, and I am not sure that this longer essay worked well on the craft level. It fails to make a complex narrative accessible to non-specialist, as it keeps introducing new players, be they individuals or organisations, out of the blue without much setup. I wasn't sure if it was meant to be read by Mauritians, who would know who these people are, or foreigners, who don't. In either case, the essay would have benefitted from more analysis and less narrative, because presumably the Mauritian readers would know most of this narrative anyway, and outsiders may find it too confusing and difficult to follow.
Overall, I loved the shorter, more analytical essays, and found the narrative one fascinating but not very engaging.
The second half of the collection, written, as far as I understand, specifically for this book, changes both in style and content. It offers a chronicle of political developments of Mauritius by following the life and career of the enigmatic Bruneau Laurette, a champion of Creole/Black rights and simultaneously a socially conservative promoter of toxic masculinity and anti-vax narratives. In this story, Ariel the narrator is not a mere observer in the way she constructs her authorial voice in the shorter essays - she is an active participant in the events and an adversary of Laurette. The second half reads like one of those histories of the (English) Civil Wars or the Russian Revolution written immediately after the events by some of the key players. I could imagine myself as a historian researching the subject decades down the line and reading the essay as a narrative primary source. It is fascinating as a document, but not entirely convincing as a piece of narrative non-fiction. Narrative non-fiction still requires mastery of structure and character development, the ability to make the key players distinctly recognisable to the reader, and I am not sure that this longer essay worked well on the craft level. It fails to make a complex narrative accessible to non-specialist, as it keeps introducing new players, be they individuals or organisations, out of the blue without much setup. I wasn't sure if it was meant to be read by Mauritians, who would know who these people are, or foreigners, who don't. In either case, the essay would have benefitted from more analysis and less narrative, because presumably the Mauritian readers would know most of this narrative anyway, and outsiders may find it too confusing and difficult to follow.
Overall, I loved the shorter, more analytical essays, and found the narrative one fascinating but not very engaging.
June 13, 2025
In Portrait of an Island of Fire, Ariel Saramandi delivers a searing master class on how the personal is political. It’s hard to not feel discomfort, especially as an Indo Mauritian who has witnessed a lot of the injustices she exposes in the book. You might want to avert your gaze as you take stock of how little progress we’ve made as a nation that likes to sell itself as a straight-A student of multiculturalism, a rainbow nation of enn sel lepep, enn sel nasion.
But we know that this is far from the truth; we know about the conversations that happen in our living rooms, where relatives and parents easily use the worst slurs to talk about their Creole neighbours (if they have any). We know about the gated communities across the country where locals and entire communities are denied entry and access to the land and to the sea. We have been privy to all these uncomfortable truths.
But we rarely address them, because ours is a history of silence, of voluntary amnesia, of passivity, of individualism. That’s why it feels so revolutionary to read about the history we were never taught or maybe never cared to learn about.
In this series of essays, Ariel Saramandi pries open a can of worms, a glimpse into the disturbing underbelly of our country, which has been easy to hide behind the postcard pristine beaches and indigo waters. But the facade is riddled with cracks. She takes us on an investigative deep dive into each and every one of them; the racism, the misogyny, the corruption, the exploitation, while creatively juxtaposing intimate moments of her life with the timeline of our Mauritian decline.
This is a book that should prompt questions, and we as a people should be ready to do the work to provide answers, or find ways to get answers because we can’t go on like this. We need to reckon with our past, resist the embedded anti-Blackness and xenophobia that are part of the bedrock of Mauritian society, fight against the ethno-nationalistic ideals that pits communities against each other while the usual suspects feast on the spectacle of engineered chaos. This book should anger you, if you aren’t already angry. It will ignite something in you.
But we know that this is far from the truth; we know about the conversations that happen in our living rooms, where relatives and parents easily use the worst slurs to talk about their Creole neighbours (if they have any). We know about the gated communities across the country where locals and entire communities are denied entry and access to the land and to the sea. We have been privy to all these uncomfortable truths.
But we rarely address them, because ours is a history of silence, of voluntary amnesia, of passivity, of individualism. That’s why it feels so revolutionary to read about the history we were never taught or maybe never cared to learn about.
In this series of essays, Ariel Saramandi pries open a can of worms, a glimpse into the disturbing underbelly of our country, which has been easy to hide behind the postcard pristine beaches and indigo waters. But the facade is riddled with cracks. She takes us on an investigative deep dive into each and every one of them; the racism, the misogyny, the corruption, the exploitation, while creatively juxtaposing intimate moments of her life with the timeline of our Mauritian decline.
This is a book that should prompt questions, and we as a people should be ready to do the work to provide answers, or find ways to get answers because we can’t go on like this. We need to reckon with our past, resist the embedded anti-Blackness and xenophobia that are part of the bedrock of Mauritian society, fight against the ethno-nationalistic ideals that pits communities against each other while the usual suspects feast on the spectacle of engineered chaos. This book should anger you, if you aren’t already angry. It will ignite something in you.
July 28, 2025
Many thanks to NetGalley and Fitzcarraldo for this ARC in exchange for an honest review!
Ariel Saramandi's book of essays offers up an unflinching, astute, and methodical picture of Mauritius' history, present, and legacy. Permeated by the wonderfully strong and critical autobiographical voice of Saramandi herself, the essays range from reflections on caste, misogyny, the schooling system, housing crisis, Covid, race. Saramandi brings to the foreground the interplays that are present between all of these things - a specifically Mauritian vicious cycle begins to emerge from the country's violent and harrowing past that, it seems, may never be shaken off without extreme political and ideological upheaval.
I learnt so much from this book. It is truly fascinating to be offered such a forthright and direct insight into a country before which I knew very little - Saramandi is at her best when she is talking from the heart, from personal experience, and with desire for change at the forefront of her writing. I found the final essay lost me slightly - in a thorough catalogue of recent Mauritian politics, I found myself losing my way through the names, political parties, and scandals, having to work quite hard to remember who was who and what meant what. For me, that final essay (which takes up a large final third of the book) lacked the drive and intimacy of the previous pieces, putting the book back into a more general category of factual, essay-based non-fiction that I wouldn't naturally gravitate towards as a reader. That being said, overall this was readable, absorbing, and informative making it a book I would still recommend to a specific set of readers who are keen politic/non-fiction fans and interested in deep-dives on how a national culture comes to be defined.
Ariel Saramandi's book of essays offers up an unflinching, astute, and methodical picture of Mauritius' history, present, and legacy. Permeated by the wonderfully strong and critical autobiographical voice of Saramandi herself, the essays range from reflections on caste, misogyny, the schooling system, housing crisis, Covid, race. Saramandi brings to the foreground the interplays that are present between all of these things - a specifically Mauritian vicious cycle begins to emerge from the country's violent and harrowing past that, it seems, may never be shaken off without extreme political and ideological upheaval.
I learnt so much from this book. It is truly fascinating to be offered such a forthright and direct insight into a country before which I knew very little - Saramandi is at her best when she is talking from the heart, from personal experience, and with desire for change at the forefront of her writing. I found the final essay lost me slightly - in a thorough catalogue of recent Mauritian politics, I found myself losing my way through the names, political parties, and scandals, having to work quite hard to remember who was who and what meant what. For me, that final essay (which takes up a large final third of the book) lacked the drive and intimacy of the previous pieces, putting the book back into a more general category of factual, essay-based non-fiction that I wouldn't naturally gravitate towards as a reader. That being said, overall this was readable, absorbing, and informative making it a book I would still recommend to a specific set of readers who are keen politic/non-fiction fans and interested in deep-dives on how a national culture comes to be defined.
June 24, 2025
While the content of Portrait of an Island on Fire by Ariel Saramandi is enlightening and important, and perhaps even revelatory for some, the organisation of many of the essays is quite convoluted.
Saramandi writes about Mauritius and opens this collection of essays, dating from around the mid-2010s to present day, with a brief history of island. The opening is strong as it succeeds in putting an island that many Westerners view as an expensive holiday destination on the map as more than this. Saramandi's brief history reveals how for centuries Mauritius has been scarred and shaped by colonialism, slavery, gentrification, capitalism and racism. The essays which follow seek to expound upon how deep set racism and classism are within the country - both antecedents of colonialism and the slave trade.
From here, however, while I stress the importance of the content and would still recommend people to read Portrait of an Island on Fire, I personally struggled with Saramandi's organisational style. Some essays seemed too tangential at times or the focus utterly switched, causing me to double check I hadn't missed an entire page. In other essays, Saramandi's bullet point style of paragraphing often broke the fluidity of their own writing too.
So, in short, a very important collection of essays, I just wish it had been executed better from a writing standpoint.
Saramandi writes about Mauritius and opens this collection of essays, dating from around the mid-2010s to present day, with a brief history of island. The opening is strong as it succeeds in putting an island that many Westerners view as an expensive holiday destination on the map as more than this. Saramandi's brief history reveals how for centuries Mauritius has been scarred and shaped by colonialism, slavery, gentrification, capitalism and racism. The essays which follow seek to expound upon how deep set racism and classism are within the country - both antecedents of colonialism and the slave trade.
From here, however, while I stress the importance of the content and would still recommend people to read Portrait of an Island on Fire, I personally struggled with Saramandi's organisational style. Some essays seemed too tangential at times or the focus utterly switched, causing me to double check I hadn't missed an entire page. In other essays, Saramandi's bullet point style of paragraphing often broke the fluidity of their own writing too.
So, in short, a very important collection of essays, I just wish it had been executed better from a writing standpoint.
September 27, 2025
Alas, this one lost a star for the overlong final essay. The rest was fascinating, horrifying, ... and too familiar.
June 23, 2025
This is one of the most powerful essay collections I have ever read. Saramandi paints a vivid, urgent portrait of Mauritius, its beauty, its pain, its political decay, and the ongoing consequences of colonialism.
It begins with language, education, and heritage, layered with Ariel’s personal anecdotes and reflections, helping international readers like myself paint a better picture of Mauritius. It then moves into more globally relatable topics such as exploitation, class divides, climate change, and corruption, before ending on a chronicle of the country's political development
The standout essays for me came in the middle section.
In 'Bann-La', the author examines the mistreatment of migrant workers with brutal clarity, exposing the deeply rooted "us versus them" mindset.
'Snapshots of an Island on the Front Line' captures rising sea levels, declining seabird populations, loss of coral, and drought. A very real and pressing natural dystopia. The contrast between how these realities affect different classes is striking. For the less privileged, these changes are life threatening.
'There is too much feminism', an essay so current and relevant. It shows how misogyny seeps into society under certain political leaders. Voices that should be challenged are celebrated instead, and narratives are twisted to benefit the wealthy and powerful, both nationally and globally.
'Pandemic in Nine Acts' reveals how devastating the pandemic was in Mauritius, a country dependent on tourism and imports. What struck me most was the chilling reality of censorship and control. In my country, I never had to fear someone forcing their way into my home for posting a meme. I could always access essential goods, and no animals were captured and exported to research labs. But this was not the case in Mauritius.
'Death Takes the Lagoon', another standout essay, narrating a disaster with urgency and insight. I found the entire collection fascinating, but this essay in particular had me underlining nearly every line.
'Ten Years in Power' is the final and longest essay. I imagine it would resonate more with Mauritian readers, as it traces a detailed political history. For an international reader, it is valuable for filling in the political context, though with less emotional impact since the people and organisations introduced were unfamiliar to me.
The writing throughout is exceptional. Bold, vivid, and full of energy. Every sentence feels purposeful. I cannot wait to reread and annotate the full collection.
5 stars.
It begins with language, education, and heritage, layered with Ariel’s personal anecdotes and reflections, helping international readers like myself paint a better picture of Mauritius. It then moves into more globally relatable topics such as exploitation, class divides, climate change, and corruption, before ending on a chronicle of the country's political development
The standout essays for me came in the middle section.
In 'Bann-La', the author examines the mistreatment of migrant workers with brutal clarity, exposing the deeply rooted "us versus them" mindset.
'Snapshots of an Island on the Front Line' captures rising sea levels, declining seabird populations, loss of coral, and drought. A very real and pressing natural dystopia. The contrast between how these realities affect different classes is striking. For the less privileged, these changes are life threatening.
'There is too much feminism', an essay so current and relevant. It shows how misogyny seeps into society under certain political leaders. Voices that should be challenged are celebrated instead, and narratives are twisted to benefit the wealthy and powerful, both nationally and globally.
'Pandemic in Nine Acts' reveals how devastating the pandemic was in Mauritius, a country dependent on tourism and imports. What struck me most was the chilling reality of censorship and control. In my country, I never had to fear someone forcing their way into my home for posting a meme. I could always access essential goods, and no animals were captured and exported to research labs. But this was not the case in Mauritius.
'Death Takes the Lagoon', another standout essay, narrating a disaster with urgency and insight. I found the entire collection fascinating, but this essay in particular had me underlining nearly every line.
'Ten Years in Power' is the final and longest essay. I imagine it would resonate more with Mauritian readers, as it traces a detailed political history. For an international reader, it is valuable for filling in the political context, though with less emotional impact since the people and organisations introduced were unfamiliar to me.
The writing throughout is exceptional. Bold, vivid, and full of energy. Every sentence feels purposeful. I cannot wait to reread and annotate the full collection.
5 stars.
June 5, 2025
Many thanks to NetGalley and Fitzcarraldo Editions for providing me access to this ARC!
This book was inciteful, well written and well-crafted. It's both educational and reflective and I definitely recommend it!
"Portrait of an Island on Fire" is a essay collection from a debut author's own experiences growing up on the island of Mauritius, as well as the experience of moving away and returning with new insights.
It provides information about the island of Mauritius to allow necessary context for the author's thoughts and reflections. It conveys this information very well and does not feel excessive. I found this information really useful and interesting, having had no knowledge of the country of Mauritius prior to reading.
The collection contains thirteen essays, all of which are quite short but equally well-crafted and thoughtful, exploring racism, colonialism, politics, culture and many more important themes.
Overall, this essay collection was thought-provoking and revealing, considering important themes that are still relevant and present in today's society and climate. For a debut author, I am highly impressed and interested to see what they do next!
This book was inciteful, well written and well-crafted. It's both educational and reflective and I definitely recommend it!
"Portrait of an Island on Fire" is a essay collection from a debut author's own experiences growing up on the island of Mauritius, as well as the experience of moving away and returning with new insights.
It provides information about the island of Mauritius to allow necessary context for the author's thoughts and reflections. It conveys this information very well and does not feel excessive. I found this information really useful and interesting, having had no knowledge of the country of Mauritius prior to reading.
The collection contains thirteen essays, all of which are quite short but equally well-crafted and thoughtful, exploring racism, colonialism, politics, culture and many more important themes.
Overall, this essay collection was thought-provoking and revealing, considering important themes that are still relevant and present in today's society and climate. For a debut author, I am highly impressed and interested to see what they do next!
July 4, 2025
I knew very little about Mauritius other than it being a popular holiday edition, so when I saw the premise of the book, I was intrigued. I liked the essay structure for the first 60%, where each essay discussed a different topic/area of life. It was well written but also interesting. In a few, I wondered if the position was perhaps a bit one-sided, but I enjoyed the reading experience. Unfortunately, it fell off a cliff a bit with the inclusion of the last essay, which to me wasn't an essay, but rather a sprawling political commentary. While I agree wholeheartedly that including some political commentary in a collection that is pointing out the deficits of the regime is important I don't think the level of detail and analysis of the election and regime was particularly interesting or in keeping with the style of the rest of the collection. Thanks to Fitzcarraldo for the e-ARC.
June 28, 2025
2.5 rounded up. Saramandi’s essays cover a range of really fascinating topics - from Mauritius’s highly and complexly racialised society to environmental degradation, land dispossession and the dynamics of tourism - but ultimately I found the engagement with each a little shallow. The fragmentary prose style and intimate focalisation limited the book’s potential. But as a snapshot of a postcolonial society’s fraught reckoning with legacies of colonialism, it was interesting.
July 11, 2025
Wonderful set of interconnected essays. beautifully written, weaving in literature, political, personal. Impressive how she manages to weave in so much without making it feel bloated.
October 23, 2025
Brilliant writing, harrowing to read but very difficult to put down
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews