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Domani sorgerà il sole
Imperi fu attaccata un venerdì pomeriggio in cui quasi tutti gli abitanti erano già rientrati alle loro case dal mercato, dai campi e dalle scuole, per riposarsi e pregare. Diverse granate scagliate dai lanciarazzi annunciarono che la guerra, che insanguinava da qualche tempo la Sierra Leone, era inaspettatamente giunta in città. Spari, urla, lamenti. Fu una di quelle operazioni che i combattenti erano soliti chiamare «No living thing», perché uccidevano qualsiasi essere vivente. I soldati in avanzata, per la maggior parte bambini, sparavano a chi non era ancora morto. E ridevano perché, con la loro fuga rovinosa, i civili facilitavano l’operazione. Quel giorno Mama Kadie vide le pallottole trafiggere i due figli maggiori e tre figlie. Caddero a terra con gli occhi spalancati, pieni di sorpresa per quello che stava loro accadendo. Pa Moiwa, invece, dalla moschea in cui si trovava, scorse la moglie e la nipote di vent’anni uscire di casa correndo. Nella fuga, cercavano disperatamente di spegnere a manate il fuoco che le divorava. Due bambini, però, un maschio e una femmina, le abbatterono e continuarono poi a sparare su altre persone, sempre ridendo. Ora la guerra è finita e Mama Kadie e Pa Moiwa sono tornati a Imperi. Hanno percorso i sentieri dove la terra respira, dorme, si sveglia e intrattiene gli spiriti, con circospezione, poiché, come a tutti i sopravvissuti al «No living thing», è rimasto loro il riflesso di dubitare della dolcezza di un paese tranquillo. In città è tornato anche Bockarie, l’insegnante, con la moglie e due bambini in più, due gemelli nati durante la guerra. Bockarie è passato vicino alla sua vecchia scuola media, dove ha insegnato prima del conflitto. La scuola è deserta, invasa da alberi ed erbacce, i pavimenti ormai percorsi da radici e coperti di foglie. Eppure Bockarie è contento di essere a casa, di riabbracciare il vecchio con la faccia sfigurata che soltanto gli occhi gli rivelano essere suo padre. È bello che gli anziani si ritrovino coi giovani, che si banchetti di nuovo con minestre, burro d’arachidi e selvaggina, che ritorni la vecchia tradizione per cui i figli sono figli di tutti e appartengono a tutti. È bello che il sole splenda di nuovo su Imperi. Ma è davvero così? Non basta, forse, una sola persona con il cuore consumato da un fuoco malvagio perché ritorni l’oscurità? Se con Memorie di un soldato bambino – bestseller acclamato da critica e pubblico in tutto il mondo – Ishmael Beah ha scritto «un classico della letteratura di guerra» ("Publisher’s Weekly"), con Domani sorgerà il sole racconta che cosa significa tornare a casa, e ricostruire un mondo che sembra perduto. Con una scrittura splendida, che attinge molto alla sua lingua madre, il mende («in mende non si direbbe “scese di colpo la notte”, si direbbe “il cielo si rovesciò e cambiò lato”»), e una galleria di personaggi memorabili, Domani sorgerà il sole costituisce una magnifica conferma del talento dello scrittore africano.
272 pages, Paperback
First published January 7, 2014
199 people are currently reading
10084 people want to read
About the author
Ishmael Beah
21 books1,036 followersIshmael Beah was born in Sierra Leone in 1980. He moved to the United States in 1998 and finished his last two years of high school at the United Nations International School in New York. In 2004 he graduated from Oberlin College with a B.A. in political science.
He is a member of the Human Rights Watch Children’s Rights Division Advisory Committee and has spoken before the United Nations, the Council on Foreign Relations, the Center for Emerging Threats and Opportunities (CETO) at the Marine Corps Warfighting Laboratory, and many other NGO panels on children affected by the war. His work has appeared in VespertinePress and LIT magazine. He lives in New York City.
http://us.macmillan.com/author/ishmae...
He is a member of the Human Rights Watch Children’s Rights Division Advisory Committee and has spoken before the United Nations, the Council on Foreign Relations, the Center for Emerging Threats and Opportunities (CETO) at the Marine Corps Warfighting Laboratory, and many other NGO panels on children affected by the war. His work has appeared in VespertinePress and LIT magazine. He lives in New York City.
http://us.macmillan.com/author/ishmae...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 683 reviews
January 7, 2017
This story was anything but radiant.
A civil war has ended in Sierra Leone. The damage it has left is undeniably devastating. It's now 7 years later and a village, Imperi, reawakens as the families begin to return. Some, of course, do not. The many scars the war has left, are mostly healed with the exception of the inner ones.
Just as things are starting to return to a normalcy, a mining company moves in that threatens the village and their livelihood.
From one tragedy to another, their lives are threatened on a daily basis.
The future that takes hold with the white man and his greed exploiting a nation trying to rebuild itself in the midst of destruction. The corruption amongst its layers.
A rich and soulful story about hope and forgiveness. About holding the past, close.About relationships and family. The storytelling of truths passed on by the elders.
The writing - so beautiful. The imagery warms the heart in the darkest days of immense loss. But the radiance of tomorrow brings with it the hope of a new day. A new beginning. 4.25*
A civil war has ended in Sierra Leone. The damage it has left is undeniably devastating. It's now 7 years later and a village, Imperi, reawakens as the families begin to return. Some, of course, do not. The many scars the war has left, are mostly healed with the exception of the inner ones.
Just as things are starting to return to a normalcy, a mining company moves in that threatens the village and their livelihood.
From one tragedy to another, their lives are threatened on a daily basis.
The future that takes hold with the white man and his greed exploiting a nation trying to rebuild itself in the midst of destruction. The corruption amongst its layers.
A rich and soulful story about hope and forgiveness. About holding the past, close.About relationships and family. The storytelling of truths passed on by the elders.
The writing - so beautiful. The imagery warms the heart in the darkest days of immense loss. But the radiance of tomorrow brings with it the hope of a new day. A new beginning. 4.25*
March 27, 2014
I was pulled in from the beginning, not the beginning of the story, but by the author’s introductory note. He begins by describing the importance and meaning of the oral tradition of storytelling in the small village of Sierra Leone where he was born. This tradition becomes an important part of the novel in many ways. It brings together the community of people who have suffered unimaginable losses, it teaches children, and it brings hope when there isn’t any. This tradition also brings beautiful, subtle language that makes you want to read more slowly to grasp the meanings.
“She was the first to arrive where it seemed the wind no longer exhaled .” opens the novel. The people begin to return to their war torn village. They have lost family, some have lost limbs, their homes, but miraculously they maintain the dignity and faith to move forward and rebuild. The have amazing strength and courage and work to bring back life as they knew it before the devastation and loss.
For a little while, the community comes together, helps each other, cares for each other and somehow the laughter of children is born again. But then the miners come - ruining their land, their water and bringing with them the corruption that allows the village to be taken away from them.
I loved the characters, especially the angry young man, Colonel, who provides food, care, and in the end hope for his people. This is a beautifully written story about the devastation of war, the impact of the foreign miners on the lives of these people and it is about their resilience in the face of it all. Highly recommended.
October 19, 2025
....è come un rituale di sogni infranti, che si perpetua in continuazione
Sierra Leone-
Gli anziani Mama Kadie e Pa Maiwa sono i primi ad arrivare tra le rovine di Imperi dopo sette anni di guerra.
Alla spicciolata, pian piano e a piccoli gruppi altri ritornano: timorosi ma immancabilmente attratti dalla terra natia.
Il ricordo di un passato felice non è del tutto scomparso e rimane la speranza di poter ricostruire sulle macerie del proprio dolore.
Il popolo della Sierra Leone si ritrova e reimparare ad avere fiducia.
Cose semplici per altri come camminare tranquillamente alla luce del giorno senza fuggire nella boscaglia al minimo rumore oppure riprovare tenerezza guardando negli occhi un bambino.
Eh sì, perchè i bambini in Sierra Leone sono stati per tanti anni strumenti del terrore; piccole macchine piegate alla violenza che ora faticano a trovare una serenità dopo avere sporcato la loro innocenza in quelle divise di piccoli soldati sottomessi.
«Quando racconti una storia, quando regali una storia, non è più tua; appartiene a chiunque la trovi e a chiunque la accolga. Tu sei solo il pastore di quella storia – è da te che proviene – e puoi guidarla nella direzione che vuoi, ma a volte se ne andrà dove non intendevi farla andare»
Questa è la dolorosa storia della Sierra Leone: Africa occidentale;
stretta tra le Guinea e la Liberia e con una capitale che non vuole arrendersi e continuare a sperare: Freetown!!
La ricchezza nelle sue viscere ha lo splendore di un diamante e per un gioco perverso di contrasti si riflette nella spaventosa povertà di un popolo.
Schiere d'imprese occidentali che sventrano e saccheggiano senza nessun riguardo per uomini e donne che non valgono più di un sacco di riso.
Sullo sfondo rimane l'unica forza possibile quello di sperare che il domani sia migliore.
Un libro doloroso, di forti emozioni.
Trovo impossibile non provare empatia con i protagonisti.
Non schierarsi dalla loro parte nel racconto di una sfilza di ingiustizie.
Non esultare dei sabotaggi vendicativi di Colonnello l'ex bambino soldato che non lascia più trasparire emozioni ma si assume il compito di difendere i deboli.
Ma qui non c'è solo la potenza di una storia (che è anche Storia).
Non si può rimanere indifferenti neppure di fronte al palese lavoro linguistico i cui intenti sono ben spiegati dall'autore stesso nella prefazione:
”Porto molta di quella tradizione orale nella mia scrittura e cerco di lasciarla affiorare dalle parole. I luoghi da cui provengo hanno un’enorme ricchezza linguistica, un’incredibile varietà di espressioni. In Sierra Leone abbiamo circa quindici lingue e tre dialetti. Io sono cresciuto parlandone almeno sette. La mia lingua madre, il mende, è estremamente comunicativa, molto figurata, e quando scrivo in inglese devo sempre faticare per trovare l’equivalente di quello che vorrei dire in mende. Per esempio, in mende non si direbbe «scese di colpo la notte», si direbbe «il cielo si rovesciò e cambiò lato». È lo stesso per ogni singola parola: la traduzione di «palla» in mende sarebbe «nido d’aria», o «vaso che contiene aria». Se cerco di esprimere le stesse cose in inglese, l’effetto che ottengo è completamente diverso. «Prendevano a calci un nido d’aria» assume di colpo tutto un altro significato”.
Mi piacerebbe saper scrivere veramente un commento che renda appieno quello che ritengo una lettura di valore.
Vorrei scrivere parole efficaci che invitino i mie amici a leggere la letteratura africana come valore aggiunto alle loro conoscenze.
Oh, come vorrei esserne capace...
Sierra Leone-
Gli anziani Mama Kadie e Pa Maiwa sono i primi ad arrivare tra le rovine di Imperi dopo sette anni di guerra.
Alla spicciolata, pian piano e a piccoli gruppi altri ritornano: timorosi ma immancabilmente attratti dalla terra natia.
Il ricordo di un passato felice non è del tutto scomparso e rimane la speranza di poter ricostruire sulle macerie del proprio dolore.
Il popolo della Sierra Leone si ritrova e reimparare ad avere fiducia.
Cose semplici per altri come camminare tranquillamente alla luce del giorno senza fuggire nella boscaglia al minimo rumore oppure riprovare tenerezza guardando negli occhi un bambino.
Eh sì, perchè i bambini in Sierra Leone sono stati per tanti anni strumenti del terrore; piccole macchine piegate alla violenza che ora faticano a trovare una serenità dopo avere sporcato la loro innocenza in quelle divise di piccoli soldati sottomessi.
«Quando racconti una storia, quando regali una storia, non è più tua; appartiene a chiunque la trovi e a chiunque la accolga. Tu sei solo il pastore di quella storia – è da te che proviene – e puoi guidarla nella direzione che vuoi, ma a volte se ne andrà dove non intendevi farla andare»
Questa è la dolorosa storia della Sierra Leone: Africa occidentale;
stretta tra le Guinea e la Liberia e con una capitale che non vuole arrendersi e continuare a sperare: Freetown!!
La ricchezza nelle sue viscere ha lo splendore di un diamante e per un gioco perverso di contrasti si riflette nella spaventosa povertà di un popolo.
Schiere d'imprese occidentali che sventrano e saccheggiano senza nessun riguardo per uomini e donne che non valgono più di un sacco di riso.
Sullo sfondo rimane l'unica forza possibile quello di sperare che il domani sia migliore.
Un libro doloroso, di forti emozioni.
Trovo impossibile non provare empatia con i protagonisti.
Non schierarsi dalla loro parte nel racconto di una sfilza di ingiustizie.
Non esultare dei sabotaggi vendicativi di Colonnello l'ex bambino soldato che non lascia più trasparire emozioni ma si assume il compito di difendere i deboli.
Ma qui non c'è solo la potenza di una storia (che è anche Storia).
Non si può rimanere indifferenti neppure di fronte al palese lavoro linguistico i cui intenti sono ben spiegati dall'autore stesso nella prefazione:
”Porto molta di quella tradizione orale nella mia scrittura e cerco di lasciarla affiorare dalle parole. I luoghi da cui provengo hanno un’enorme ricchezza linguistica, un’incredibile varietà di espressioni. In Sierra Leone abbiamo circa quindici lingue e tre dialetti. Io sono cresciuto parlandone almeno sette. La mia lingua madre, il mende, è estremamente comunicativa, molto figurata, e quando scrivo in inglese devo sempre faticare per trovare l’equivalente di quello che vorrei dire in mende. Per esempio, in mende non si direbbe «scese di colpo la notte», si direbbe «il cielo si rovesciò e cambiò lato». È lo stesso per ogni singola parola: la traduzione di «palla» in mende sarebbe «nido d’aria», o «vaso che contiene aria». Se cerco di esprimere le stesse cose in inglese, l’effetto che ottengo è completamente diverso. «Prendevano a calci un nido d’aria» assume di colpo tutto un altro significato”.
Mi piacerebbe saper scrivere veramente un commento che renda appieno quello che ritengo una lettura di valore.
Vorrei scrivere parole efficaci che invitino i mie amici a leggere la letteratura africana come valore aggiunto alle loro conoscenze.
Oh, come vorrei esserne capace...
February 3, 2014
Mama Kadie cautiously enters the central path of her village, not sure what to expect, pondering on what has remained and who is still there or has come back like she does now. After the traumas, losses and devastation of the war she experiences profound emotions as she walks barefoot on the local soil, smells the scents of the land and watches and listens for every sound in the bushes. What will life have in store for her? The opening pages of Ishmael Beah's debut novel, Radiance of Tomorrow, are achingly beautiful; his voice gentle and affecting, his deep emotional connection palpable with what he describes so colourfully.
Having experienced international acclaim with his memoir, A Long Way Gone, which recounts the story of a child soldier in Sierra Leone, with his new book he returns to his homeland, sharing with his readers the demanding and difficult path that the local people have to follow in their recovery from the brutal war and its many losses in life and livelihood. There is hope – radiance – for a better future but there are also many sacrifices to make: forgiving is not forgetting; rebuilding on ruins, literally, on the bones of loved ones is probably one of the most haunting challenges. Transposing the facts and realities of the aftermath of the Sierra Leonean war into a fictional framework carries its own challenges. At the same time, it gives the author a greater freedom of expression for exploring the tragedies and recoveries. Benefiting from his mother tongue's rich figurative language, Mende, Beah also conveys to us something of the soul of his home and way of thinking. In his language there is a deep connection between land, nature, cosmos and people that speaks through his wording and that also characterizes his in depth developed protagonists.
The first person Mama Kadie meets as she walks along the central paths of the village is Pa Moiwa, who resting on a log in the village square. Much time will be needed to absorb the enormity of what has happened, evidence of violence and death are visible everywhere. Pa Moiwa slowly turns around on hearing the voice of his old friend: his only question is "how she had brought her spirit into town and which route she had taken." "… I walked the path, as that is the way in my heart." There will be many days for them to carefully and gently peel away the layers that have hidden their experiences of the recent past. Every day more people arrive: returning displaced locals and desperate refugees from other parts of the country where survival is even more precarious. Mama Kadie, Pa Moiwa and, later, Pa Kainesi play a central role in the community, respected by everybody as the "elders". Young and old sit together in the village centre after a day's struggle to repair houses, fetch water and find food to cook; the elders are telling stories of the past with the children listening attentively: "It isn't about knowing the most stories, child. It is about carrying the ones that are most important and passing them along [from one generation to the next]…." Meanwhile, the younger adults sit apart working on plans how to find work and supplies to care for their families, among them Bockarie and Benjamin, both teachers, who will do everything in their power to ensure a brighter future for their children and others in the community.
Among the returnees are several former child soldiers and lost orphans who prefer to stay at a distance from the villagers but form an important component in the rebuilding of the village as all are coping with the emotional scars of their and the villagers' recent experiences. They form a small community of their own, led by the enigmatic "Colonel", a shadowy silent figure, who, nonetheless, finds ways to express his growing allegiance to his protégés and the villagers in unexpected ways.
There is a moment of almost idyllic peace in the community, but as is often the case in real life… it is the calm ahead of the storm. And the storm comes in the form of huge trucks and machinery and shouting people who appear to come from another world… The small mining company that had operated in the area before the war has come back with ambitious new owners and investors, who, with little regard to the needs and traditions of the villages nearby, take over the precious farmland and water resources for an ever expanding open-pit mining operation. The company, endorsed by the provincial politicians, is dividing the community physically and emotionally. Their behaviour provokes not only the elders. They bring the worst of city life into this remote region of the country. On the other hand they become the only employer in the villages around. Conflicts are unavoidable and there can only be few winners.
Ishmael Beah's novel is beautifully written, absorbing and engaging at many levels. His central characters stay in your mind long after you closed the book. He succeeds in telling a story that balances humanity and grace on the one hand with the harsh reality of life in a country that has come out of a brutal civil war and is faced with a devastated economy. Traditional ways of life are challenged and as readers we can only hope that the wisdom of the elders can continue in the mind of the younger generations and that they will learn from the many stories their culture and communities have to offer.
Having experienced international acclaim with his memoir, A Long Way Gone, which recounts the story of a child soldier in Sierra Leone, with his new book he returns to his homeland, sharing with his readers the demanding and difficult path that the local people have to follow in their recovery from the brutal war and its many losses in life and livelihood. There is hope – radiance – for a better future but there are also many sacrifices to make: forgiving is not forgetting; rebuilding on ruins, literally, on the bones of loved ones is probably one of the most haunting challenges. Transposing the facts and realities of the aftermath of the Sierra Leonean war into a fictional framework carries its own challenges. At the same time, it gives the author a greater freedom of expression for exploring the tragedies and recoveries. Benefiting from his mother tongue's rich figurative language, Mende, Beah also conveys to us something of the soul of his home and way of thinking. In his language there is a deep connection between land, nature, cosmos and people that speaks through his wording and that also characterizes his in depth developed protagonists.
The first person Mama Kadie meets as she walks along the central paths of the village is Pa Moiwa, who resting on a log in the village square. Much time will be needed to absorb the enormity of what has happened, evidence of violence and death are visible everywhere. Pa Moiwa slowly turns around on hearing the voice of his old friend: his only question is "how she had brought her spirit into town and which route she had taken." "… I walked the path, as that is the way in my heart." There will be many days for them to carefully and gently peel away the layers that have hidden their experiences of the recent past. Every day more people arrive: returning displaced locals and desperate refugees from other parts of the country where survival is even more precarious. Mama Kadie, Pa Moiwa and, later, Pa Kainesi play a central role in the community, respected by everybody as the "elders". Young and old sit together in the village centre after a day's struggle to repair houses, fetch water and find food to cook; the elders are telling stories of the past with the children listening attentively: "It isn't about knowing the most stories, child. It is about carrying the ones that are most important and passing them along [from one generation to the next]…." Meanwhile, the younger adults sit apart working on plans how to find work and supplies to care for their families, among them Bockarie and Benjamin, both teachers, who will do everything in their power to ensure a brighter future for their children and others in the community.
Among the returnees are several former child soldiers and lost orphans who prefer to stay at a distance from the villagers but form an important component in the rebuilding of the village as all are coping with the emotional scars of their and the villagers' recent experiences. They form a small community of their own, led by the enigmatic "Colonel", a shadowy silent figure, who, nonetheless, finds ways to express his growing allegiance to his protégés and the villagers in unexpected ways.
There is a moment of almost idyllic peace in the community, but as is often the case in real life… it is the calm ahead of the storm. And the storm comes in the form of huge trucks and machinery and shouting people who appear to come from another world… The small mining company that had operated in the area before the war has come back with ambitious new owners and investors, who, with little regard to the needs and traditions of the villages nearby, take over the precious farmland and water resources for an ever expanding open-pit mining operation. The company, endorsed by the provincial politicians, is dividing the community physically and emotionally. Their behaviour provokes not only the elders. They bring the worst of city life into this remote region of the country. On the other hand they become the only employer in the villages around. Conflicts are unavoidable and there can only be few winners.
Ishmael Beah's novel is beautifully written, absorbing and engaging at many levels. His central characters stay in your mind long after you closed the book. He succeeds in telling a story that balances humanity and grace on the one hand with the harsh reality of life in a country that has come out of a brutal civil war and is faced with a devastated economy. Traditional ways of life are challenged and as readers we can only hope that the wisdom of the elders can continue in the mind of the younger generations and that they will learn from the many stories their culture and communities have to offer.
May 25, 2014
this book is a brutal fairy tale.
at first it presents you with The World as It Should Be and Maybe Has Never Been but We Can Dream of It:
exhausted, traumatized, mutilated physically and spiritually by a brutal war, villagers come back to their destroyed village. the first are a couple of elders, who take on the essential job of burying the dead. soon more people return: families, ex-child soldiers, pregnant girls. The elders are the moral and civic center of the village and hold it together with storytelling. they understand the wounds of the returned and honor them with silence and kindness. secrets are never pried open, but storytelling turns them into parables (how many terrible secrets are there after all? the nature of a secret is not its unguessability but the holder's unwillingness to disclose it) and the community heals. gently, slowly.
the school re-opens. people find small jobs and rebuild their houses. there is a lot of poverty and hunger, but families support each other. they sit on their porches at night and laugh.
the school is run by a corrupt principal but what is new? this is sierra leone. corruption is the name of the game.
then, as always on the wake of war, international corporations come in. they don't know and don't respect the earth. they raze open the land to create streets the land is not ready to absorb. the land has its rhythms, its paths. these absurd, dusty, muddy, unwalkable streets plow right through the rhythms of the land. they violate the gentle communing between the villagers and their physical environment.
the corporation's riches are a scandal to the careful living of the poor villagers and their humble and generous sharing. SUVs travel up and down the new scarry roads and kids and teachers can no longer wear their regular clothes to school because they will be unwearable by the time they get there. instead, they pack their clothes in bags and wash and change once they get to school.
the mining corporation is manned by white men in dark sunglasses. these men are not human beings the villagers can relate to. we can't related to them either. they have no faces. they are machines who have checked their humanity at the front office. their cars run roughshod over people and their precious few belongings. if someone is hurt or dying, they don't stop. the complete disregard for the humanity of the villagers reminded me of holocaust narratives.
the villagers, though, have each other. storytelling is hard now, but there is still love, sharing, a community.
then the corporations steal villagers away from their humble but dignified jobs and lure them to work in jobs where, again, their value is only that of muscled machines. this lure is irresistible because families must be fed.
you know how this goes. you know it because you buy into it every day. you hear that garment workers are burned alive at their workplace in thailand. you stop buying gap or banana republic or macy’s for a week, a month. then you go back. the machine is amoral. the machine makes you amoral. this is not a story about africa. this is the story of a world of rich people with nice things and poor people whose existence is kept as hidden as possible from the rich people with nice things.
i read this story as being about me. about my phone and my computer and the metals needed to make them. these metals are under the homes and feet of villagers i come to love through books but are otherwise kept constantly out of my sight (out of sight out of mind).
and when i read this story i thought, what can i do? the answer is, as always, nothing. there is nothing i can do. i can't vote for politicians who won't invest in companies like this, or stop them, because the political system is owned by these companies. i can't stop buying computers and phones and other things whose prime components live under the feet of people whose land i have no business raiding, because the society in which i live has made them indispensable.
i am a man in a black SUV who wears dark sunglasses and sees the death of a child or a man or a woman by the side of the road, in a mine, or in a sweatshop just as a barely registerable accident.
March 16, 2014
For the people of Sierra Leone the last few decades have been horrific, the war has demolished villages, killed many people and sent others to makeshift displacement camps. Now at last the war is over, and the people of Impari are returning to their village, to the only place they know as home. At first it is just two elders who find few houses standing and many, many dead bodies. They have no idea how many of the villagers survived, even those of their own families. More and more arrive, almost daily and they slowly start rebuilding their homes, their lives and their traditions.
So this novel exemplifies the adaptability of the people, as a mine moves in and starts mining routine and while it provides jobs, it takes away more than it gives. Once again the people must adapt, until that is no longe3r possible. It is a novel of home, of reclaiming and trying to hold on to what one values.
I loved these people, all of the villager, the elders, the children, the school teachers who must make an unbearable choice. My favorite though, was a young man called :"The Colonel" who is not willing to let injustices go by, but uses any means at his disposal to right a wrong.
The prose is lyrical in cadence, many of the sentences have a musicality to them that is beautiful.
For example, "Again," Bockarie pointed his ruler at the boy, whose voice the wind carried until the appointed time when nature began its call for the departure of that day's blues sky," There are many sentences such as this one.
It shows us the importance of storytelling, which keeps the past alive, but also teaches. When the people do not survive, the story does. It showing town caught in the middle of progress, not even supported by their own government.
One can look at this as a book that says progress is bad, the west is the enemy, with their quest to make money, and maybe to a point it is, but life must progress, people must adapt. This happens in many, many, places all throughout time and will continue to do so So in the final part of the book, we see will survive the changes and go on and who could not and The Colonel makes his last appearance. Ultimately one cannot always live in the same place, the same life but they can always take a part of it with them
For me, this was a very memorable read.
So this novel exemplifies the adaptability of the people, as a mine moves in and starts mining routine and while it provides jobs, it takes away more than it gives. Once again the people must adapt, until that is no longe3r possible. It is a novel of home, of reclaiming and trying to hold on to what one values.
I loved these people, all of the villager, the elders, the children, the school teachers who must make an unbearable choice. My favorite though, was a young man called :"The Colonel" who is not willing to let injustices go by, but uses any means at his disposal to right a wrong.
The prose is lyrical in cadence, many of the sentences have a musicality to them that is beautiful.
For example, "Again," Bockarie pointed his ruler at the boy, whose voice the wind carried until the appointed time when nature began its call for the departure of that day's blues sky," There are many sentences such as this one.
It shows us the importance of storytelling, which keeps the past alive, but also teaches. When the people do not survive, the story does. It showing town caught in the middle of progress, not even supported by their own government.
One can look at this as a book that says progress is bad, the west is the enemy, with their quest to make money, and maybe to a point it is, but life must progress, people must adapt. This happens in many, many, places all throughout time and will continue to do so So in the final part of the book, we see will survive the changes and go on and who could not and The Colonel makes his last appearance. Ultimately one cannot always live in the same place, the same life but they can always take a part of it with them
For me, this was a very memorable read.
August 17, 2015
Oof. I'm really having trouble with this book, not so much the story, but the writing. Despite some beautiful sentences and passages, it just didn't work for me. I was surprised to see that I'm in a minority, with most people giving the book four and five stars. Even three stars is somewhat of a stretch for me. I'm waffling between two and three stars.
Although something was amiss for me with the writing, it was somehow still evocative. The book had a mood and I had visceral reactions to certain events and characters, so that is good. I thought the central piece of the storyline (a mining company's takeover of a small town)was well told from the vantage of local people and I thought the buildup to that was good, with the reader learning about other (lesser?) forms of exploitation and corruption, the school principal embezzling salaries, for example. My favorite parts were the scenes in which elders, Mama Kadie in particular, tried to stand up to figures of authority like the paramount chief and the police so the reader could appreciate how futile their efforts were. I felt inspired to read similar works taking place in the mines of Appalachia here in the US.
However, the writing seemed to waver between novelistic writing and documentary writing. The transitions between the two were not smooth to me and it got on my nerves. I also think perhaps Beah tried to get too much stuff into this one story, which means some things got lost. I am having ambivalent feelings about the storylines concerning Ernest and Sila's family, the symbolism of Colonel throughout, and the fates of the war orphans who settled in Imperi with Colonel.
Finally, I wish this was two books. I felt that the ending was rushed and forced, with way too much "showing" (or do i mean "telling"? whatever it was, it was aggravating...)going on. Any subtlety found in the Imperi portion of the book was lost in Freetown. I think the book would have been stronger had Beah ended it with Bockarie's family's departure. A sequel about their life in Freetown would have given Beah the space to flesh out all the problematic things Bockarie and Kula encountered there.
Although something was amiss for me with the writing, it was somehow still evocative. The book had a mood and I had visceral reactions to certain events and characters, so that is good. I thought the central piece of the storyline (a mining company's takeover of a small town)was well told from the vantage of local people and I thought the buildup to that was good, with the reader learning about other (lesser?) forms of exploitation and corruption, the school principal embezzling salaries, for example. My favorite parts were the scenes in which elders, Mama Kadie in particular, tried to stand up to figures of authority like the paramount chief and the police so the reader could appreciate how futile their efforts were. I felt inspired to read similar works taking place in the mines of Appalachia here in the US.
However, the writing seemed to waver between novelistic writing and documentary writing. The transitions between the two were not smooth to me and it got on my nerves. I also think perhaps Beah tried to get too much stuff into this one story, which means some things got lost. I am having ambivalent feelings about the storylines concerning Ernest and Sila's family, the symbolism of Colonel throughout, and the fates of the war orphans who settled in Imperi with Colonel.
Finally, I wish this was two books. I felt that the ending was rushed and forced, with way too much "showing" (or do i mean "telling"? whatever it was, it was aggravating...)going on. Any subtlety found in the Imperi portion of the book was lost in Freetown. I think the book would have been stronger had Beah ended it with Bockarie's family's departure. A sequel about their life in Freetown would have given Beah the space to flesh out all the problematic things Bockarie and Kula encountered there.
November 26, 2013
"Radiance of Tomorrow" alludes to more than just a new hope the future brings. It speaks to the hardships tomorrow might come with, and the human courage and determination it takes to face such challenges. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel, sometimes it just takes a little detours to get there.
It takes a little while warming up to the words. You get what Ishmael Beah is trying to convey but because his wording and sentence structures are not typical to an "English" novel, which he acknowledges wanting to write with his voice, and his people's consciousness and Mende language, in his note to readers, it starts off quite jarringly to what one is used to. But by 10 pages, I was fully immersed in Beah's words and world, never able to shake off the eagerness of wanting to turn a page. This resulted in reading most of the book in one sitting.
The story is told is powerful and compelling. It was intriguing to read of what happens after a war and see it from the other side of the lens - how its people have to piece their lives back together from almost nothing, and deal with external influences beyond their control. At the core of "Radiance of Tomorrow" is its character piece. Beah has a village of multi-faceted characters - each with their own strengths and weaknesses, each developed in its own way. It is through knowing them that makes the novel such a grounded and humanistic read, one that will appeal to readers who found Beah's memoir "A Long Way Gone" and Katherine Boo's "Behind the Beautiful Forevers" rewarding and informative.
It takes a little while warming up to the words. You get what Ishmael Beah is trying to convey but because his wording and sentence structures are not typical to an "English" novel, which he acknowledges wanting to write with his voice, and his people's consciousness and Mende language, in his note to readers, it starts off quite jarringly to what one is used to. But by 10 pages, I was fully immersed in Beah's words and world, never able to shake off the eagerness of wanting to turn a page. This resulted in reading most of the book in one sitting.
The story is told is powerful and compelling. It was intriguing to read of what happens after a war and see it from the other side of the lens - how its people have to piece their lives back together from almost nothing, and deal with external influences beyond their control. At the core of "Radiance of Tomorrow" is its character piece. Beah has a village of multi-faceted characters - each with their own strengths and weaknesses, each developed in its own way. It is through knowing them that makes the novel such a grounded and humanistic read, one that will appeal to readers who found Beah's memoir "A Long Way Gone" and Katherine Boo's "Behind the Beautiful Forevers" rewarding and informative.
January 2, 2014
It's just January 2nd and I already have a book that is guaranteed to make my end of the year list.
Ishmael Beah's Radiance of Tomorrow is a haunting and poignant look at the attempts to rebuild a war-town town.
What stood out for me was just how easy it is to victimize the already victimized, primarily in the names of progress and capitalism.
A must read.
Ishmael Beah's Radiance of Tomorrow is a haunting and poignant look at the attempts to rebuild a war-town town.
What stood out for me was just how easy it is to victimize the already victimized, primarily in the names of progress and capitalism.
A must read.
January 2, 2014
Who doesn’t feel humbled by the hopefulness of those who have suffered most? The unbowed spirit of Nelson Mandela, Elie Wiesel or young Malala Yousafzai rebukes our lazy cynicism and reminds us that there’s nothing effete about expecting better days ahead.
Six years ago, the world heard from another resilient witness to humanity’s atrocities. Ishmael Beah was a teenager when civil war engulfed his home in Sierra Leone and rebels forced him to become a killer. His bestselling memoir, “A Long Way Gone,” did much to raise public awareness of the horrific abuse of child soldiers in Africa. Since then, Beah has become a UNICEF advocate for children affected by war, and his indelible memoir has become part of the curriculum in many schools.
Now he has published a muted, emotionally nimble story of return and rebuilding. As a novel, “Radiance of Tomorrow” won’t have to suffer the interrogation that Rupert Murdoch’s Australian reporters unleashed to prove that the traumatic memories in “A Long Way Gone” contained factual and chronological errors. Beah’s characters in these pages are fictional: survivors — whole and maimed, victims and perpetrators — who somehow emerged alive from the carnage that began sweeping Sierra Leone in the early 1990s. Their experiences, rendered in Beah’s evocative, campfire voice, present a community struggling to relearn the motions of ordinary life after a nightmare that “required parting with all familiar ways.”
The scene opens on a burned-out village called Imperi. Old Mama Kadie walks out of the forest, looking for the house she fled years ago. “There were bones, human bones, everywhere,” Beah writes, “and all she could tell was which had been a child or an adult.” Determined never to flee again, Mama Kadie finds another elder in the village, and together they collect and wash the mingled femurs, skulls and ribs of their relatives and neighbors. As they work, their thoughts drift back to those unspeakable days of “Operation No Living Thing,” when gunmen arrived and began torturing and killing everyone.
But this is not the story of that carnage, nor is it a story of post-traumatic stress, despite these horrifically ripe conditions. “Radiance of Tomorrow” negotiates a delicate space somewhere between psychological realism and tribal fable, letting the stories of these people cycle gently through without any amplified drama. As more and more former residents of Imperi dare to return home, Beah flashes on their unspeakable memories of the war — crowds sprayed with bullets, hands chopped off, children raped — but he never lets those searing moments overtake the novel, any more than these people allow such memories to dominate their lives. Mama Kadie may yearn to ask, “How are you, your children and grandchildren, your wife, their health?” but she knows better. “These days one must be careful to avoid awakening the pain of another.” Instead, Mama Kadie thinks, “We are here, and we must go on living.”
How unlike the therapeutic methods of the West, with its emphasis on talking about traumatic experiences as a way of putting them to rest. Here in Imperi, the past must be buried, not expressed, shared or analyzed. The stories these villagers tell one another celebrate their heritage and character. Pa Moiwa explains, “I think stories and the old ways will bring them in contact with life, with living, and with godliness again.”
In a field of neighbors’ bleached bones, that risks sounding pat, like some African Scarlett O’Hara, but Beah is quick to complicate the rebirth of Imperi in unsettling ways. “The town’s revival was fragile,” he admits. As the loosely connected episodes of “Radiance of Tomorrow” unfold, a host of new and old evils slither back into town. The most insidious of them is corruption, which runs like an infection through every financial and political relationship in Sierra Leone. Widespread torture and murder are more dramatic, of course — and more harrowing to read about — but in a way, they’re easier to extinguish. What Beah dramatizes in this novel is the sapping waste and grinding discouragement of trying to work in an economy hobbled by nepotism, graft and bribery, a society with only the scenery of a working legal system, where, for instance, the police regularly stop buses and demand “tax payments” from every passenger.
That climate presents a humid atmosphere for foreign exploitation, encouraged by a central government that ignores the local people’s needs and tramples on their culture. In their thirst for rutile and other minerals, including diamonds, mining companies cast over these poor people what Richard Auty once called “the resource curse.” To the arrogant white men arriving from distant places, Imperi is merely “a wretched place with beautiful things in the soil.” Extracting that value cheaply and quickly requires poisoning rivers, incinerating workers and blowing up graveyards. Complain, and you’ll be arrested for slandering the benevolent job creators.
If the novel’s political argument is sometimes a bit obvious, its sympathetic exploration of the villagers’ lives is always subtle and engaging. The loosely connected episodes gradually coalesce around the experiences of two teachers, Bockarie and Benjamin, who have returned to Imperi and struggle to support their families and their students. It’s impossible not to be moved by their industriousness, but these men are up against forces insensible to their needs or their values. By the end, a conspiracy of misfortune, fraud and poverty seems completely overwhelming — a modern-day echo of what John Steinbeck and Frank Norris captured in their portrayal of ordinary folks crushed in America during the early 20th century.
But Beah has a resilient spirit and a lyrical style all his own. Even as a multitude of wearying failures mounts, his characters retain their hopefulness in a way that’s challenging and inspiring: “We must live in radiance of tomorrow, as our ancestors have suggested in their tales,” Mama Kadie tells her neighbors. “For what is yet to come tomorrow has possibilities, and we must think of it, the simplest glimpse of that possibility of goodness. That will be our strength. That has always been our strength.”
http://www.washingtonpost.com/enterta...
Six years ago, the world heard from another resilient witness to humanity’s atrocities. Ishmael Beah was a teenager when civil war engulfed his home in Sierra Leone and rebels forced him to become a killer. His bestselling memoir, “A Long Way Gone,” did much to raise public awareness of the horrific abuse of child soldiers in Africa. Since then, Beah has become a UNICEF advocate for children affected by war, and his indelible memoir has become part of the curriculum in many schools.
Now he has published a muted, emotionally nimble story of return and rebuilding. As a novel, “Radiance of Tomorrow” won’t have to suffer the interrogation that Rupert Murdoch’s Australian reporters unleashed to prove that the traumatic memories in “A Long Way Gone” contained factual and chronological errors. Beah’s characters in these pages are fictional: survivors — whole and maimed, victims and perpetrators — who somehow emerged alive from the carnage that began sweeping Sierra Leone in the early 1990s. Their experiences, rendered in Beah’s evocative, campfire voice, present a community struggling to relearn the motions of ordinary life after a nightmare that “required parting with all familiar ways.”
The scene opens on a burned-out village called Imperi. Old Mama Kadie walks out of the forest, looking for the house she fled years ago. “There were bones, human bones, everywhere,” Beah writes, “and all she could tell was which had been a child or an adult.” Determined never to flee again, Mama Kadie finds another elder in the village, and together they collect and wash the mingled femurs, skulls and ribs of their relatives and neighbors. As they work, their thoughts drift back to those unspeakable days of “Operation No Living Thing,” when gunmen arrived and began torturing and killing everyone.
But this is not the story of that carnage, nor is it a story of post-traumatic stress, despite these horrifically ripe conditions. “Radiance of Tomorrow” negotiates a delicate space somewhere between psychological realism and tribal fable, letting the stories of these people cycle gently through without any amplified drama. As more and more former residents of Imperi dare to return home, Beah flashes on their unspeakable memories of the war — crowds sprayed with bullets, hands chopped off, children raped — but he never lets those searing moments overtake the novel, any more than these people allow such memories to dominate their lives. Mama Kadie may yearn to ask, “How are you, your children and grandchildren, your wife, their health?” but she knows better. “These days one must be careful to avoid awakening the pain of another.” Instead, Mama Kadie thinks, “We are here, and we must go on living.”
How unlike the therapeutic methods of the West, with its emphasis on talking about traumatic experiences as a way of putting them to rest. Here in Imperi, the past must be buried, not expressed, shared or analyzed. The stories these villagers tell one another celebrate their heritage and character. Pa Moiwa explains, “I think stories and the old ways will bring them in contact with life, with living, and with godliness again.”
In a field of neighbors’ bleached bones, that risks sounding pat, like some African Scarlett O’Hara, but Beah is quick to complicate the rebirth of Imperi in unsettling ways. “The town’s revival was fragile,” he admits. As the loosely connected episodes of “Radiance of Tomorrow” unfold, a host of new and old evils slither back into town. The most insidious of them is corruption, which runs like an infection through every financial and political relationship in Sierra Leone. Widespread torture and murder are more dramatic, of course — and more harrowing to read about — but in a way, they’re easier to extinguish. What Beah dramatizes in this novel is the sapping waste and grinding discouragement of trying to work in an economy hobbled by nepotism, graft and bribery, a society with only the scenery of a working legal system, where, for instance, the police regularly stop buses and demand “tax payments” from every passenger.
That climate presents a humid atmosphere for foreign exploitation, encouraged by a central government that ignores the local people’s needs and tramples on their culture. In their thirst for rutile and other minerals, including diamonds, mining companies cast over these poor people what Richard Auty once called “the resource curse.” To the arrogant white men arriving from distant places, Imperi is merely “a wretched place with beautiful things in the soil.” Extracting that value cheaply and quickly requires poisoning rivers, incinerating workers and blowing up graveyards. Complain, and you’ll be arrested for slandering the benevolent job creators.
If the novel’s political argument is sometimes a bit obvious, its sympathetic exploration of the villagers’ lives is always subtle and engaging. The loosely connected episodes gradually coalesce around the experiences of two teachers, Bockarie and Benjamin, who have returned to Imperi and struggle to support their families and their students. It’s impossible not to be moved by their industriousness, but these men are up against forces insensible to their needs or their values. By the end, a conspiracy of misfortune, fraud and poverty seems completely overwhelming — a modern-day echo of what John Steinbeck and Frank Norris captured in their portrayal of ordinary folks crushed in America during the early 20th century.
But Beah has a resilient spirit and a lyrical style all his own. Even as a multitude of wearying failures mounts, his characters retain their hopefulness in a way that’s challenging and inspiring: “We must live in radiance of tomorrow, as our ancestors have suggested in their tales,” Mama Kadie tells her neighbors. “For what is yet to come tomorrow has possibilities, and we must think of it, the simplest glimpse of that possibility of goodness. That will be our strength. That has always been our strength.”
http://www.washingtonpost.com/enterta...
January 17, 2014
After reading the first 3 chapters of this book I had from the library, I went out and bought my own copy. I also spent some time on the internet trying to learn about the civil war in Sierra Leone..not because you need to but because the writing made me feel that I wanted to. This is most definitely not a book you read for mere entertainment value or as a quick read. You just want to soak in every word on the page. You read it for the beauty of the words and the writing, for the experience of another country and you walk away with a renewed understanding that most of the world does not live like we do and human rights are not something to take for granted.
The writing is poetic...sentences like "One morning, as Bockarie and his children walked in the last brushstrokes of night...." And "This wasn't a place for illusions; the reality here was the genuine happiness that came about from the natural magic of standing next to someone and being consumed by the fortitude in his or her humanity." I highlighted too many quotes to list here!
I just think the title alone is beautiful, but this quote and how the characters embody it will always stick with me: "We must live in the radiance of tomorrow, as our ancestors have suggested in their tales. For what is yet to come tomorrow has possibilities, and we must think of it, the simplest glimpse of that possibility of goodness. That will be our strength. That has always been our strength."
Just such a beautiful story...a people living in post civil war Sierra Leone coming home for a fresh start and they are just pushed down again and again, yet they still continue to believe in "the radiance of tomorrow." So, it doesn't feel like a depressing read at all...oddly, there was part of me that wanted to be there in the village with these characters.
I usually always read books that are historical fiction, so when reading about certain atrocities, it's easy to write them off in thinking "well, that was along time ago..thank God we're more civilized now, etc." So to read about the things happening in this book and to realize that they are not only real, but occur today in places all over the world was a good reminder that we should be so much more thankful for what we have.
I could go on and on on this one...
The writing is poetic...sentences like "One morning, as Bockarie and his children walked in the last brushstrokes of night...." And "This wasn't a place for illusions; the reality here was the genuine happiness that came about from the natural magic of standing next to someone and being consumed by the fortitude in his or her humanity." I highlighted too many quotes to list here!
I just think the title alone is beautiful, but this quote and how the characters embody it will always stick with me: "We must live in the radiance of tomorrow, as our ancestors have suggested in their tales. For what is yet to come tomorrow has possibilities, and we must think of it, the simplest glimpse of that possibility of goodness. That will be our strength. That has always been our strength."
Just such a beautiful story...a people living in post civil war Sierra Leone coming home for a fresh start and they are just pushed down again and again, yet they still continue to believe in "the radiance of tomorrow." So, it doesn't feel like a depressing read at all...oddly, there was part of me that wanted to be there in the village with these characters.
I usually always read books that are historical fiction, so when reading about certain atrocities, it's easy to write them off in thinking "well, that was along time ago..thank God we're more civilized now, etc." So to read about the things happening in this book and to realize that they are not only real, but occur today in places all over the world was a good reminder that we should be so much more thankful for what we have.
I could go on and on on this one...
September 14, 2025
...Benché i miracoli siano esauriti, da queste parti, se non altro siamo ancora vivi, perciò rallegrati, figliolo! Guarda il sole che nasce. Ci resta il domani...
...Bisogna nutrire la speranza in ogni aspetto della propria vita: nel passo, nel sorriso, nella risata quando la si trova, persino nel respiro, se si vuole vivere a Freetown...
Storia dolorosa, tragica, che racconta un pezzo di Africa che, dopo essere stato martoriato dalla guerra, cerca di rialzarsi solo per finire nuovamente schiacciato dalle multinazionali che sfuttano i giacimenti minerari. Ambientato in Sierra Leone, questo romanzo racconta una storia tristemente sentita, una storia che vede i più deboli schiacciati da ingranaggi così grandi da rendere impossibile il trovare una via d'uscita. Eppure, nonostante tutto, il barlume della speranza rimane sempre acceso. Calato all'interno della comunità costituita dal piccolo paese di Imperi, attraverso i suoi personaggi, il libro riesce a toccare tanti temi importanti: i soldati bambino, la corruzione endemica in Africa, i rapporti tra la popolazione autoctona e le multinazionali.
Bella la scelta di usare una lingua che "traduca letteralmente" le espressioni del nativo mende di Beah, aggiungendo così alla scrittura un tocco poetico molto particolare. Belli anche i racconti inseriti nella narrazione.
... È la fine, o forse l'inizio di un'altra storia
Ogni storia inizia e finisce con una donna,
Una madre, una nonna, una ragazza, una figlia
Ogni storia è una nascita...
...Bisogna nutrire la speranza in ogni aspetto della propria vita: nel passo, nel sorriso, nella risata quando la si trova, persino nel respiro, se si vuole vivere a Freetown...
Storia dolorosa, tragica, che racconta un pezzo di Africa che, dopo essere stato martoriato dalla guerra, cerca di rialzarsi solo per finire nuovamente schiacciato dalle multinazionali che sfuttano i giacimenti minerari. Ambientato in Sierra Leone, questo romanzo racconta una storia tristemente sentita, una storia che vede i più deboli schiacciati da ingranaggi così grandi da rendere impossibile il trovare una via d'uscita. Eppure, nonostante tutto, il barlume della speranza rimane sempre acceso. Calato all'interno della comunità costituita dal piccolo paese di Imperi, attraverso i suoi personaggi, il libro riesce a toccare tanti temi importanti: i soldati bambino, la corruzione endemica in Africa, i rapporti tra la popolazione autoctona e le multinazionali.
Bella la scelta di usare una lingua che "traduca letteralmente" le espressioni del nativo mende di Beah, aggiungendo così alla scrittura un tocco poetico molto particolare. Belli anche i racconti inseriti nella narrazione.
... È la fine, o forse l'inizio di un'altra storia
Ogni storia inizia e finisce con una donna,
Una madre, una nonna, una ragazza, una figlia
Ogni storia è una nascita...
December 30, 2013
Ishmael Beah has written a stunningly beautiful novel. RADIANCE OF TOMORROW, finds a remote village in Sierra Leone attempting to rebuild and sustain a new community out of the madness and carnage of civil war. Already plagued with the challenges of disturbing personal memories and loss, they encounter even further cruelty and injustice as bureaucratic corruption, greed, and foreign encroachment threatens their survival. In the face of indescribable suffering, these survivors channel the unwavering strength and resilience of the human spirit. This is an unforgettable and heartbreaking tale, laced with moments of profound wisdom and humor. Beah’s prose sparkle and dance with the hypnotic vocal rhythms and pacing of time-honored storytellers. Haunting. Powerful. Inspirational. A celebration of hope and the conviction that a little kindness goes a long way. It was a privilege to read this extraordinary novel before its release date. Many thanks to Goodreads First Reads and Penguin Canada. Congratulations to the author. I loved it!
January 13, 2021
This book was really good, written really beautifully, and so sad. It made me angry in a really futile and sad way about capitalism and colonialism. The mine got me thinking a lot about colonialism in Canada and exploitation and expulsion of Indigenous people. Definitely a bit paralyzing because things seem too convoluted to fix. Still a lot of deep joy throughout the book despite the constant downhill towards sadness.
April 6, 2017
If you think you’ve experienced the worst that a human being can bear, Ishmael Beah will show you how very wrong you are. Then, remarkably, he’ll share his hope for better and leave you feeling restored.
In Radiance of Tomorrow – just in case you didn’t get it, radiance = hope – Beah tells the story of several inhabitants of a small town called Imperi in the African nation of Lion Mountain (Sierra Leone) after they return home following a long, horrific civil war that has taken so many of the members of their family, their neighbors, and friends. After a brief, almost idyllic time home in Imperi, the real trouble starts. And therein lies the tale.
Let Ishmael Beah tell you the story. Suffice it to say here that this novel encompasses a wide range of African experiences during the period following decolonization, conveying the terror, the injustice, and the disappointment as well as the optimism that swept throughout the region below the Sahara over the past half-century. Read this book, and you’ll gain a foothold on understanding life in Sub-Saharan Africa.
Beah etches his characters on the reader’s mind. His prose sings, infused with the rhythms of the seven languages he speaks. Children and elders alike leap from the page fully formed, with vivid personalities and wholly understandable motives.
In a sense, Radiance of Tomorrow is a story about story-telling. Beah brings to life the oral tradition of West Africa and spotlights its central role in village society.
Radiance of Tomorrow is Beah’s first novel. It arrives seven years after his widely acclaimed memoir of his days as a child soldier, A Long Way Gone.
In Radiance of Tomorrow – just in case you didn’t get it, radiance = hope – Beah tells the story of several inhabitants of a small town called Imperi in the African nation of Lion Mountain (Sierra Leone) after they return home following a long, horrific civil war that has taken so many of the members of their family, their neighbors, and friends. After a brief, almost idyllic time home in Imperi, the real trouble starts. And therein lies the tale.
Let Ishmael Beah tell you the story. Suffice it to say here that this novel encompasses a wide range of African experiences during the period following decolonization, conveying the terror, the injustice, and the disappointment as well as the optimism that swept throughout the region below the Sahara over the past half-century. Read this book, and you’ll gain a foothold on understanding life in Sub-Saharan Africa.
Beah etches his characters on the reader’s mind. His prose sings, infused with the rhythms of the seven languages he speaks. Children and elders alike leap from the page fully formed, with vivid personalities and wholly understandable motives.
In a sense, Radiance of Tomorrow is a story about story-telling. Beah brings to life the oral tradition of West Africa and spotlights its central role in village society.
Radiance of Tomorrow is Beah’s first novel. It arrives seven years after his widely acclaimed memoir of his days as a child soldier, A Long Way Gone.
April 30, 2014
Powerful story. This book is simply a.must.read.
1) Poetic writing style: The writing style holds you from page 1. Many personifications, images and you see little by little everything- literally everything- brought to life. Magical.
2) Fascinating plot & characters: Every character has a role, an objective, a meaning. The story seems to be based on actual events that took place in Sierra Leone after the war and this too, makes it extremely interesting. You are reading fiction, yet, you will leave having learned some things.
3) An important book: Radiance of Tomorrow responds to the important question: what is there AFTER war? Is this just over and everything goes back to normal? The way Beah brings an answer to these central questions should be studied in international studies I believe.
4) The ending really grabbed me with its simplicity, maturity and realism.
This book will make you cry, laugh, wonder, get angry but more importantly, it will make you hope and this is probably what pushed me to go from 4 to 5 stars.
Everyone should read this book. Everyone.
1) Poetic writing style: The writing style holds you from page 1. Many personifications, images and you see little by little everything- literally everything- brought to life. Magical.
2) Fascinating plot & characters: Every character has a role, an objective, a meaning. The story seems to be based on actual events that took place in Sierra Leone after the war and this too, makes it extremely interesting. You are reading fiction, yet, you will leave having learned some things.
3) An important book: Radiance of Tomorrow responds to the important question: what is there AFTER war? Is this just over and everything goes back to normal? The way Beah brings an answer to these central questions should be studied in international studies I believe.
4) The ending really grabbed me with its simplicity, maturity and realism.
This book will make you cry, laugh, wonder, get angry but more importantly, it will make you hope and this is probably what pushed me to go from 4 to 5 stars.
Everyone should read this book. Everyone.
August 6, 2016
Ishmael Beah's biggest failing with this book is that it wasn't A Long Way Gone. Though, for a first novel, it was very good.
I imagine it is difficult to transition from writing a memoir to writing a novel. And no doubt his experiences are in this book. I also imagine it must have been quite a release/ quite freeing to write a story other than his life's story.
For a story about reconciliation, and picking up the pieces of a post-war country, my favorite parts were those of vigilantism revenge - usually taken out on the the corrupt members of West.
There are times Beah mentions the faults Africans as well as the Westerners. And there are only two types of Westerners in this book: those who have come to rape (both the land, and its people), and those whose misguided intentions to help only cause more suffering.
But the Africans Beah has a problem with are only the ones who have absorbed the mentality of The West. They're still not the ones to be blamed.
It's a point that's been made time and time again: we're fat and happy, and we don't know it. We have everything and we don't know it.
(Is it ironic or depressing that both of these images get printed on t-shirts?)
Maybe it's a point that cannot be made too often. I understand that this is The Hunger Games, and I'm living in The Capitol.
But I think there's also something to be said for romanticizing the past, native-culture, the simple-life, etc... and although it seemed like Beah made attempts to avoid this, he couldn't escape the temptation.
The West deserves blame, but its easy to cast all the blame on them.
(Now I'm being redundant as well...)
*Part of the book that really resonated with me was the perception of the Westerners who were there to help. I believe that sometimes cultural barriers are impenetrable. I've been in cars carrying 3 people flying past the slow Tap Taps with people hanging off the sides.
I refused to give a Haitian kid water one time because it was from the tap. He thought I was being a greedy jerk, and I thought it'd make him sick. (I'd gotten sick numerous times including Hep A at age 6 from eating a snow-cone off the street. ...Definitely worth it though: lime.)
I don't know of anyone who ever hit anyone while driving, but I remember hearing that if you "hit" someone to keep going. That people will sometimes come up to your car and hit it with their hand, and pretend to be injured.
Sometimes the problem is that people are evil. Sometimes the problem is that people don't understand one another.
I liked the book, and I liked the story of rebuilding and reconciliation, especially Sila and Sergeant Cutlass/Ernest, but I couldn't help but think the narrative was culturally one-sided.
Either way, I'm already looking forward to reading Beah's next book.
I imagine it is difficult to transition from writing a memoir to writing a novel. And no doubt his experiences are in this book. I also imagine it must have been quite a release/ quite freeing to write a story other than his life's story.
For a story about reconciliation, and picking up the pieces of a post-war country, my favorite parts were those of vigilantism revenge - usually taken out on the the corrupt members of West.
There are times Beah mentions the faults Africans as well as the Westerners. And there are only two types of Westerners in this book: those who have come to rape (both the land, and its people), and those whose misguided intentions to help only cause more suffering.
But the Africans Beah has a problem with are only the ones who have absorbed the mentality of The West. They're still not the ones to be blamed.
It's a point that's been made time and time again: we're fat and happy, and we don't know it. We have everything and we don't know it.
(Is it ironic or depressing that both of these images get printed on t-shirts?)
Maybe it's a point that cannot be made too often. I understand that this is The Hunger Games, and I'm living in The Capitol.
But I think there's also something to be said for romanticizing the past, native-culture, the simple-life, etc... and although it seemed like Beah made attempts to avoid this, he couldn't escape the temptation.
The West deserves blame, but its easy to cast all the blame on them.
(Now I'm being redundant as well...)
*Part of the book that really resonated with me was the perception of the Westerners who were there to help. I believe that sometimes cultural barriers are impenetrable. I've been in cars carrying 3 people flying past the slow Tap Taps with people hanging off the sides.
I refused to give a Haitian kid water one time because it was from the tap. He thought I was being a greedy jerk, and I thought it'd make him sick. (I'd gotten sick numerous times including Hep A at age 6 from eating a snow-cone off the street. ...Definitely worth it though: lime.)
I don't know of anyone who ever hit anyone while driving, but I remember hearing that if you "hit" someone to keep going. That people will sometimes come up to your car and hit it with their hand, and pretend to be injured.
Sometimes the problem is that people are evil. Sometimes the problem is that people don't understand one another.
I liked the book, and I liked the story of rebuilding and reconciliation, especially Sila and Sergeant Cutlass/Ernest, but I couldn't help but think the narrative was culturally one-sided.
Either way, I'm already looking forward to reading Beah's next book.
August 14, 2014
Beah's first book, the memoir "A Long Way Gone', depicted his life after he was impressed into the army during the civil war in Sierra Leone. It is a gut wrenching book and makes the reader wonder how this young man survived (both physically and mentally) in the milieu in which he was forced to act.
This book, a novel, is a great companion piece. The civil war has concluded and slowly people are returning to their villages only to find that their homes have been destroyed and that many of their friends and relatives have been killed. The government exists only to enrich those in power. The poor, the villagers, the working men and women must struggle harder than ever just to survive. Yet they do so with dignity and optimism in the face of overwhelming odds. Beah is a wonderful writer. He has the gift of allowing the reader to feel that s/he is there, in Sierra Leone, and struggling alongside his characters. Highly recommended.
Grade: A
This book, a novel, is a great companion piece. The civil war has concluded and slowly people are returning to their villages only to find that their homes have been destroyed and that many of their friends and relatives have been killed. The government exists only to enrich those in power. The poor, the villagers, the working men and women must struggle harder than ever just to survive. Yet they do so with dignity and optimism in the face of overwhelming odds. Beah is a wonderful writer. He has the gift of allowing the reader to feel that s/he is there, in Sierra Leone, and struggling alongside his characters. Highly recommended.
Grade: A
July 3, 2015
Radiance of tomorrow narrates the rejuvenation of Imperi, a village destroyed by war, and the return of its people to recreate their lives. However, in this season of recreation, other changes threaten the fragile life of Imperi.
Although the novel began rather slowly for my taste, I truly enjoyed it. From its expressive and poetic style to the refreshing narrative of revival, I soaked it all in. However, I was surprised that although the story began with Mama Kadie, Ishmael used other characters to complete the narrative. Also, throughout the novel, there were instances when I strongly felt the author's opinions being projected onto the characters and that was quite jostling.
In spite of its flaws, I really love the refreshing narrative of after-the-war. There aren't too many books that I've read about people trying to revive what is left of their town after it has been devastated by the war.
Although the novel began rather slowly for my taste, I truly enjoyed it. From its expressive and poetic style to the refreshing narrative of revival, I soaked it all in. However, I was surprised that although the story began with Mama Kadie, Ishmael used other characters to complete the narrative. Also, throughout the novel, there were instances when I strongly felt the author's opinions being projected onto the characters and that was quite jostling.
In spite of its flaws, I really love the refreshing narrative of after-the-war. There aren't too many books that I've read about people trying to revive what is left of their town after it has been devastated by the war.
September 12, 2016
I think this is an important story and I admire Beah's attempts to combine English with the sensibilities of his native tongue. But none of the characters really came alive for me. It read more like a litany of events - and very difficult events, as others have noted. So it didn't really do much for me and I was not sad that it ended! But I am glad to have a chance to glimpse the harshness of a reality that is so different from mine. This is the book's importance.
February 4, 2014
This book gets 5 stars based solely on the fact that it left me utterly devastated. Utterly.
December 11, 2024
The people of post-war Sierra Leone are trying to recover their past lives only to be further trod on by greedy countries wanting their mineral resources. So many obstacles put in their path, they are taken advantage of not only by the "white" man but their own people. Corruption everywhere but hope still lingers.
September 9, 2016
Radiance of Tomorrow: A Novel
by Ishmael Beah
5 stars
pp. 257
Any one who has read Ishmael Beah's heartbreaking memoir can attest to the fact that he is a compelling author. IHaving read his memoir, I had a great curiosity about his recently published novel about Sierra Leone. I wondered what kind of novelist he would be and now that I know I hope he continues writing both fiction and nonfiction as he has a gift.
In the Author's Note he explains the great tradition of storytelling in his native country and that his mother tongue Mende has a poetic way of speaking both of which he hopes to use in Radiance of Tomorrow:
Mende, is very expressive, very figurative, and when I write, I always struggle to find the English equivalent of things that I really want to say in Mende. For example, in Mende, you wouldn't say "night came suddenly"; you would say "the sky rolled over and changed its sides."
Beah is successful in his use of both the story telling techniques and his use of language it does in fact lull the reader, letting one forget the horrors of war and look for the radiance of tomorrow. This is a story of a people returning to their village and rebuilding, attempting to leave behind the sorrows and reclaim their home. The first to return to the village of Imepri are the elders, Mama Kadie and Pa Moiwa. The book begins:
"She was the first to arrive where it seemed the wind no longer exhaled. Several miles from town, the trees had entangled one another. Their branches grew toward the ground, burying the leaves in the soil to blind their eyes so the sun would not promise them tomorrow with its rays. It was only the path that was reluctant to cloak its surface completely with grasses, as though it anticipated it would soon end its starvation for the warmth of bare feet that gave it life.
The long and winding paths were spoken of as "snakes" that one walked upon to encounter life or to arrive at the places where life lived. Like snakes, the paths were now ready to shed their old skins for new ones, and such occurrences take time with the necessary interruptions. Today, her feet began one of those interruptions. It may be that those whose years have many seasons are always the first to rekindle their broken friendship with the land, or it may just have happened this way."
I wanted so much for the sorrows that I read of to be over. During the first third of the book, I found myself sobbing and yet so respectful of the spirit of these people who held so true to their essence through such difficult times, who revered their elders and look to them for guidance, who remained strangely quiet regarding the horrors of war to their children who were too young to know.
This time though the danger comes not from war but from a corporation involved in rutile mining, which is indeed a growing industry in Sierra Leone. We see the ways in which this corporation attacks the life and culture that the people of Imperi have so carefully rebuilt:
"The elders shake their heads with doubt, they knew they had to try, as there was more at stake than tradition. Tradition can live on only if those carrying it respect it—and live in conditions that allow the traditions to survive. Otherwise, traditions have a way of hiding inside people and leaving only dangerous footprints of confusion."
The story is both compelling and worrisome. It is not for someone who needs all the strings neatly tied and of course they are not neatly tied in Sierra Leone. I cannot help but admire Beah's skill as an author and sincerely hope to be reading more from him.
by Ishmael Beah
5 stars
pp. 257
Any one who has read Ishmael Beah's heartbreaking memoir can attest to the fact that he is a compelling author. IHaving read his memoir, I had a great curiosity about his recently published novel about Sierra Leone. I wondered what kind of novelist he would be and now that I know I hope he continues writing both fiction and nonfiction as he has a gift.
In the Author's Note he explains the great tradition of storytelling in his native country and that his mother tongue Mende has a poetic way of speaking both of which he hopes to use in Radiance of Tomorrow:
Mende, is very expressive, very figurative, and when I write, I always struggle to find the English equivalent of things that I really want to say in Mende. For example, in Mende, you wouldn't say "night came suddenly"; you would say "the sky rolled over and changed its sides."
Beah is successful in his use of both the story telling techniques and his use of language it does in fact lull the reader, letting one forget the horrors of war and look for the radiance of tomorrow. This is a story of a people returning to their village and rebuilding, attempting to leave behind the sorrows and reclaim their home. The first to return to the village of Imepri are the elders, Mama Kadie and Pa Moiwa. The book begins:
"She was the first to arrive where it seemed the wind no longer exhaled. Several miles from town, the trees had entangled one another. Their branches grew toward the ground, burying the leaves in the soil to blind their eyes so the sun would not promise them tomorrow with its rays. It was only the path that was reluctant to cloak its surface completely with grasses, as though it anticipated it would soon end its starvation for the warmth of bare feet that gave it life.
The long and winding paths were spoken of as "snakes" that one walked upon to encounter life or to arrive at the places where life lived. Like snakes, the paths were now ready to shed their old skins for new ones, and such occurrences take time with the necessary interruptions. Today, her feet began one of those interruptions. It may be that those whose years have many seasons are always the first to rekindle their broken friendship with the land, or it may just have happened this way."
I wanted so much for the sorrows that I read of to be over. During the first third of the book, I found myself sobbing and yet so respectful of the spirit of these people who held so true to their essence through such difficult times, who revered their elders and look to them for guidance, who remained strangely quiet regarding the horrors of war to their children who were too young to know.
This time though the danger comes not from war but from a corporation involved in rutile mining, which is indeed a growing industry in Sierra Leone. We see the ways in which this corporation attacks the life and culture that the people of Imperi have so carefully rebuilt:
"The elders shake their heads with doubt, they knew they had to try, as there was more at stake than tradition. Tradition can live on only if those carrying it respect it—and live in conditions that allow the traditions to survive. Otherwise, traditions have a way of hiding inside people and leaving only dangerous footprints of confusion."
The story is both compelling and worrisome. It is not for someone who needs all the strings neatly tied and of course they are not neatly tied in Sierra Leone. I cannot help but admire Beah's skill as an author and sincerely hope to be reading more from him.
November 6, 2013
*Sort of Spoilers*
I've loved Ishmael Beah's writing ever since I read his memoir A Long Way Gone back in college. His memoir was heart-breaking but an open look at child soldiers.
In Radiance of Tomorrow, readers are introduced to life after war. The residents of Imperi thought they would never be affected by war. All reports were that skirmishes were hundreds of miles away. However, their world is shattered one day during a "No Living Thing" raid. As the name suggests, no living thing is meant to survive. Men, women, children, elderly - everyone must die.
Readers learn all of this throughout the book. The story/novel begins seven years after the attack on Imperi when residents are beginning to return. Nothing is as it seems anymore. Two former residents spend days trying to rid Imperi of bones of the deceased. The question of whether or not your loved ones survived is constantly on their minds. Can they recognize their children or grandchildren by their bones?
What follows is a chilling account of the residents trying to return to the "old ways" of Imperi. Though they start a routine, it doesn't last long. A mining company moves in and the government ignores any complaints the residents make against the company. Radiance of Tomorrow is a startling look at how war is not just comprised of the battles fought, but also the rebuilding that comes after. Can a town/village/people/person every truly recover from war?
I know what I wanted this book to be when I started reading it. I wanted it to be reassurance that life gets better or easier after war. However, Beah accepts reality. Life is rarely ever easy and war is disastrous. His characters face the harsh reality that no one will save them, if they want life to change then they must make the changes. Life isn't easy, the difficulties just change.
I've loved Ishmael Beah's writing ever since I read his memoir A Long Way Gone back in college. His memoir was heart-breaking but an open look at child soldiers.
In Radiance of Tomorrow, readers are introduced to life after war. The residents of Imperi thought they would never be affected by war. All reports were that skirmishes were hundreds of miles away. However, their world is shattered one day during a "No Living Thing" raid. As the name suggests, no living thing is meant to survive. Men, women, children, elderly - everyone must die.
Readers learn all of this throughout the book. The story/novel begins seven years after the attack on Imperi when residents are beginning to return. Nothing is as it seems anymore. Two former residents spend days trying to rid Imperi of bones of the deceased. The question of whether or not your loved ones survived is constantly on their minds. Can they recognize their children or grandchildren by their bones?
What follows is a chilling account of the residents trying to return to the "old ways" of Imperi. Though they start a routine, it doesn't last long. A mining company moves in and the government ignores any complaints the residents make against the company. Radiance of Tomorrow is a startling look at how war is not just comprised of the battles fought, but also the rebuilding that comes after. Can a town/village/people/person every truly recover from war?
I know what I wanted this book to be when I started reading it. I wanted it to be reassurance that life gets better or easier after war. However, Beah accepts reality. Life is rarely ever easy and war is disastrous. His characters face the harsh reality that no one will save them, if they want life to change then they must make the changes. Life isn't easy, the difficulties just change.
October 5, 2015
Book & CD: 3.5 - This was a decent follow up to his memoir (A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier). Beah is is a great expressive writer and does a good job sharing how expressive his African language is and how it translates to English and describing the culture and day-to-day living. Plus the story was interesting and relative to his memoir. However, for me, it was too much of a downer. For his memoir, I was expecting that b/c of what he went through & it being during war time. However, with the bright yellow book & CD cover (yellow just says cheery, to me) AND the title itself (very positive sounding) PLUS w/summary indicating it was based on people returning to their village several years after war to rebuild, I was expecting a more inspirational and positive story. This was really about 90% negative and heartbreaking, esp. considering it was most likely based on a lot of real situations. I know things were horrible during the war, but I was amazed to learn how much corruption at all levels afterward as well. Yes, in U.S. we have corruption too, esp. in politics and some business and some individuals, BUT wow, I couldn't believe how across the board it was even in by teachers, principals, college, bus drivers, tailors as well as Head Chief, police, gov't, foreign businesses (glad they weren't Americans in this situation, but I'm there are bad apples that have taken advantage too. I do look forward to more positive work from Beah in the future.
Read
November 5, 2015Radiance of Tomorrow takes the reader on a journey to post civil war Sierra Leone through the author’s experiences as a dislocated child in the civil war. Instead of writing about his own experience as in his earlier biography Long Way Gone, he writes about two families who desperately try to survive the effects of post war in their small town community. Beah uses a beautifully descriptive writing style that he explains in the preface of the book. The Mende language is full of figurative imagery used throughout the book. Beah gives the reader a look into the hardships and anguish that exist because of the continued presence of racial prejudice and inequality as well as the desperation to survive. The characters show incredible adaptability as they encounter each new wave of struggle. As one character states at the end of the book, “The world is not ending today.” “You must cheer up if you want to keep living in it.” I highly recommend both books!
Find Radiance of Tomorrow and A Long Way Gone at Westminster Public Library today!
Find Radiance of Tomorrow and A Long Way Gone at Westminster Public Library today!
February 21, 2014
"It is the end, or maybe the beginning, of another story. Every story begins and ends with a woman, a mother, a grandmother, a girl, a child. Every story is a birth…"
Then in walks Mama Kadie. "She was the first to arrive where it seemed the wind no longer exhaled."
This is an extraordinary work of fiction. Beah understands deep in his African soul the power of the story. He tells us the story of the town of Imperi as it tries to come back to life after the civil war in Sierra Leone. We meet the deeply scarred, both physically and emotionally, citizens of Imperi as they slowly return but find nothing is the same. Sierra Leone is a lawless land where there is no longer respect for tradition or human life.
This is a beautiful and terrible story. It meanders. It takes you places you don't want to go. And at the end of each day all the inhabitants of Imperi are left with is the power of the story. "So they must find a way to repair their broken hearts by relighting the fire that is now dull within them." So ends the story told by Oumu. "This is what happens when old wisdom and new wisdom merge, and find room in the young."
"It is the end, or maybe the beginning, of another story. Every story begins and ends with a woman, a mother, a grandmother, a girl, a child. Every story is a birth…"
Then in walks Mama Kadie. "She was the first to arrive where it seemed the wind no longer exhaled."
This is an extraordinary work of fiction. Beah understands deep in his African soul the power of the story. He tells us the story of the town of Imperi as it tries to come back to life after the civil war in Sierra Leone. We meet the deeply scarred, both physically and emotionally, citizens of Imperi as they slowly return but find nothing is the same. Sierra Leone is a lawless land where there is no longer respect for tradition or human life.
This is a beautiful and terrible story. It meanders. It takes you places you don't want to go. And at the end of each day all the inhabitants of Imperi are left with is the power of the story. "So they must find a way to repair their broken hearts by relighting the fire that is now dull within them." So ends the story told by Oumu. "This is what happens when old wisdom and new wisdom merge, and find room in the young."
"It is the end, or maybe the beginning, of another story. Every story begins and ends with a woman, a mother, a grandmother, a girl, a child. Every story is a birth…"
July 28, 2014
I adore books like Khaled Hossein’si And the Mountains Echoed and Ishmael Beah’s The Radiance of Tomorrow. Both authors incorporate the oral tradition of a people as used by its elders to teach the younger generation the deeper meanings of life and they use it to instruct the reader for a richer understanding of a people and culture.
My favorite lines from The Radiance of Tomorrow
Tradition can live on only if those carrying it respect it – and live in conditions that allow the traditions to survive
Some might say their methods were violent. But what was more violent than making people disbelieve in the worth of their own lives? (This is the reason I will forever take the Palestinian side against Israel.)
But who can ever know what path to walk on when all of them are either crooked or broken? One just has to walk
We must live in the radiance of tomorrow, as our ancestors have suggested in their tales…..
He warned Bokarie to be careful in the city; he saw it as a place where people no longer heard the whispers o the past.
One has to be hopeful in every aspect of your life-your stride, your smile, and laugh when you can find it, even in your breath to be able to live in Freetown. These were the last words Bokarie’s father had whispered to him. Bokarie still felt his warm moving breath in his ears.
My favorite lines from The Radiance of Tomorrow
Tradition can live on only if those carrying it respect it – and live in conditions that allow the traditions to survive
Some might say their methods were violent. But what was more violent than making people disbelieve in the worth of their own lives? (This is the reason I will forever take the Palestinian side against Israel.)
But who can ever know what path to walk on when all of them are either crooked or broken? One just has to walk
We must live in the radiance of tomorrow, as our ancestors have suggested in their tales…..
He warned Bokarie to be careful in the city; he saw it as a place where people no longer heard the whispers o the past.
One has to be hopeful in every aspect of your life-your stride, your smile, and laugh when you can find it, even in your breath to be able to live in Freetown. These were the last words Bokarie’s father had whispered to him. Bokarie still felt his warm moving breath in his ears.
December 26, 2013
It took me awhile to get into this. The style is so different from the novels I love. I was lucky enough to see Ishmael Beah and hear him read from this book before I took it home, so after allowing the memory of the rhythm of his speech to overtake my reader voice, the lyricism and cadence of his storytelling was just intoxicating.
This book, to me, is important. There are parts that tore at my insides - I read them on the train with the flats of my fingers pressed to my mouth, holding in the wails of sorrow, or rage, that rose inside of me. There were moments that made me laugh, made me stop and look up and smile at the world around me, the sky through the window. Often, I lingered over scenes and sentences, stroking them lightly, just so pleased that they had been written and were now here. But it is important, too. It holds stories that are not told when we talk about a country's Progress and Development and Growth.
Beah says stories are meant to be told and passed on. If they are not, the stories die. Coming to the end of this book, despite the way its stories lived inside of me, the very dear and private way in which they imprinted on the lining of my heart, I am ready to share those stories, to see this novel thrive and flourish.
This book, to me, is important. There are parts that tore at my insides - I read them on the train with the flats of my fingers pressed to my mouth, holding in the wails of sorrow, or rage, that rose inside of me. There were moments that made me laugh, made me stop and look up and smile at the world around me, the sky through the window. Often, I lingered over scenes and sentences, stroking them lightly, just so pleased that they had been written and were now here. But it is important, too. It holds stories that are not told when we talk about a country's Progress and Development and Growth.
Beah says stories are meant to be told and passed on. If they are not, the stories die. Coming to the end of this book, despite the way its stories lived inside of me, the very dear and private way in which they imprinted on the lining of my heart, I am ready to share those stories, to see this novel thrive and flourish.
July 14, 2014
The realities of post-war Sierra Leone and the physical, spiritual and emotional scars that those who have survived the war have endured, are well captured in this book. Just when the village begins to recover from the war and re-establish some of their cultural agency - through village meetings, story telling, amid growing poverty, a new struggle emerges when those in power give long-term leases and special concessions to foreign mining companies. The village now faces a new war, in which they are almost powerless.
People die and the land is degraded, river streams are polluted and government officials are now surrounded by state police and company security when they address the people
This is a tale that may very well be told of many countries in the continent - about colonization - imperialism - civil war - and greed of those who lead and profit from the mineral wealth of the continent, at the expense of its people.
The deadly combination of profits and political power and how this impacts ordinary people is beautifully captured by Beah. All of this, a backdrop for a story of survival and love and the importance of family and how cultural legacies are passed down from one generation to the other
People die and the land is degraded, river streams are polluted and government officials are now surrounded by state police and company security when they address the people
This is a tale that may very well be told of many countries in the continent - about colonization - imperialism - civil war - and greed of those who lead and profit from the mineral wealth of the continent, at the expense of its people.
The deadly combination of profits and political power and how this impacts ordinary people is beautifully captured by Beah. All of this, a backdrop for a story of survival and love and the importance of family and how cultural legacies are passed down from one generation to the other
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