Very much the weakest link in the "African Childhood" trilogy, this book is rambling and diffuse in the extreme. The first two books are meant to be novels, and the final book a straight-up memoir of her life. None of them are that. In reality, we are told next to nothing about the author's life. Suddenly in this volume, she is married. Where did he come from? How did they meet? When and where did they marry? We are never told. It's all surface, gossip about other people's lives,"so I was told" and "it was said"-- thirdhand scuttlebutt mostly about people who were already dead when she wrote it, so no comeback. She skips merrily backward and forward in time from 1938 to 1983 by just turning a page. You could get whiplash from reading this book. She jumps from describing a female circumcision ceremony to discussing Karatina's "splendid" market and how everyone finds a native market so pleasant! with only a paragraph break to separate them. She also stupidly assigns the European ranks of duke and baron to "Amharic" (ie Ethiopian) officials.
As in the previous volumes, the countryside is described to the point of exhaustion, but there's no real story here. Fully one third of the book is comprised of endnotes, but that doesn't add any realism. The text itself could have done with a decent proofreader and editor. There are far too many commas, often misplaced. We are also treated to such jewels as tourists who "eat in an open-sided banda which has a hole in the side made by the trunk of an inquisitive elephant." Well, that's interesting. If the sides are open, is there a hole in midair?
The author seems to want to write about the process of Kenya gaining its independence; she talks out of both sides of her mouth about freedom and colonialism, but then "one man one vote" seems ridiculous for black Africans in her view. However, she can be just as snide about non-English whites as she is about blacks. One moment she is slating Jomo Kenyatta; the next he's her new best friend because he remembers her from a London course she took back when his first name was Johnston.
Putting a book on my "Currently Reading" status would appear to be the kiss of death. I felt obliged to finish it, but I also kept putting it down and reading other things (partly out of necessity, but I wasn't missing it.) I kept reading and reading, hoping for the story to go somewhere. Suddenly I turned a page and there were all those endnotes. Meh.
A star and a half.