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In the Company of Men
Two boys venture from their village to hunt in a nearby forest, where they shoot down bats with glee, and cook their prey over an open fire. Within a month, they are dead, bodies ravaged by an insidious disease that neither the local healer's potions nor the medical team's treatments could cure. Compounding the family's grief, experts warn against touching the sick. But this caution comes too late: the virus spreads rapidly, and the boys' father is barely able to send his eldest daughter away for a chance at survival.
135 pages, Paperback
First published August 17, 2017
55 people are currently reading
2067 people want to read
About the author
Véronique Tadjo
77 books59 followersVéronique Tadjo (born 1955) is a writer, poet, novelist, and artist from Côte d'Ivoire. Having lived and worked in many countries within the African continent and diaspora, she feels herself to be pan-African, in a way that is reflected in the subject matter, imagery and allusions of her work.
Born in Paris, Véronique Tadjo was the daughter of an Ivorian civil servant and a French painter and sculptor. Brought up in Abidjan, she travelled widely with her family.
Tadjo completed her BA degree at the University of Abidjan and her doctorate at the Sorbonne in African-American Literature and Civilization. In 1983, she went to Howard University in Washington, D.C., on a Fulbright research scholarship.
In 1979, Tadjo chose to teach English at the Lycée Moderne de Korhogo (secondary school) in the North of Côte d'Ivoire. She subsequently became a lecturer at the English department of the University of Abidjan until 1993.
In the past few years, she has facilitated workshops in writing and illustrating children's books in Mali, Benin, Chad, Haiti, Mauritius, French Guyana, Burundi, Rwanda and South Africa.
She has lived in Paris, Lagos, Mexico City, Nairobi and London. Tadjo is currently based in Johannesburg, where since 2007 she has been head of French Studies at the University of the Witwatersrand.
Tadjo received the Literary Prize of L'Agence de Cooperation Culturelle et Technique in 1983 and the UNICEF Prize in 1993 for Mamy Wata and the Monster, which was also chosen as one of Africa's 100 Best Books of the 20th Century, one of only four children's books selected. In 2005, Tadjo won the Grand prix littéraire d'Afrique noire.
(from Wikipedia)
Born in Paris, Véronique Tadjo was the daughter of an Ivorian civil servant and a French painter and sculptor. Brought up in Abidjan, she travelled widely with her family.
Tadjo completed her BA degree at the University of Abidjan and her doctorate at the Sorbonne in African-American Literature and Civilization. In 1983, she went to Howard University in Washington, D.C., on a Fulbright research scholarship.
In 1979, Tadjo chose to teach English at the Lycée Moderne de Korhogo (secondary school) in the North of Côte d'Ivoire. She subsequently became a lecturer at the English department of the University of Abidjan until 1993.
In the past few years, she has facilitated workshops in writing and illustrating children's books in Mali, Benin, Chad, Haiti, Mauritius, French Guyana, Burundi, Rwanda and South Africa.
She has lived in Paris, Lagos, Mexico City, Nairobi and London. Tadjo is currently based in Johannesburg, where since 2007 she has been head of French Studies at the University of the Witwatersrand.
Tadjo received the Literary Prize of L'Agence de Cooperation Culturelle et Technique in 1983 and the UNICEF Prize in 1993 for Mamy Wata and the Monster, which was also chosen as one of Africa's 100 Best Books of the 20th Century, one of only four children's books selected. In 2005, Tadjo won the Grand prix littéraire d'Afrique noire.
(from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 178 reviews
October 24, 2020
Difficult to read because of the subject matter but well-written and poetic.
March 6, 2022
This didn't seem like fiction to me; it read like non-fiction, which I'm not a big fan of reading in my spare time. I mean, I'm not against non-fiction; I read articles, I read the newspaper, and I'm quite knowledgeable about current events. But, when I sit down to relax with a book, I want it to be something I can escape into. Reading In the Company of Men was like reading an article in a scientific journal. An awful lot of information about Ebola was shared, and from many diverse perspectives - beginning with a Baobab tree, then from a Doctor, a Nurse, from various Ebola patients, and in the end, from the bat that may have been the origin of the virus. Although this might sound a bit 'cute', it was not. But it certainly wasn't as 'dry' as non-fiction can be. The book was O.K. It just wasn't what I'd expected, and was not, IMO, a "novel". However, I learned a lot and it was a quick read, so... nothing lost; all good.🙂
March 20, 2021
This beautifully written account of horror and hope is so deeply impressive that I had to pause every now and then to think and digest. It is a book full of raw beauty, stark emotions, compassion, wisdom, and unfathomable pain, and, yes, I am in awe of the author.
In the Company of Men is so much more than “just” a narrative of an Ebola outbreak. It shows us how everything is interconnected in this great web of life. If we don’t learn to be part of Nature as we were intended to be, if we keep disrupting this great web in which we are meant to be embedded, we are dooming not only ourselves as a species but the whole planet.
“Colonizing space with enormous rockets will almost certainly not be a lifeline for them [humans]. For if they haven’t learned to live here, how can they possibly survive in the distant Beyond?” Such is the hubris of man; we think ourselves superior to the rest of creation. Until a virus like Ebola comes along and shows us how utterly small and powerless we really are.
In the Company of Men is so much more than “just” a narrative of an Ebola outbreak. It shows us how everything is interconnected in this great web of life. If we don’t learn to be part of Nature as we were intended to be, if we keep disrupting this great web in which we are meant to be embedded, we are dooming not only ourselves as a species but the whole planet.
“Colonizing space with enormous rockets will almost certainly not be a lifeline for them [humans]. For if they haven’t learned to live here, how can they possibly survive in the distant Beyond?” Such is the hubris of man; we think ourselves superior to the rest of creation. Until a virus like Ebola comes along and shows us how utterly small and powerless we really are.
July 1, 2023
This was an interesting read about the Ebola epidemic that ravaged West Africa in 2013-2016. The author was born in France, the daughter of an Ivorian civil servant and a French artist, brought up in Côte d’Ivoire, and has lived in many places in Africa. The deadly outbreak began in Guinea, spread to Liberia, and then to Sierra Leone two months later. There were officially 28,646 suspected cases recorded with a final death toll of 11,323 and a case fatality of 40%, although these numbers were probably significantly higher in reality.
The story begins with two young boys hunting in the forest who catch and eat a bat, and die shortly afterwards. Tadjo uses multiple perspectives to tell her story, that of a grave-digger, a dedicated nurse, an exhausted doctor, a grieving mother. She even uses the perspective of the majestic baobab tree, the voice of the virus itself and the bat its host. The tale is engrossing, especially during the Covid-19 pandemic, with the hardships of isolation, the toll on families and the difficulties enforcing the behavioural shifts needed to beat the rampant spread of disease. There are also comments on foreign aid and systemic issues within the medical system. I found this a short but powerful read. 4.5 stars
The story begins with two young boys hunting in the forest who catch and eat a bat, and die shortly afterwards. Tadjo uses multiple perspectives to tell her story, that of a grave-digger, a dedicated nurse, an exhausted doctor, a grieving mother. She even uses the perspective of the majestic baobab tree, the voice of the virus itself and the bat its host. The tale is engrossing, especially during the Covid-19 pandemic, with the hardships of isolation, the toll on families and the difficulties enforcing the behavioural shifts needed to beat the rampant spread of disease. There are also comments on foreign aid and systemic issues within the medical system. I found this a short but powerful read. 4.5 stars
February 20, 2025
In the Company of Men is like nothing i’ve read before. This fable (maybe part non-fiction) set in West Africa (specific country unnamed) is about the Ebola crisis. Two boys go bat hunting in a nearby forest for a meal. They are found dead after a month and news of a strange disease along with precautions takes over the town. However, this comes a little to late as the virus spreads quickly to the city.
“This plaque is worse than war. A mother, a father, a son can become a mortal enemy”.
Tadjo carefully detailed the public health crisis in just under 150 pages but packs a punch. One of my favourite bits about the book is each chapter reads like reflections told from the perspective of various people. The nurse, doctor, volunteer, a couple, a child, government worker, a mother, mortuary worker, the community. She throws in a creative approach by involving the environment with chapters by the forest, the baobab tree, the bats are not left out neither is almighty Ebola. This double narrative by man and nature create a wholistic view for the reader. I also like that Tadjo did not shy away from the elephant in the room, she highlights the world’s treatment of Africa during the crisis and brings it home to address the state of healthcare, corruption and how man through capitalism disrupts nature.
The writing is pristine and so gentle it makes the story compassionate. Because it is not enough to know an epidemic like Ebola ravaged countries, books like this are important in portraying how it affected the people, humanising their struggle and triumph through such a dark time.
“This plaque is worse than war. A mother, a father, a son can become a mortal enemy”.
Tadjo carefully detailed the public health crisis in just under 150 pages but packs a punch. One of my favourite bits about the book is each chapter reads like reflections told from the perspective of various people. The nurse, doctor, volunteer, a couple, a child, government worker, a mother, mortuary worker, the community. She throws in a creative approach by involving the environment with chapters by the forest, the baobab tree, the bats are not left out neither is almighty Ebola. This double narrative by man and nature create a wholistic view for the reader. I also like that Tadjo did not shy away from the elephant in the room, she highlights the world’s treatment of Africa during the crisis and brings it home to address the state of healthcare, corruption and how man through capitalism disrupts nature.
The writing is pristine and so gentle it makes the story compassionate. Because it is not enough to know an epidemic like Ebola ravaged countries, books like this are important in portraying how it affected the people, humanising their struggle and triumph through such a dark time.
November 22, 2021
This creative and compassionate work takes on various personae to plot the course of the Ebola outbreak in West Africa in 2014–16: a doctor, a nurse, a morgue worker, bereaved family members and browbeaten survivors. The suffering is immense, and there are ironic situations that only compound the tragedy: the funeral of a traditional medicine woman became a super-spreader event; those who survive are shunned by their family members. Tadjo flows freely between all the first-person voices, even including non-human narrators such as baobab trees and the fruit bat in which the virus likely originated (then spreading to humans via the consumption of the so-called bush meat). Local legends and songs, along with a few of her own poems, also enter into the text.
This would make a really interesting play because it is so voice-driven and each character epitomizes a different facet of a collective experience. Of course, I couldn’t help but think of the parallels with Covid – “you have to keep your distance from other people, stay at home, and wash your hands with disinfectant before entering a public space” – none of which could have been in the author’s mind when this was first composed. Let’s hope we’ll soon be able to join in cries similar to “It’s over! It’s over! … Death has brushed past us, but we have survived! Bye-bye, Ebola!”
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
This would make a really interesting play because it is so voice-driven and each character epitomizes a different facet of a collective experience. Of course, I couldn’t help but think of the parallels with Covid – “you have to keep your distance from other people, stay at home, and wash your hands with disinfectant before entering a public space” – none of which could have been in the author’s mind when this was first composed. Let’s hope we’ll soon be able to join in cries similar to “It’s over! It’s over! … Death has brushed past us, but we have survived! Bye-bye, Ebola!”
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
October 5, 2021
I echo many other skeptical reviews here--the use of multiple narrators (a baobab tree, nurses and doctors, patients, Ebola itself) ended up being a wasted opportunity because the styles and voices are mostly the same. Not much would have changed had the whole novel been narrated by the same figure!
Furthermore, the constant references to concrete details of the Ebola crisis--how international aid works, how the virus transmits, what government officials are saying and doing--makes this feel much more like a work of reportage but without the benefit of the voice of a reporter (see the works of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, especially Chronicle of a Death Foretold, for reportage novels with the voice of a reporter done right). It's odd hearing a virus and a tree talking about international symposiums and global geopolitics. I feel that this book was explicitly written to explain the Ebola epidemic to Westerners rather than be a really sophisticated work of fiction.
Furthermore, the constant references to concrete details of the Ebola crisis--how international aid works, how the virus transmits, what government officials are saying and doing--makes this feel much more like a work of reportage but without the benefit of the voice of a reporter (see the works of Gabriel Garcia Marquez, especially Chronicle of a Death Foretold, for reportage novels with the voice of a reporter done right). It's odd hearing a virus and a tree talking about international symposiums and global geopolitics. I feel that this book was explicitly written to explain the Ebola epidemic to Westerners rather than be a really sophisticated work of fiction.
March 2, 2021
The author gives voice to Ebola thru people, the face of disaster, animals, and communities. A powerful testament to the horrors unleashed by pandemics.
November 10, 2024
reading this short novel about ebola after having lived through similar scenarios because of covid-19 is scary and eye-opening.
it's written in a very simple style, because the idea isn't really to marvel at the writing style as it is to read all of these different accounts in what looks like a diary of different people who have come in contact with the disease: mother, a nurse, a doctor, a volunteer, someone who got better, someone who didn't. and we even have some interesting povs like: the old tree, the bat, and the disasese itself.
a very important read!
it's written in a very simple style, because the idea isn't really to marvel at the writing style as it is to read all of these different accounts in what looks like a diary of different people who have come in contact with the disease: mother, a nurse, a doctor, a volunteer, someone who got better, someone who didn't. and we even have some interesting povs like: the old tree, the bat, and the disasese itself.
a very important read!
October 29, 2021
I really enjoyed the writing and message of this book but by the end I found that it got a bit repetitive. It was a great mix of different people's experiences of the ebola epidemic in West Africa. I loved the sections written from the perspective of the Baobab tree and the bats but I felt like I would have connected with it more if the human perspectives had had some more depth.
March 11, 2021
After deliberating a few days, I can't say I enjoy this book more than an "it was ok." I appreciated its non-(almost anti-)linear structure, the commitment to depicting the plural and asynchronous nature of epidemics, but I didn't feel the style served the structure. It's a very flat voice that permeates through the book, ranging only in how fevered the pitch is, so that a depressed poet sounds precisely like the virus that killed his fiance in all but timbre. I like what Lindsay Semel says in her review:
This is my exact complaint framed as a compliment. I found the erasure of the boundary between nature and humans at odds with the anthropomorphizing. It's an example for me, along with Ledgard's Giraffe and de Sospiro's The Story of Yew, of how directly giving non-humans a voice turns them into exposition for anthropocentric concerns. It looks like an attempt to use the realist tradition to build a vaguely magical realist world. But magical realism depends on rejecting that anthropocentric voice. That's why it looks magical. Realism is a eurocentric/imperialist tradition that treats all other perceptions of reality as unreal. I suppose that's how I'd formulate my ambivalence about the book, anyway.
The fact that the book is very short and very readable would have me recommend it, nevertheless.
This artistic act exposes the cyclical nature of history, rejecting notions of separation between art and life just as the text itself rejects notions of the separation between human and nature, past and present, one country and another. The conversation between Tadjo and herself mirrors the conversation between the natural world and itself, humanity and our own history and future.
This is my exact complaint framed as a compliment. I found the erasure of the boundary between nature and humans at odds with the anthropomorphizing. It's an example for me, along with Ledgard's Giraffe and de Sospiro's The Story of Yew, of how directly giving non-humans a voice turns them into exposition for anthropocentric concerns. It looks like an attempt to use the realist tradition to build a vaguely magical realist world. But magical realism depends on rejecting that anthropocentric voice. That's why it looks magical. Realism is a eurocentric/imperialist tradition that treats all other perceptions of reality as unreal. I suppose that's how I'd formulate my ambivalence about the book, anyway.
The fact that the book is very short and very readable would have me recommend it, nevertheless.
March 20, 2021
Thank you Other Press for a complimentary copy. I voluntarily reviewed this book. All opinions expressed are my own.
In The Company Of Men
By: Veronique Tadjo
REVIEW ☆☆☆☆☆
The Baobab tree tells us:
"But when men murder us, they must know that they are breaking the chains of existence. Animals can no longer find food. Bats can no longer find food, can no longer find the wild fruit they like so much. Then they migrate to the villages, where there are mango, guava, papaya, and avocado trees...The bats seek the company of men."
More to follow!
In The Company Of Men
By: Veronique Tadjo
REVIEW ☆☆☆☆☆
The Baobab tree tells us:
"But when men murder us, they must know that they are breaking the chains of existence. Animals can no longer find food. Bats can no longer find food, can no longer find the wild fruit they like so much. Then they migrate to the villages, where there are mango, guava, papaya, and avocado trees...The bats seek the company of men."
More to follow!
March 31, 2024
absolutely blown away by this. just a really beautiful analysis of the amorality & indifference of nature; the intricacies of life and death; the need to blend science & culture — the facts of the world and the beliefs of our societies — to establish a better defense against disease destruction... in essence, humans are the virus; human nature is what needs to be confronted and conquered.
overall, really loved this. i loved the way it was written, the change of voices & perspectives.
overall, really loved this. i loved the way it was written, the change of voices & perspectives.
July 14, 2025
An interesting way to learn about the Ebola pandemic in West Africa in 2014. Highly Recommend
January 9, 2023
This was so painful 😣. Tadjo is a brilliant writer because she captures the horror, pain and grief of the Ebola epidemic in this book. Even more brilliant is how she uses such non-traditional perspectives (e.g the baobab tree, bat, even the Ebola virus). I enjoyed this one quite much, even as painful as it was.
October 3, 2020
Véronique Tadjo a trouvé Ubuntu là où on peut croire que l’espoir n’est plus. Dans ce roman, écrit comme un conte d’enfants, mais ciblant des adultes, elle nous amène sur des montagnes russes avec des haut très haut et des bas encore plus profonds.
Je lisais ce bouquin dans un paysage magnifique – la ou le fleuve Tugela tombe dans l’Océan Indien. C’est beau. Mais a peine 10 km ou je tape ses mots, il y a des centres médicaux avec plus ou moins les mêmes approvisionnements que les cliniques qui se trouvent dans les pays frappes par Ébola dans son livre. Pour les mêmes raisons. C’est l’Afrique, et les voleurs au pouvoir regardent souvent les fonds pour les soins médicales comme le gros lot d’une loterie personnel ou chaque billet est un billet gagnant.
Une chance qu’il y ait des infirmières, des médecins, et des citoyens lambda qui sont là pour restaurer notre foi dans les êtres humains. En Compagnie des Hommes est un roman, mais il y a très peu de fiction en dedans. Bravo Véronique.
Je lisais ce bouquin dans un paysage magnifique – la ou le fleuve Tugela tombe dans l’Océan Indien. C’est beau. Mais a peine 10 km ou je tape ses mots, il y a des centres médicaux avec plus ou moins les mêmes approvisionnements que les cliniques qui se trouvent dans les pays frappes par Ébola dans son livre. Pour les mêmes raisons. C’est l’Afrique, et les voleurs au pouvoir regardent souvent les fonds pour les soins médicales comme le gros lot d’une loterie personnel ou chaque billet est un billet gagnant.
Une chance qu’il y ait des infirmières, des médecins, et des citoyens lambda qui sont là pour restaurer notre foi dans les êtres humains. En Compagnie des Hommes est un roman, mais il y a très peu de fiction en dedans. Bravo Véronique.
January 14, 2022
It's interesting (that feels like such a ghoulish word to use here) how epidemics/pandemics take the same shape as they move through humanity. The disbelief, the conspiracies, the panic, the gung ho "we'll get through this soon enough" phase, the eventual burnout and laxity in protective measures...etc. This was an eye opener in terms of the 2013-16 Ebola epidemic and epidemic/pandemic patterns in general. Would recommend.
July 7, 2022
A fictional story that feels like non-fiction because it goes so in-depth into the Ebola crises in Africa and how it all worked. Beautifully written and told through the perspective of a volunteer at a medical camp, it shows what it was like for staff, patients, and the community during this time.
May 15, 2021
One of the interesting aspects of the way readers have responded to the pandemic is that some were so discombobulated that they said they couldn't read at all; some resorted to 'comfort reading'; some devoured books about plagues such as Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks and The Plague by Albert Camus; and others like me went out of their way to escape into other times and places where pandemics had no place. So I am not quite sure what motivated me to buy a recent release from poet, novelist, academic and artist Véronique Tadjo from Côte d'Ivoire...
In the Company of Men is, in the words of blurber Christopher Merrill:
Anyway, the book arrived from Readings, and it went on top of the T pile that has burst its banks on the shelves, and in a feeble attempt to stave off the threat of the pile toppling onto the floor, I took the first book from the top and started reading without really intending to read it now.
Sometimes, it's really good to be wrong about things, and I'm glad I didn't defer reading In the Company of Men. Yes, there are distressing scenes, but they are not the entire focus of the novel, which is more about the issues that arise when highly transmissible diseases spread out of control.
Still, it's confronting to read in Chapter II about the innocence of two boys larking about in the forest, who hunt and kill a bat and eat the bushmeat over a log fire, and are at death's door a month later. Most confronting of all is the response of the nurse:
This novella was first published in 2017 in the wake of the Ebola outbreak in West Africa (2014-16). Although there had been outbreaks of catastrophically infectious diseases such SARS (2003) in China and MERS (2012) in the Middle East, for most of us the horror of this scene is something that happened somewhere else. But now we are all familiar with reports of people dying alone, or nursed without human touch by people shrouded in plastic. We have seen the grief of those unable to hold their loved ones and comfort them as they die. We have learned that risking infection is not a matter of personal choice; preventative behaviours are mandated by law.
The novel, however, is not just a melancholy narrative about suffering and grief. It explores the way people respond to events like this. Part of the novel is narrated by Baobab, the first tree, which keeps the memory of centuries gone by, whether bruised or blessed by the gods. It witnessed the damage done to nature and the way mankind has altered the equilibrium of the world. It witnessed the way the rest of the world did it best to stay away while the epidemic wreaked devastation on Africa, a cradle of untold suffering. It saw courage too, men, women and children determined to fight for their own survival and that of others [...] people who did not think twice about offering help. The narratives also include an exhausted doctor, haunted by the death of a child; and a nurse who recognises that it's women who are the worst affected [...] because it usually falls on them to care for the sick and they're the last to leave home and seek treatment. She makes the connection between government choices and her ability to practise her profession:
Here in Australia at the advent of C_19, we were shocked to learn that we did not have enough ventilators and that we might not even have enough beds. We no longer had the capacity to manufacture vaccines. We were unprepared, we did not have what we needed, and there were delays in getting supplies. After years of economic rationalism, it was the same all over the world.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2021/05/15/i...
In the Company of Men is, in the words of blurber Christopher Merrill:
A spellbinding narrative about the roots and ravages of an Ebola outbreak and a reminder that deadly new diseases spreading from humankind's encroachment on the natural world recognises no borders, political parties or faiths...essential reading.
Anyway, the book arrived from Readings, and it went on top of the T pile that has burst its banks on the shelves, and in a feeble attempt to stave off the threat of the pile toppling onto the floor, I took the first book from the top and started reading without really intending to read it now.
Sometimes, it's really good to be wrong about things, and I'm glad I didn't defer reading In the Company of Men. Yes, there are distressing scenes, but they are not the entire focus of the novel, which is more about the issues that arise when highly transmissible diseases spread out of control.
Still, it's confronting to read in Chapter II about the innocence of two boys larking about in the forest, who hunt and kill a bat and eat the bushmeat over a log fire, and are at death's door a month later. Most confronting of all is the response of the nurse:
He said to the father: "Whatever you do, stay away from your children. Don't touch them, don't dry their tears. Don't take them in your arms. Keep your distance from them. You're in serious danger. I'll call in my team." He scribbled a brief report in his notebook and hurried away to alert his superiors. But the mother didn't budge from her children's bedside. She wept as she caressed their faces and gave them sips of water to drink. (p.6)
This novella was first published in 2017 in the wake of the Ebola outbreak in West Africa (2014-16). Although there had been outbreaks of catastrophically infectious diseases such SARS (2003) in China and MERS (2012) in the Middle East, for most of us the horror of this scene is something that happened somewhere else. But now we are all familiar with reports of people dying alone, or nursed without human touch by people shrouded in plastic. We have seen the grief of those unable to hold their loved ones and comfort them as they die. We have learned that risking infection is not a matter of personal choice; preventative behaviours are mandated by law.
The novel, however, is not just a melancholy narrative about suffering and grief. It explores the way people respond to events like this. Part of the novel is narrated by Baobab, the first tree, which keeps the memory of centuries gone by, whether bruised or blessed by the gods. It witnessed the damage done to nature and the way mankind has altered the equilibrium of the world. It witnessed the way the rest of the world did it best to stay away while the epidemic wreaked devastation on Africa, a cradle of untold suffering. It saw courage too, men, women and children determined to fight for their own survival and that of others [...] people who did not think twice about offering help. The narratives also include an exhausted doctor, haunted by the death of a child; and a nurse who recognises that it's women who are the worst affected [...] because it usually falls on them to care for the sick and they're the last to leave home and seek treatment. She makes the connection between government choices and her ability to practise her profession:
I can't say exactly how it happened. How it was that my colleagues and I slowly, gradually, let our standards slip. We started to compromise. We began turning a blind eye to negligence. We had no choice but to let our patients know that there was no more cotton wool, no more alcohol disinfectant, no more syringes, no more suturing thread. It was up to them to buy those things, to send their family members to the nearest pharmacy in order to get what was needed. At the same time, we knew perfectly well just by looking at them that they'd never be able to pay for even half of it. They'd go to the pharmacy, but once they got to the cash register, they'd end up buying just the minimum, or just the cheapest items.
We took to the streets, staging public protests in order to force the government to adopt reforms. All in vain. (pp.47-8)
Here in Australia at the advent of C_19, we were shocked to learn that we did not have enough ventilators and that we might not even have enough beds. We no longer had the capacity to manufacture vaccines. We were unprepared, we did not have what we needed, and there were delays in getting supplies. After years of economic rationalism, it was the same all over the world.
To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2021/05/15/i...
August 2, 2023
Told in short chapters, this is the multi-perspective look at the Ebola crisis in West Africa, through the perspectives of the changing landscape, various people who become infected with the virus and those whose loved ones have succumbed to it. Eventually, the narrative follows the virus itself.
I found the writing to be very descriptive and immersive, highlighting the evolving African lifestyle and how it both triggers and is affected by politics and changing culture.
I'd recommend this one to anyone interested in how geopolitics and modern African
I found the writing to be very descriptive and immersive, highlighting the evolving African lifestyle and how it both triggers and is affected by politics and changing culture.
I'd recommend this one to anyone interested in how geopolitics and modern African
January 1, 2023
4.5 stars
November 10, 2021
Kind of spooky to read this in the middle of dealing with Covid-19, definitely some overlapping sentiments and themes to the Ebola epidemic.
May 12, 2021
Absolutely loved this book: https://www.ecolitbooks.com/2021/05/0...
November 8, 2025
Strangely muted for a book about such a horrific event in human history. This is a slim book, elegiac, with each short chapter featuring a different narrator: a nurse, a volunteer, a baobab tree, a bat... but each has the same tone: strangely flat, with a bit of preachiness. Why would a baobab tree talk like a bat who talks like a nurse who talks with minimal emotion about ebola? I think the bat might be a bit more upset really.
December 22, 2021
I don't really know what to make of this book. In some ways it wasn't that great, sometimes a bit boring, but at other times what the author tried to do worked well.
Véronique Tadjo is a writer from Côte d'Ivoire of poetry, novels and children's books. One of her children's books is listed in the 100 Best African Writing of the 20th century https://www.african-writing.com/seven...
Here she has written the story of the 2014 - 2016 Ebola epidemic that scoured West African countries of Guinea, Sierra Leone and Liberia. It has been translated from French to English by John Cullen, who also translated Yasmina Khadra's Swallows of Kabul which I read some years ago. I listen to this on the Audible veriosn narrated by Je Nie Fleming and I have to say I did not enjoy this narration, I found her American intonation very off putting.
As for the book itself, it is a strange compilation of essentially first person narratives from various people who experienced the Ebola outbreak including a carrier of the disease, nurse, a person who buries the dead, a survivor, a nurse, the evacuated infected volunteer, the scientist, the adopter of child survivors, the poet who lost his financée. There are also first person narrative chapters by the Baobab tree, the Virus itself and the Bat. For those of us who followed this event on the TV News as it happened from the safety of our homes we will recognise all the stories.
For me the work was a bit too sprawling, and it wasn't until the final chapters that it rose up and she really found her voice, particularly the chapter by the Virus and by the much maligned Bat. She caught the right mood there, decrying Man, our interaction with Nature, raising questions about global aid, how to face similar impending crises, how to rebuild.
I think it was an ambitious structure to attempt and clearly based on research and interviews. It is not a non fiction book and doesn't read like one although other reviewers have mentioned it read as such to them. It is a very creative piece which doesn't on the whole come off as well as it might have, which is a shame considering the parts that do within its short 160 pages .
Véronique Tadjo is a writer from Côte d'Ivoire of poetry, novels and children's books. One of her children's books is listed in the 100 Best African Writing of the 20th century https://www.african-writing.com/seven...
Here she has written the story of the 2014 - 2016 Ebola epidemic that scoured West African countries of Guinea, Sierra Leone and Liberia. It has been translated from French to English by John Cullen, who also translated Yasmina Khadra's Swallows of Kabul which I read some years ago. I listen to this on the Audible veriosn narrated by Je Nie Fleming and I have to say I did not enjoy this narration, I found her American intonation very off putting.
As for the book itself, it is a strange compilation of essentially first person narratives from various people who experienced the Ebola outbreak including a carrier of the disease, nurse, a person who buries the dead, a survivor, a nurse, the evacuated infected volunteer, the scientist, the adopter of child survivors, the poet who lost his financée. There are also first person narrative chapters by the Baobab tree, the Virus itself and the Bat. For those of us who followed this event on the TV News as it happened from the safety of our homes we will recognise all the stories.
For me the work was a bit too sprawling, and it wasn't until the final chapters that it rose up and she really found her voice, particularly the chapter by the Virus and by the much maligned Bat. She caught the right mood there, decrying Man, our interaction with Nature, raising questions about global aid, how to face similar impending crises, how to rebuild.
I think it was an ambitious structure to attempt and clearly based on research and interviews. It is not a non fiction book and doesn't read like one although other reviewers have mentioned it read as such to them. It is a very creative piece which doesn't on the whole come off as well as it might have, which is a shame considering the parts that do within its short 160 pages .
February 20, 2021
A work of literary fiction based on the experiences of the victims, survivors, nurses, doctors, sanitation specialists, animals, and trees that witnessed the West African Ebola virus epidemic of 2014 to 2016. The perspectives of each of these individuals (which total 15 and range from the everlasting Baobab tree and the bat who "let Ebola escape from my belly" to the loved ones of people dying and the individual who has to spray every surface--including corpses--with a chlorine solution) are poignant and well-developed. The reader can clearly feel the emotions being expressed, the anger, fear, and unintentional ignorance. The content is dark but with purpose.
It was an especially difficult experience reading this in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. I of course do not know the horrors of the Ebola virus and I can only sympathize with the individuals who were affected by this horrific outbreak. But some of expressions, thoughts, and phrases used in In the Company of Men have been so affecting, it's hard to see anything but the connection. My favorite quote from the book comes from the Bat's section:
The end of the world. Why does disease make it seem so imminent?
**I received an eARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Big thanks to NetGalley and the publisher!
It was an especially difficult experience reading this in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. I of course do not know the horrors of the Ebola virus and I can only sympathize with the individuals who were affected by this horrific outbreak. But some of expressions, thoughts, and phrases used in In the Company of Men have been so affecting, it's hard to see anything but the connection. My favorite quote from the book comes from the Bat's section:
Humans need to recognize that they're part of the world, that there's a close bond between them and all other living creatures, great and small. Instead of trying to rise above their earthly origins. Instead of wanting to conceal the presence of death by dint of ever-more-sophisticated inventions. Instead of turning a blind eye to the sufferings of life, they should learn to prepare for them and to accept the joy of being in the world. Conscious, once and for all, of the danger they pose to their own species as well as to the entire biosphere, they should make use of their great intelligence to prevent the end of the world.
The end of the world. Why does disease make it seem so imminent?
**I received an eARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. Big thanks to NetGalley and the publisher!
March 7, 2021
3.5 stars. Received as a review copy from Edelweiss. Set in the Ebola epidemic, the reader gets snapshots from various people and nature itself regarding the effect of man on nature and then nature on man in the form of Ebola. The writing is beauty itself. The different viewpoints give a complete view of the Ebola crisis on those involved; however, there are so many viewpoints that it is difficult to feel attached to any one of them.
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March 14, 2021I think the strongest parts of this novel are the ones that come from nature rather than people, but it's overall poetic and poignant and well done. It's damning without being accusatory, which is an achievement, or at the very least it's new to me because I haven't read a lot of books in this vein.
April 13, 2021
I didn't love this book. It is written well, but the tone is rather detached. It's also so close to nonfiction, that I actually would have preferred nonfiction essays of real people who had been involved in Ebola rather than fictionalized accounts.
April 27, 2021
An ebola fable set in WEST AFRICA
This is not a novel, and yet neither is it a work of pure non-fiction. Instead it’s a fable, a collection of snapshots from various viewpoints to lay bare the devastating impact of the 2014 Ebola outbreak in West Africa.
Two young boys wander from their village to hunt in an ancient nearby forest. Their aim is tragically true and the bats they kill are cooked over an open fire back in the village. Shortly afterwards, the Ebola virus rampages through Western Africa, infecting and killing many people over the next few years, mainly in Guinea, Liberia and Sierra Leone.
The author portrays the story of the epidemic through a series of moving vignettes, some told by humans, some by natural characters, including the deadly virus itself, all combining to give a chilling voice to the disaster.
A doctor, dealing with disease and death every day, wondering when he’ll see his family again; a nurse, whose own daughter is ignored and isolated at school; a student volunteering as a gravedigger, not for money but out of love for his country; a mother, wanting only to die at home, with ‘the pain binding me to my children like an umbilical cord‘; a rare survivor, shunned by family and community, who tries to give hope to others struck down; and the engaged couple, one testing positive, one negative, one living, one dying: ‘I fear death, but not so much for myself. I’m more afraid of losing the one I love. The one who gave me back my will to live.‘
Book-ending these very human stories we hear from the ancient Baobab tree in the forest, and – most chillingly – from the deadly virus:
‘I’m a virus thousands of years old. I belong to the large family of the Filoviridae. People have known about me for only forty years or so. Nevertheless, I’ve been around for a very long time in this extraordinary forest, referred to as “primeval”, where everything has remained pristine since the beginning of time.’
‘It’s not me that has changed. It’s humankind which has changed direction. The lives men lead today are no longer the lives the Old Ones led. They’ve become more demanding, greedier, more predatory. Their appetites are limitless.’
The book only has 123 pages but packs a mighty emotional punch, and clearly has some resonance with the global Coronavirus pandemic we are fighting today. The original French text – the author was born in France and brought up in the Ivory Coast – was written in 2017, but as Véronique observes when asked if she has re-evaluated the book in the light of COVID-19:
‘In 2017 there was no idea about COVID-19, so in this sense the two situations are not comparable.However, there are striking similarities: the isolation and the loneliness that the pandemic brings; the tearing apart of family ties; the scars that it is leaving on the vulnerable; the issue of trust in government; the violence and resistance at times; the heavy burden on the medical profession; the economic crisis.’
This is not a novel, and yet neither is it a work of pure non-fiction. Instead it’s a fable, a collection of snapshots from various viewpoints to lay bare the devastating impact of the 2014 Ebola outbreak in West Africa.
Two young boys wander from their village to hunt in an ancient nearby forest. Their aim is tragically true and the bats they kill are cooked over an open fire back in the village. Shortly afterwards, the Ebola virus rampages through Western Africa, infecting and killing many people over the next few years, mainly in Guinea, Liberia and Sierra Leone.
The author portrays the story of the epidemic through a series of moving vignettes, some told by humans, some by natural characters, including the deadly virus itself, all combining to give a chilling voice to the disaster.
A doctor, dealing with disease and death every day, wondering when he’ll see his family again; a nurse, whose own daughter is ignored and isolated at school; a student volunteering as a gravedigger, not for money but out of love for his country; a mother, wanting only to die at home, with ‘the pain binding me to my children like an umbilical cord‘; a rare survivor, shunned by family and community, who tries to give hope to others struck down; and the engaged couple, one testing positive, one negative, one living, one dying: ‘I fear death, but not so much for myself. I’m more afraid of losing the one I love. The one who gave me back my will to live.‘
Book-ending these very human stories we hear from the ancient Baobab tree in the forest, and – most chillingly – from the deadly virus:
‘I’m a virus thousands of years old. I belong to the large family of the Filoviridae. People have known about me for only forty years or so. Nevertheless, I’ve been around for a very long time in this extraordinary forest, referred to as “primeval”, where everything has remained pristine since the beginning of time.’
‘It’s not me that has changed. It’s humankind which has changed direction. The lives men lead today are no longer the lives the Old Ones led. They’ve become more demanding, greedier, more predatory. Their appetites are limitless.’
The book only has 123 pages but packs a mighty emotional punch, and clearly has some resonance with the global Coronavirus pandemic we are fighting today. The original French text – the author was born in France and brought up in the Ivory Coast – was written in 2017, but as Véronique observes when asked if she has re-evaluated the book in the light of COVID-19:
‘In 2017 there was no idea about COVID-19, so in this sense the two situations are not comparable.However, there are striking similarities: the isolation and the loneliness that the pandemic brings; the tearing apart of family ties; the scars that it is leaving on the vulnerable; the issue of trust in government; the violence and resistance at times; the heavy burden on the medical profession; the economic crisis.’
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