Raj

by Abdulrazak Gurnah, Vladimir D. Janković (Translator), Marija Pavićević (Translator)

Najpoznatije delo Abdulrazaka Gurne, dobitnika Nobelove nagrade za 2021. godinu

Uoči Prvog svetskog rata, dvanaestogodišnjeg Jusufa otac je prodao kako bi otplatio dug. Dečak sa sela sada radi za „strica“ Aziza u gradiću na urbanizovanoj obali Istočne Afrike – u čudesnom novom svetu u kom crni muslimani žive u krhkoj, ali rigidnoj društvenoj hijerarhiji zajedno s Arapima, hrišćanskim misionarima i indijskim doseljenicima.

Jusuf se otiskuje na put preko Afrike u trgovačkom karavanu i osim avanture, susreta s pljačkašima i zaraćenim zajednicama, doživljava i sve nedaće odrastanja. I baš kad počne da shvata ko je i šta se od njega očekuje u tom složenom svetu, izbija Prvi svetski rat i svi oni koji žive na afričkom kontinentu moraju da se suoče sa novom stvarnošću rata i kolonijalizma.

Genres: Fiction, Africa, Historical Fiction, Tanzania, Nobel Prize, African Literature, Novels

256 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1994

About the author

Abdulrazak Gurnah was born in 1948 in Zanzibar and lives in England, where he teaches at the University of Kent. The most famous of his novels are Paradise, shortlisted for both the Booker and the Whitbread Prize; By the Sea, longlisted for the Booker Prize and shortlisted for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize; and Desertion, shortlisted for the Commonwealth Prize. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2021 "for his uncompromising and compassionate penetration of the effects of colonialism and the fate of the refugee in the gulf between cultures and continents".

Reviews

[Jim Fonseca · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Historical Novel of German East Africa by the 2021 Nobel Prize winner. [I read this is 2015 but I’m adding pictures and revising the review.]



I enjoyed the writing style and it stuck with me because I remember a lot about it even though I read it some time ago. This is probably one of the author’s better works if you go by literary awards because it was shortlisted for the Booker Prize and Whitbread Prize when published in 1994.

A historical novel set around WWI in East Africa, modern-day Kenya and Tanzania, then the area around Tanganyika and Zanzibar. The Germans are moving in and building railroads. A young man from the interior is sold into bondage by his father to his uncle in payment of a debt.

Poverty at home is such that the boy looks forward to a bone in his soup, so moving to the coastal city (probably Dar-es-Salaam) may be an improvement. The uncle owns a store in the coastal city and is a trader in the days of year-long pack-animal caravans into the heart of Africa (the lakes around where modern-day Congo and Uganda meet).



The story switches from the rural interior to the cosmopolitan urban coastal world and then back again. The boy and his uncle are Muslim; the young man who runs the store and takes charge of the boy is Indian; the interior folks have traditional African religions. There is discussion of differences among the various gods. The characters use a variety of languages including Arabic, German and English; the lingua franca is Swahili. There is much discussion of “what do the Europeans want?”

The boy’s trip into the interior is a stand-alone adventure story. In this all-male world of travelers and traders there is much homoerotic talk and some sex. Our narrator, who is a “pretty boy,” is constantly fending off advances from men. The beginning of the end starts when the boy gets involved with his master’s two wives.

In the end the defining moment brings our main character back to the beginning: will he accept his serfdom for life or will he revolt? Everyone else accepts their serfdom: even if you are “freed,” where could you go? What would you do?



Wikipedia tells us “Gurnah was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2021 ‘for his uncompromising and compassionate penetration of the effects of colonialism and the fates of the refugee in the gulf between cultures and continents.’ He is Emeritus Professor of English and Postcolonial Literatures at the University of Kent.” The author (b. 1948) has written ten novels, most recently Afterlives, as well as short stories and essays.

Top photo: Africans conscripted as German soldiers in the early 1900’s from dw.com
Map from stampworldhistory.com
The author from news.sky.com

[Valeriu Gherghel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Un roman mai bun decît m-am așteptat. Criticii anglo-saxoni l-au privit cu reticență, n-am priceput prea bine de ce.

Paradisul din titlu pare a fi o fantasmă a tînărului Yusuf și a călătorilor care se opresc din cînd în cînd la prăvălia „unchiului” Aziz, unde Yusuf este servitor. Călătorii povestesc despre ținuturi în care soarele apune abia după miezul nopții, despre zidurile ridicate la capătul lumii de Gog și Magog sau despre un paradis apărat de o poartă de foc. De-a lungul cărții, termenul „paradis” (scris cu majusculă) e pomenit de multe ori: se discută despre el la paginile 109-110, 140, indianul Kalasinga, mecanicul care locuiește la poalele muntelui, speră că „va ajunge în Paradis” (pp.156-157), cineva menționează „porțile Paradisului” (p.244), Yusuf însuși, protagonistul romanului, visează într-o noapte Paradisul (p.265).

Paradisul poate fi și grădina străbătută de patru izvoare și înconjurată de ziduri înalte din spatele casei negustorului Aziz. Aici Yusuf se retrage adesea, îl ajută pe Mzee Hamdani, un grădinar pios, cu o părere fermă despre libertate, să îndepărteze buruienile, să ude florile și, uneori, trage cu ochiul la femeile ascunse în casă. Una dintre ele e „femeia nebună” a lui Aziz, Zulekha, cealaltă, sora vitregă a lui Khalil, tovarășul lui Yusuf, Amina. În treacăt fie spus, pe frumosul Yusuf toate femeile îl iubesc instantaneu (bătrîna Ma Ajuza, cu dinții înroșiți de tutun), dar el nu iubește pe nimeni, nu este interesat de femei, le ignoră.

Cînd Zulekha încearcă să-l seducă (după care îl acuză pe nedrept de agresiune sexuală, ca în textul biblic), Yusuf își dă seama că o iubește, de fapt, pe Amina. Ar dori să fugă împreună cu ea, să-i aline suferința, dar constată că acest fapt este imposibil: trăiește într-o lume lipsită de libertate. Paradisul este posibil doar ca fantasmă.

P. S. Ofer aici opinia despre libertate a grădinarului Mzee Hamdani:

„Cunosc libertatea despre care vorbești. Am avut acea libertate din clipa în care m-am născut. Cînd oamenii ăștia spun «ești al meu», «îmi aparții», e precum căldura ploii sau apusul soarelui la sfîrșitul zilei. A doua zi soarele o să răsară iar, indiferent dacă le place sau nu. La fel și cu libertatea. Pot să te închidă, să te lege cu lanțuri, să-și bată joc de toate micile tale dorințe, dar libertatea nu e ceva ce poate fi luat. Cînd termină cu tine, sînt la fel de departe de a te poseda ca în ziua în care te-ai născut. Mă înțelegi? Asta e munca ce mi-a fost hărăzit s-o fac, ce poate să-mi ofere cineva ca să fiu mai liber de-atît?“ (p.299).

[Justo Martiañez · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5/5 Estrellas

No es sencillo enfrentarse a una cultura tan alejada de los estándares occidentales que conocemos.

No es sencillo habituarse a una forma de escribir, no dificultosa ni mucho menos, pero si peculiar a la hora de expresar los sentimientos y de describir los acontecimientos y el entorno. Sin embargo, esta escritura, a medida que avanzas en la lectura, te va envolviendo y la acabas disfrutando plenamente.

La cultura es la swahili, esa peculiar mezcla entre africanos, persas, indues, árabes omaníes y europeos (portugueses sobre todo), que surgió en la costa este de África en las actuales Kenia, Tanzania y Mozambique.

Los acontecimientos nos los narra Yusuf, un joven swahili, cuya vida da un vuelco de 180 grados, cuando su propio padre debe cederlo a su acreedor, para saldar las deudas que tiene con él. Nos enfrentamos una cultura extraña, dura, donde la vida vale tan poco como una pequeña deuda y donde la esclavitud ha formado parte consustancial de la sociedad, enriqueciendo durante siglos a los pequeños estados costeros, de origen omaní, sobre todo el que tuvo su centro en Zanzíbar.

El entorno lo constituye la antigua Tanganica (la parte continental de Tanzania), hacia 1914. En sus extensas, sabanas y selvas conviven desde hace siglos, los swahilis, nativos africanos del interior y una élite árabe fundamentalmente esclavista. Este precario equilibrio marcado por relaciones comerciales y sobre todo por la violencia, está a punto de llegar a su fin, ya que los europeos, alemanes en este territorio, están empezando a hacerse con el poder. Todo esto nos lo narra Yusuf, que recorre el país en distintas caravanas comerciales a las órdenes de su amo y patrón.

Los sentimientos que nos transmite Yusuf, son los de un chico desarraigado, arrancado de su familia. Un chico sometido a los rigores de un cautiverio, no demasiado riguroso, pero en el que se ve privado de libertad, de futuro y de libre albedrío. Un chico también sometido a los rigores de una religión, la musulmana, que en los confines de áfrica, se ha ido abriendo paso durante siglos entre el animismo africano.

Bonita lectura, no sé si para darle el premio Nóbel, pero me ha resultado atractiva y enriquecedora.

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

A curious and surprising novel, which I think can be easily misunderstood, if the reviews are anyhing to go by.
It concerns Yusef, a boy who is taken by his "uncle" from his parents to pay a debt. He works in his uncle's shop with Khalil an older boy in a similar situation. As Yusef grows it is clear that he is very attractive to women and men. Uncle Aziz takes him on one of his trading expeditions through what is now Tanzania and we encounter jungle, strange and wonderful people; Yusef stays with a trading partner of Aziz for a time, where his growing attractiveness continues to be a problem. He then goes on a journey with Aziz and his trading caravan and has further adventures. They return to the uncle's home after some time and Yusef's beauty continues to be a problem.
There is a, on the surface, puzzling end. Yusef is a narrator who is a little apart and things happen to him in an oddly detached way. The Europeans are very much a background threat until the end; an ominous absence.
There was a richness and depth to the story and there are parallels to another story. Even with my limited knowledge of the Koran, there were obvious similarities with the story of The Prophet. However this is all about corruption; the worm in the bud, the rotting fruit. Yusef seems so innocent and acted upon, but there is something at his core that he sees that no one around him does. The end is completely baffling if you do not see it.
Enjoyable read which asked more questions than I initially thought it would.

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 3 out of 5]

The seyyid could travel deep into strange lands in a cloud of perfume, armed only with a bag of trinkets and a sure knowledge of his superiority. The white man in the forest feared nothing as he sat under his flag, ringed by armed soldiers. But Yusuf had neither a flag or righteous knowledge with which to claim superior honour, and he thought he understood that the small world he knew was the only one available to him.

The 4th novel by the winner of the 2021 Nobel Prize.

From the Nobel Citation

Gurnah’s fourth novel, Paradise (1994), his breakthrough as a writer, evolved from a research trip to East Africa around 1990. The novel has obvious reference to Joseph Conrad in its portrayal of the innocent young hero Yusuf’s journey to the heart of darkness. But it is also a coming of age account and a sad love story in which different worlds and belief systems collide. We are given a retelling of the Quran’s story of Joseph, against the background of a violent and detailed description of the colonisation of East Africa in the late 19th century. In a reversal of the Quran story’s optimistic ending, where Joseph is rewarded for the strength of his faith, Gurnah’s Yusuf feels forced to abandon Amina, the woman he loves, to join the German army he had previously despised. It is characteristic of Gurnah to frustrate the reader’s expectations of a happy ending, or an ending conforming to genre.”

The novel was shorlisted for the Booker Prize in 1994

The novel was shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 2004 and I first read this book in 2005, before revisiting in 2021 after the Nobel award.

And I would have to say that on both readings I did not really enjoy this book which I found one of the author’s weakest.

The novel is set in East Africa (in what becomes Tanzania) and perhaps can be seen as a story of the pre World War I years as the colonial “Scramble for Africa” starts to impact.

The main protagonist – albeit one who is, until late in the book, better described as the main characters – is Yusuf. At the book’s start he is told by his family to travel (to the coast) with a merchant and trader “Uncle Aziz” (master or “seyyid”)– quickly realising that he has been effectively sold to pay off his father’s debts.

The start and then end of the story are in the coastal town – Yusuf works in the merchant’s store as an understudy to Khalil (whose service to the merchant comes from a similar predicament). Yusuf is intrigued by the merchant’s rather mysterious wife “the mistress”.

The rest of the book – which feels like something of a different book altogether, has Yusuf accompanying Aziz on his trading travels – first to a town where he stays with a trader who is one of Aziz’s junior partners and then on a long, complex and difficult trading journey with Aziz and his fiery overseers, into the heart of the continent.

This journey feels like it should be the true heart of the novel and of real historical interest – as an evocative portrayal of an Africa society on the verge of change – a mainly Muslim area ruled by superstition and mysticism and riven by strange tribes, but as the Europeans gradually exert their power on the continent and the land turns increasingly violent and corrupt. But while much of that is there – at least on a sentence by sentence level – I never really felt engaged by the story of the journey (despite the wide range of characters and incidents) or really enlightened into the history of the area beyond the simple summary in my previous paragraph.

The novel then returns to the original, rather separate, story in the merchant’s coastal home and takes a rather odd turn. The mistress – who suffers from some kind of facial blemish – is convinced that Yusuf has magical powers that can save her – possibly even by sleeping with her. To Khalil’s horror Yusuf becomes more and more reckless in indulging her fantasies – principally so he can see the mistress’s maid – Khalil’s step-sister Amina (adopted by Khalil’s family after being rescued by slavers, only them to be sold by her adopted parents as a child bride to pay their debts).

This culminates in a retelling of the Quaranic version of the Joseph/Potiphar story – and as the Nobel citation implies, Yusuf though rather than being rewarded for his fidelity is more expected to remain in servitude in exchange for not being punished and on a whim decides to join the German army.

The most interesting part of this story is that Gurnah effectively then uses Yusuf’s fate as the back story for one of his key characters in his latest novel “Afterlives” – and overall I would recommend that novel as a much better example of Gurnah’s Africa based writing.

[♑︎♑︎♑︎ ♑︎♑︎♑︎ · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have yet to settle down into what I think of this novel, why I love it. The storytelling style required a lot of patience. It's a tell-not-show style. I needed to acclimate myself to it. As a style it's very rich but it required me to activate some reading muscles that I haven't used since reading, oh, maybe Somerset Maugham. It's descriptively lush. The story arc is a bildungsroman where the hero is mostly thwarted and trapped by circumstances beyond his control, and in turn it thwarted me as a reader. The lack of clear boundaries and identities and nationalities in the text was remarkable in that it painted a world where all these things were in flux and the only things that really mattered were a character's relationship with, and access to, wealth and martial strength. I feel unsettled and yet more well-informed about humans than I did before I read this book.

[M. Malmierca · Rating 5 out of 5]

No sé lo que es Dios ni recuerdo sus miles de nombres y sus millones de promesas, pero sé que no puede ser ese gran tirano que adoráis.

Paraíso (1994) es la novela más conocida y la primera traducida al castellano del tanzano (Nobel 2021) Abdulrazak Gurnah (1948-). Se trata de una historia de iniciación, de aprendizaje. El autor elige como protagonista a Yusuf, un niño que es vendido por su familia, para mostrarnos cómo era la vida en su Tanzania natal en los albores del siglo XX.

El lector acompaña a Yusuf en su crecimiento a la vez que conoce esa tierra y el discurrir de la vida de sus gentes, la convivencia entre las distintas religiones, clases sociales y, especialmente, los distintos pueblos, ya que el «Señor» al que es vendido el niño es un comerciante musulmán que se mueve entre diferentes territorios. Unos hombres y mujeres regidos por la religión, aunque también prácticos a la hora de acatar sus preceptos según los recursos de cada cual. Un lugar donde aún se debate sobre dogmas a la vez que se cree en supersticiones. Una época de historias y más historias, de rica tradición oral, donde los relatos de lugares y gentes lejanos hacen volar la imaginación en las tertulias nocturnas.

Pero, ese mundo al que Yusuf trata de adaptarse está a punto de ser destruido: el presente colonialismo alemán se recrudece ante el inminente comienzo de la guerra mundial y quiebra la ya compleja convivencia. Compleja sí, porque si hay algo que notamos al adentrarnos en la novela es que el paraíso del título no resulta ser tan idílico y por él campan a sus anchas la crueldad y la injusticia. Es por esto que la obra presenta cierta ambigüedad, o, quizás, ironía. Es por esto que no parece una obra de contundente crítica política contra el colonialismo.

De hecho, creo que la evolución de Yusuf, su modo de enfrentarse al mundo, prevalece sobre el elemento histórico y moral. Nos causa estupor y hasta nos enoja la aceptación de su esclavitud. Pero Yusuf no es un personaje trágico. Solo desea vivir lo mejor posible, encontrar un hueco en ese mundo que se desmorona a su alrededor. El imprevisto final, aunque parezca contradictorio, creo que responde también a esa manera de ser y ratifica la importancia de lo que está sucediendo.

Hay mucha belleza en la nítida prosa de Gurnah, en sus precisas y detalladas descripciones (casi olemos y tocamos el ambiente), en su ritmo pausado, en la lenta sucesión de acontecimientos, en la elegancia con la que trata a sus personajes, a todos. El Señor (la dominación sin esfuerzo), Khalil (la obediencia ciega) o el capataz (la homosexualidad reprimida) están perfectamente trazados, pero es la historia de Amina, la esposa recluida del comerciante, su viaje hasta la locura, la que más me ha impresionado.

Creo, sin duda, que Paraíso es una novela para recomendar. ¿Cómo no conmoverse ante la historia de un niño que es vendido como esclavo? ¿Cómo no disfrutar de un viaje hacía el corazón del África más salvaje? ¿Cómo no interesarse por un lugar y una época que se extinguen sin remedio?

[Pedro · Rating 4 out of 5]

Paraíso es una novela lineal, sin saltos en el tiempo ni trucos literarios; y así debía ser para que el preciso lenguaje de Gurnah pudiera, a través de la vida de Yusuf, pintar cuidadosamente el mosaico de la vida en una región de África Oriental a principios del siglo XX, antes de la llegada de los primeros europeos.
Yusuf se desempeña como sirviente de un mercader árabe de la ciudad, y gracias a su inteligencia, serenidad y su maravillosa capacidad de mirar y aprender, va pasando sin buscarlo, a ser el favorito de su amo. Y así Yusuf, que viene de una familia urbana pobre bantú (de lengua swajili), irá conociendo el mundo del comercio árabe, a hindúes y siks, a las temibles poblaciones tribales que pueblan el interior del país. Junto con ello, profundizará su sabiduría en torno al Corán, y conocerá las leyendas (genios, Gog y Magog) y los relatos de viajeros de lugares desconocidos. Y también conocerá el amor, lo que lo llevará en alguna ocasión a situaciones que podrían ser peligrosas para su vida, y que llevan a un final totalmente inesperado.
Una novela que me ha resultado muy gratificante y enriquecedora, llevado amablemente de la mano por este excelente escritor, como si fuera una viaje de conocimiento y comprensión, no sólo sobre la sociedad, sino también sobre la naturaleza del ser humano y sus anhelos de amor y de libertad.

Abdulrazak Gurnah obtuvo el Premio Nobel de Literatura 2021.

[Titi Coolda · Rating 5 out of 5]

Cât de mult mi-a plăcut cartea asta! Deși nu-s fan de family saga, cartea lui Gurnah a reușit înițial să mă intrige, structural și stilistic vorbind, pentru ca mai apoi să mă convingă că este un foarte bun povestitor. Cel mai mul mi-au plăcut părțile în care vorbesc vocile lui Amin și Rashid, de fapt sunt părțile care leagă și rezolvă firele narative ale celor două povești de dragoste petrecute la o distanță de-o jumătate de secol. Problematica vastă a narațiunii este bine conturată prin povești și personaje veridice și are o plajă largă pornind de la condiția femeii în societatea arhaică până la statutul emigrantului, colonialism,rasism, melanj cultural , fără tușe didacticiste, fără political correctness.

[Marius Citește · Rating 4 out of 5]

A.Gurnah este un excelent povestitor, romanul aprofundează subiecte despre violența colonialismului, putere, rasă, familie, cultură și identitate. O narațiune plină de descrieri poetice în care autorul descrie ținuturile prin care călătorește tânărul Yusuf.

Cartea exploreaza conceptele despre Dumnezeu, religie și semnificațiile acestora pentru oamenii din toate colțurile lumii. Un alt aspect care mi-a plăcut a fost modul în care autorul a arătat asemănările dintre țările din Africa de Est și culturile europene.

O călătorie despre cunoaștere și înțelegere, nu numai despre societate, ci și despre natura ființei umane, dorința de iubire și libertate.
O poveste dulce-amăruie.

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Nobel Prize in Literature for 2021 was awarded to Abdulrazak Gurnah, “for his uncompromising and compassionate penetration of the effects of colonialism and the fate of the refugee in the gulf between cultures and continents”.

In their biobibliography (https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/lit...) the Nobel Committee explained that:

Gurnah’s fourth novel, Paradise (1994), his breakthrough as a writer, evolved from a research trip to East Africa around 1990. The novel has obvious reference to Joseph Conrad in its portrayal of the innocent young hero Yusuf’s journey to the heart of darkness. But it is also a coming of age account and a sad love story in which different worlds and belief systems collide. We are given a retelling of the Quran’s story of Joseph, against the background of a violent and detailed description of the colonisation of East Africa in the late 19th century. In a reversal of the Quran story’s optimistic ending, where Joseph is rewarded for the strength of his faith, Gurnah’s Yusuf feels forced to abandon Amina, the woman he loves, to join the German army he had previously despised. It is characteristic of Gurnah to frustrate the reader’s expectations of a happy ending, or an ending conforming to genre.

Which rather sums the novel up, so little need to add any comments of my own, although I found the Azīz figure (Potiphar in the Biblical account) - here Uncle Aziz -the strongest character and I would have liked to have seen more focus of him and less on the rather hapless Yusuf:

His Uncle Aziz came to visit him at that time. His visits were brief and far between, usually accompanied by a visits were of travellers and porters and musicians. He stopped crowd with them on the long journeys he made from the ocean to the mountains, to the lakes and forests, and across the dry piains and the bare rocky hills of the interior. His expeditions were often accompanied by drums and tamburis and horns and siwa, and when his train marched into town animals stampeded and evacuated themselves, and children ran Out of control. Uncle Aziz gave off a strange and unusual odour, a mixture of hide and perfume, and gums and spices, and another less definable smell which made Yusuf think of danger. His habitual dress was a thin, flowing kanzu of fine cotton and a small crocheted cap pushed back on his head. With his refined airs and his polite, impassive manner, he looked more like a man on a late afternoon stroll or a worshipper on the way to evening prayers than a merchant who had picked his way past bushes of thorn and nests of vipers spitting poison. Even in the heat of arrival, amid the chaos and disorder of tumbled packs, surrounded by tired and noisy porters, and watchful, sharp-clawed traders, Uncle Aziz managed to look calm and at ease. On this visit he had come alone.

(Oddly even when the story directly follows the Quran version, with the plot hinging on a shirt being ripped from behind, as the characters directly acknowledge, Azīz is referred to as the Pharaoh)

As for the Nobel Prize? Well my twin Gumble's Yard, who had read this and one other novel by Gurnah pre the Nobel and is now reading most of his novels commented on reading one of them that this was "a Prize I am increasingly realising feels justified less by his often-flawed individual novels than by their collective power and the intelligence, insight and importance of their themes and ideas" (and I'd add Gurnah's contribution to the study of post-colonial literature). This was also shortlisted for the 1994 Booker, one of the Prize's oddest shortlists, referred to at the time as the 'Mogadon Booker' and dull but well-written at the sentence level and worthy is perhaps the best description for this one.

[Daniel Chaikin · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is simply wonderful, but of course not in a way I can capture. Gurnah takes us into the world of caravan trading in what is now Tanzania in southeast Africa, and what was then a cultural mélange, a world of merchants from different parts of Africa, Arabia and India, along with the leftovers around that trade, under German colonial rule. No dates, but there is an automobile, and a war coming; and the traditional ways, along with all their tragedy and risk and romanticism, are coming to an end.

Yusuf (whose significantly biblical name took me about 90% of the book to figure out, because of the spelling) finds himself taken from his parents by a rich uncle, and dumped in a shop, and then later on and off a caravan right out of something Marco Polo might have experienced, but here westward into the very distant heart of Africa. The civilized Islamic traders dealing with isolated pagan Africa tribes. Except this isn't the 1300's. This is a colonial ruled territory in the 20th century. Yusuf grows up, and encounters various characters, and their large personalities, and expounding on their philosophies and playing their tricks and trying to manage the traditions and changes.

My first time reading the new Nobel Prize winner. An LT friend sent this my way in April of 2019, after posting to me in her Club Read thread, "If one is going to try to hook someone on an author, one must do it properly!" It took me over two years and that prize to finally open it up and see what she meant. I'm anxious to read more by Gurnah.

-----------------------------------------------

48. Paradise by Abdulrazak Gurnah
published: 1994
format: 247-page paperback
acquired: 2019 – sent from an LT friend
read: Oct 8-16
time reading: 8:12, 2.0 mpp
rating: 5
locations: circa 1910 Tanzania
about the author: born 1948 in the Sultanate of Zanzibar. Fled to England after the Zanzibar Revolution in 1968. Now a retired professor of English and postcolonial literature at the University of Kent.

[Boris Maksimovic · Rating 4 out of 5]

Razni ljudi imaju razne manije, a moj drug Goran i ja smo manijakalno zainteresovani za afričku istoriju i književnost, posebno onu koja se tiče dvadesetog vijeka i de/kolonizacije. Goran mi povremeno preporuči ili pokloni neku knjigu koju otkrije na Gudridsu ili iskopa na Limundu, a nekad i ja uspijem da pročitam te zaboravljene bisere. Tako je bilo i sa ovom knjigom. Abdulrazak Gurnah je pisac sa Zanzibara, a "Paradise" je njegov roman koji je 1994. bio u najužem izboru za Bukera. Kad bih morao jednom riječju da opišem ovaj roman i njegov stil uopšte ta riječ bila bi bez sumnje – andrićevski. On je toliko andrićevski da sam ja ubijeđen da je ovaj čovjek nekada u životu morao čitati Andrića i da mu se veoma dopao. Prije svega zbog stila romana koji većim dijelom svoga toka protiče uz obale Indijskog okeana ili kroz divlju i nepredvidljivu unutrašnjost onoga što tek treba da postane Tanzanija. A onda, tu je i pozicija malog čovjeka – ovdje i u bukvalnom smislu te riječi, jer ipak je ovo nešto kao bildungsroman – čija sudbina je obilježena tektonskim istorijskim i geopolitičkim promjenama. Ovo je Tanzanija koju napuštaju Nijemci, a zaposijedaju Englezi, koji oružjem i oruđem ukidaju ili samo smanjuju moć lokalnih poglavica da bi uspostavili sebe kao jedine koji imaju monopol na upotrebu sile. Ali sve je to uglavnom negdje u daljini. Ono što vidimo to je dječak Jusuf, kojeg otac zbog nemogućnosti da vrati dug daje njegovom ujaku Azizu, koji će od tog trenutka postati centralna figura u dječakovom životu. Odrastanje, sudari carstava, preplitanje raznih vjerskih tradicija na istom prostoru, nedozvoljena ljubav u turbulentnom vremenu – sve su to razlozi zbog kojih me je ovo podsjetilo na Andrića. Ali ima tu još dosta toga, samo što ja nemam više ni vremena ni prostora pa ću reći da je ovo jedan divan roman koji možete pročitati ako vas sve ovo zanima i ako imate vremena, ali da nije nešto što će vas nužno oduševiti. No dobro, ne može baš svaki roman da nas okrene naopačke, niti treba. Ima nešto i u mirnim rijekama.

[David Carrasco · Rating 5 out of 5]

¿Y si el paraíso no fuera más que una promesa en boca de quien te vende las cadenas?

Porque eso es lo primero que pensé cuando terminé de leer Paraíso, de Abdulrazak Gurnah: aquí no hay paraísos, hay fronteras disfrazadas de jardines, hay sueños hipotecados por otros, hay silencio. Y en medio de todo eso, un niño con nombre bíblico —Yusuf— que crece creyendo que lo han bendecido, cuando en realidad lo han vendido.

No os preocupéis, que no voy a contaros la trama como si esto fuera la contraportada de un libro de texto. Solo os diré lo justo: Yusuf tiene doce años cuando su padre, ahogado en deudas, lo entrega como pago a un comerciante árabe. Lo que sigue es un viaje —sí, literal y simbólico, lo sé, qué original— por una África que ya está rota antes de que lleguen los europeos a terminar de destrozarla. La novela se sitúa a principios del siglo XX, en los años previos a la Primera Guerra Mundial, en una región donde los imperios ya se están repartiendo el pastel mientras los pueblos autóctonos ni siquiera tienen cubiertos. Gurnah no necesita inventarse nada para que esto duela: lo saca todo de la Historia, esa que rara vez se cuenta desde el lado de los que la sufren.

Y es esa perspectiva —la del que carga con las consecuencias— la que también define el tono. La prosa de Gurnah es una trampa sutil: parece sencilla, casi limpia, como si no quisiera molestar, capaz sin embargo de evocar sensaciones, paisajes y actitudes con una simple frase, llevándonos sabiamente por un fascinante recorrido geográfico desde la costa de Tanzania hasta el Kilimanjaro, los grandes lagos y ríos, las inclemencias del tiempo o la dureza del terreno, pero también a la profundidad psicológica de los personajes. Pero justo ahí es donde muerde. Porque bajo cada línea que parece describir un paisaje exótico —los mangos, las selvas, las rutas de caravanas— hay una carga política y emocional que te pasa por debajo de la piel. No es exuberante ni ornamentada, pero tampoco plana: es como si te estuviera hablando alguien que ha visto demasiado y ya no tiene tiempo para florituras. En esto me recuerda un poco a Coetzee, aunque Gurnah tiene un calor más táctil, una sensualidad apagada que nunca llega a ser celebración. Es África, pero sin tambores ni clichés; es belleza, sí, pero siempre con grietas.

Y esas grietas también se cuelan en la voz que narra. El narrador en tercera persona acompaña a Yusuf con una distancia engañosa. Parece objetivo, casi indiferente, como esos adultos que miran a los niños jugar sin intervenir, aunque sepan que lo que viene es una hostia. Pero esa frialdad tiene su función: permite que la crueldad del mundo se revele sola, sin moralina. A veces se filtra una ironía muy leve, como un susurro de impotencia, como si Gurnah nos dijera: "¿Lo veis? Esto es lo que había". Y eso duele más que cualquier discurso.

Y duele aún más cuando miras a los otros, a los que caminan junto a Yusuf. Los personajes orbitan a Yusuf como planetas que ya han sufrido su propio apocalipsis. Aziz, el comerciante que lo compra, es fascinante por su ambigüedad: no es ni héroe ni villano, sino un hombre que ha aprendido a sobrevivir en un mundo donde la libertad es un lujo que se compra… o se roba. Khalil, otro joven atrapado en el mismo sistema, es el espejo que Yusuf se niega a mirar. Y los europeos, cuando aparecen, no llegan como salvadores sino como depredadores con banderas. No son el centro de la historia, pero su sombra lo contamina todo.

Y, claro, al final lo que queda es eso: un mapa de cicatrices. Lo que Gurnah pone sobre la mesa, sin levantar la voz, es una denuncia feroz del colonialismo, del racismo institucionalizado, del comercio de cuerpos y voluntades. Pero lo hace desde dentro, no desde el púlpito. Esta no es una novela sobre el “choque de civilizaciones”, sino sobre cómo una se traga a otra sin siquiera mirarla a los ojos. Y lo más jodido es que esa violencia no grita: es lenta, burocrática, consentida. A veces hasta educada. Aquí lo que hay es una estructura de dominación, donde una cultura con poder militar, económico y simbólico —el colonialismo europeo— se impone sobre formas de vida que ya estaban ahí, con sus propias redes, sus dioses, sus libros, sus rutas. No es Europa contra “tribus”, es un continente ya entrelazado por civilizaciones islámicas, bantúes, suajilis, persas, indias... mucho antes de que a nadie en Berlín se le ocurriera dibujar líneas rectas sobre un mapa.

Y aquí es donde un lector europeo puede sentir un pequeño cortocircuito, una sacudida que no parece gran cosa, pero lo es: Paraíso no está narrada por los vencedores, ni por sus cronistas. No hay soldados británicos con conflictos de conciencia, ni exploradores blancos que “descubren” lo que ya estaba habitado. Aquí quien habla es la gente de la tierra. Y no es que eso sea raro viniendo de Gurnah —faltaría más, el hombre es tanzano—, pero lo insólito no está en quién lo escribe, sino en que este libro haya logrado abrirse paso en un mundo editorial que aún funciona como si el centro del planeta fuera Londres, París o Nueva York.

Lo verdaderamente radical es que esta historia no gira en torno al trauma europeo de perder colonias, sino al trauma africano de haber sido arrasado sin ceremonia. Y lo hace sin aspavientos, sin convertir la novela en un panfleto. Lo que para nosotros es una corrección histórica, para los personajes de Gurnah es simplemente su vida. Así de sencillo. Así de demoledor. Y claro, cuando los europeos aparecen, lo hacen como lo que fueron: una sombra que cae, no un foco que ilumina.

Estamos tan acostumbrados a que la Historia nos llegue solo por voces europeas, que cuando un libro pone a los colonizados en el centro —no como fondo, sino como protagonistas—, choca. No porque sea exótico, sino porque desmonta el pedestal narrativo desde el que solemos mirar. Aquí, las potencias coloniales y la guerra europea son ruido de fondo, ecos que no ocupan el foco. Para quien siempre ha visto el mundo desde su ombligo, eso puede ser refrescante. O incómodo. O las dos cosas.

Pero dejando a un lado la dimensión histórica y política, hay otro aspecto del libro que me pareció fascinante: cómo Gurnah usa el viaje iniciático de Yusuf para mostrar un mundo que se desmorona. Esto me llevó a pensar en otra novela clásica, aunque muy distinta, que también recurre a un niño en viaje para desnudar la podredumbre adulta. Y es curioso porque, aunque Paraíso y Las aventuras de Huckleberry Finn estén separados por siglos y continentes, ambas novelas comparten una herramienta narrativa que funciona como una lupa para revelar el mundo adulto: el viaje iniciático de un niño. Pero mientras Twain utiliza ese viaje para exponer con humor y sarcasmo las contradicciones de su sociedad, Gurnah lo hace para mostrar una herida mucho más profunda, una historia que no permite el alivio de la risa ni la esperanza fácil. Aquí, el relato nace desde dentro del trauma, sin concesiones ni atenuantes. Aquí no hay redención, no hay río que limpie. Solo hay un camino que se estrecha, y al final del cual uno ya no sabe si sigue siendo el mismo.

Pero más allá del paralelismo con Twain, lo que realmente atrapa es cómo ese viaje se vive desde una mirada que no busca protagonismo ni heroicidad, sino la silenciosa transformación de un chico que apenas puede decidir su propio destino. Yusuf es un protagonista extraño porque no decide casi nada. Es pasivo, callado, casi transparente. Pero ahí está la clave: Gurnah no nos da el héroe que actúa, sino al chico que observa. Que asimila. Que se transforma en silencio. El viaje de Yusuf no es de conquista, sino de renuncia. Y eso, en un mundo que solo valora la acción, es casi revolucionario. Hay algo profundamente tierno y perturbador en él, una inocencia que no es ingenuidad, sino desconocimiento impuesto. Durante buena parte del libro, ni siquiera sabe que es un esclavo. Cree que Aziz es su tío, que está protegido, que su lugar en el mundo tiene sentido. Y cuando esa ilusión se resquebraja, cuando finalmente tiene que tomar una decisión —una sola, en una fracción de segundo—, te rompe el corazón. Porque ya no hay retorno. Porque ya no hay infancia.

Esta metamorfosis silenciosa de Yusuf no solo define su personaje, sino que también se refleja en la propia estructura de la novela. Aunque aparentemente lineal, la historia se despliega como un remolino que te atrapa sin que puedas apartar la mirada. A primera vista, parece que avanzamos, pero pronto comprendes que giramos en círculos: Yusuf entra en el mundo de los adultos con la esperanza de entenderlo, solo para descubrir que lo que le espera es una cadena interminable de servidumbres disfrazadas de oportunidades. Crecer, al final, se revela como el arte de aprender a obedecer mejor.

Una cosa que me parece brillante es cómo Gurnah desmonta la idea de “civilización” sin hacerlo evidente. No hay grandes discursos sobre lo bueno o lo malo, pero cada escena, cada gesto, revela un mundo donde la moral depende de quién tenga el fusil o la deuda. Paraíso podría leerse en paralelo con El corazón de las tinieblas , pero desde el lado que Conrad apenas dejó entrever. Aquí no hay Kurtz, porque no hace falta: el horror ya estaba antes de que llegaran los blancos a inventárselo.

Mira, esta novela no es cómoda ni espectacular. Pero es necesaria. Se te queda en la garganta como una espina invisible que no te deja tragar. Si buscas acción o héroes con machetes, no es tu libro. Pero si quieres mirar de frente un pedazo de historia borrada y ver la literatura como memoria, Paraíso te dolerá. Y a veces, doler es lo más honesto que puede hacer una novela.

[Kiprop Kimutai · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read Abdulrazak for his language, his complex tales and how he explores the histories of the East African coast. The story is so well-paced and introduces an assortment of characters that I grew to love and care for. The dynamic between Yusuf and Khalil is most memorable and is well-resolved. And the ending is a big surprise!

[Flo · Rating 3 out of 5]

After I've read 3 novels by Abdulrazak Gurnah, I can say that I am impressed with how many facets of colonialism he can present to the reader. However, I can't say that I was satisfied with any of the 3 novels I've read. I liked a lot of the moments. The language is beautiful and warm, but the plots and characters felt abandoned at the wrong times always.

[Emma Deplores Goodreads Censorship · Rating 2 out of 5]

The best description I can give of this book is that it reads like a translation, even though it isn’t. There’s a certain flatness and distance to the writing that I associate with poor translations, and this turned out to be a book I had to push myself through. Fortunately, it’s short.

Paradise is the story of an adolescent boy, Yusuf, in early 20th century Tanzania. Yusuf's parents sell him to a merchant to satisfy a debt, and he spends the rest of the book working in the merchant’s shop and accompanying him on a trading expedition to the interior. And that's the plot in its entirety. Apparently it’s supposed to be a parable, mirroring the story of the Prophet Yusuf (the same person as Joseph in Genesis, unless I miss my guess). Unfortunately, the book is written in a plodding style and Yusuf is a non-entity, without personality or goals to keep the reader's interest. I’ve read interpretations arguing Yusuf was written as a blank state to symbolize Tanzania, which was at a crossroads (we see the beginning of European colonization here, as well as Arab and Indian influences). I suspect that does Tanzania a disservice, however, as no country could possibly be as boring as Yusuf.

I try to give foreign literature the benefit of the doubt, as there’s always the possibility that I just lack the cultural background to understand it, and East African readers would doubtless appreciate this more than I do. There is some story here, albeit a plodding one, and there are sparks of character among the secondary cast, particularly the merchants. While there’s not an enormous amount of cultural detail, the book did put Tanzania on my mental map in a way that it wasn’t before. However, this book completely failed to entertain me, and I found little to appreciate in the writing. (My favorite line: “ ‘I don’t know,’ Uncle Aziz said, shrugging with indifference.” Yes, the shrug had already tipped me off to his indifference.)

In the end, not a book I’d recommend unless you are Tanzanian or are writing a thesis on a relevant topic. For the rest of us, not much to see here.

[Kathleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Soon he came to a waterfall and paused there to look. There was an air of secrecy and magic in the place, but its spirit was benign and reconciled. Giant ferns and bamboos leaned into the water. He saw through the spray that the rock behind the falls had the depth of gloom to suggest a cave, the hiding place of treasures and unfortunate princes on the run from cruel usurpers.”

Abdulrazak Gurnah moved from Zanzibar to England as a refugee in the 1960’s. After the publication of this and several other novels, he won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2021.

There are so many layers to this novel. I found it very interesting as a coming-of-age story, and an introduction for me to Eastern Africa in the early 1900’s, but there is much more going on.

Yusuf is a boy when he is taken from his parents in payment for a debt his father owed to a powerful merchant who made regular stops in his Tanzanian town. The merchant, who the boy calls Uncle Aziz, is a cool character, and Yusuf admires him, so when his parents say he is going on a trip with his Uncle, he doesn’t resist.

This leads to many experiences as Yusuf grows older. At the merchant’s compound by the sea, Yusuf works with an older boy in the shop selling the merchant’s goods. He goes on a long and grueling trading trip with Aziz, growing up as he encounters one type of danger after another.

One of the major themes is freedom, as Yusuf craves his own freedom and wonders why some of the other people he comes to know do not have the same desire. There is a lot of suppression and servitude going on: a history of control by Arabs and Indians, and newer fear of Europeans. It was quite a harrowing life.

Early on, it is hinted that Yusuf is like the Yusuf in the Koran. I don’t know the Koran, but understand that Yusuf’s story is similar to that of Joseph in the Bible. I don’t really know that story either, but it’s the Coat of Many Colors Joseph who is beautiful and beloved and sold away from his family. I believe he uses his ability to interpret dreams to make progress, and the Yusuf in this story also has vivid, recurring, symbolic dreams.

I picked this up at the library on a whim, and am so glad I did. An eye-opening story for me, with lots to chew on.

[Babette Ernst · Rating 4 out of 5]

Noch nie zuvor war ich literarisch in Ostafrika. Der Literaturnobelpreisträger Gurnah zeigt das Leben zu Anfang des 20. Jahrhunderts auf dem Gebiet des heutigen Tansania, das damals Deutsch-Ostafrika hieß und ein für mich überraschend multiethnischer, multireligiöser und multikultureller Ort war. Neben einer Vielzahl afrikanischer Ethnien mit unterschiedlichen Sprachen und ein paar wenigen Europäern lebten vor allem an der Küste zahlreiche Araber und Inder, die seit alters her Handel trieben. Einem dieser Händler muss der 12-jährige Yusuf aus seinem Heimatort folgen als Pfand für die Schulden seiner Eltern. Er arbeitet mit Khalil, der ein ähnliches Schicksal hat, im Laden, lernt das Leben in dem Ort an der Küste kennen und begleitet später die Karawane des Händlers weit ins Landesinnere hinein, am Kilimandscharo vorbei bis in die Umgebung des Viktoriasees. Mit Yusufs Blick lernen die Leser*innen Landschaften, ganz unterschiedliche Personen, Vorstellungen und Gewohnheiten kennen. Unvoreingenommene Wahrnehmungen der Fremden wechseln mit irrwitzigen Geschichten voller Vorurteile und Legenden, die man sich abends erzählte, ab. Es wird sehr deutlich, welch verschiedene Welten beim Handel mit entlegenen Gebieten aufeinanderprallten, wie sich friedlicher Handel durch die europäische brutale und menschenverachtende Konkurrenz veränderte. Deutlich wird aber auch, dass das Land in der Vergangenheit kein Paradies war, dass Menschen verschiedener Ethnien einander ausbeuteten und geringschätzten.

Langsam, mit Freude an Details, erzählt Gurnah scheinbar Alltägliches, dessen Ungerechtigkeit erst allmählich klar wird. Mir hat dieser differenzierende, beschreibende Stil ohne Tempo sehr gut gefallen. Es entsteht ein buntes Bild des östlichen Afrikas mit vielen unterschiedlichen Menschen, das aus meiner Sicht, trotz der damals üblichen Begriffe wie „Wilde“, “Eingeborene“ und „Kaffer“, für die es extra eine editorische Notiz gibt, keine Einteilung in „Gute“ und „Böse“ vornimmt, sondern Hintergründe unterschiedlicher Handlungsweisen erkennbar werden lässt.

Der letzte Teil des Buches, am und im Haus des Händlers und im paradiesischen Garten, ließen mich an ein Märchen denken, ich fürchtete ein allzu mystisches Ende, das mich dann aber völlig überraschte und in die Realität zurückholte. Lange dachte ich über das Ende nach und bin mir nun darüber im Klaren, dass Yusuf, seine einzige Chance, sein Schicksal zu ändern, nutzt und sich seine Entscheidung mit heutigem Wissen und aus fremder Sicht nicht beurteilen lässt.

Ein beeindruckendes Buch, das mir das östliche Afrika sehr nahe gebracht hat.

[Wojciech Szot · Rating 5 out of 5]

Decyzja o przyznaniu Abdulrazakowi Gurnahowi literackiego Nobla była sporym zaskoczeniem. Był to pisarz niemal nieznany czytelnikom, co - jak pokazują kolejne ukazujące się w Polsce powieści Gurnaha - było przeoczeniem, które na szczęście nadrabiamy.

Jednocześnie dopiero „Raj” w przekładzie Krzysztofa Majera sprawił, że pisarstwo Gurnaha naprawdę do mnie przemówiło i dopiero teraz w pełni zrozumiałem motywy, które mogły stać za decyzją szwedzkich akademików. Okazuje się, że ten mieszkający w Anglii, a pochodzący z Zanzibaru, pisarz jest twórcą niezwykle intrygującym. Otóż Gurnah doskonale gra z europejską, „wielką” tradycją literacką. Stoi za nim nie tylko opowieść o różnych stadiach i kierunkach kolonizacji, której świadkami byli mieszkańcy tanzańskiego wybrzeża, ale też świadomy, interesujący koncept literacki.

W „Raju” Gurnah przedstawia fascynujący portret społeczeństwa zniszczonego przez kolonializm i z mistrzostwem prowadzi czytelnika przez społeczny dramat, przypominając, że europejski kolonializm nie jest jedynym czynnikiem niszczącym przez dziesiątki lat społeczeństwa Wschodniej Afryki.

„Na imię miał Yusuf, a dom opuścił nagle, mając dwanaście lat”. Tak zaczyna się ta fascynująca powieść. Chłopak opuszcza dom, myśląc, że jedzie do lepszego, miejskiego życia. Nie wiem, że został sprzedany przez ojca. Zapłaty nie będzie, ale długi zostaną umorzone.

Gurnah odwołuje się w „Raju” do legendy o Józefie, który jako chłopiec został sprzedany przez własnych braci oficerowi faraona.

Yusuf ze spokojnego życia w rodzinnej wsi zostaje brutalnie wrzucony w wirujący świat miejskiej dżungli, w której splata się wiele idei, światów i ludzi. Są tu czarni muzułmanie, biali i chrześcijańscy misjonarze, hinduscy czy arabscy sprzedawcy. „Nigdy nie ufaj Hindusowi!”, będą mówić bohaterowie powieści Gurnaha. „Hindus wie, jak sobie radzić z Europejczykiem”.

Tanzańsko-brytyjski pisarz w „Raju” opowiada historię, która przekracza znane nam już ramy narracji o czasach kolonializmu i wprowadza odcienie szarości. „Raj” - oczywiście zachowując proporcje - to książka, którą można postawić na tej samej półce, co „Zniewolony umysł”, czy „Czarodziejską górę” - na półce z dziełami ostrzegającym przed złem, które tkwi w każdym człowieki.

Mistrzowska to powieść.

(fragmenty tego tekstu mogą zostać użyte przez wydawcę do promocji książki, za co dostałem wynagrodzenie).

[Federico Sosa Machó · Rating 2 out of 5]

El mayor mérito de la novela es que permite asomarse a una realidad desconocida para muchos lectores, pero que eso sea lo más resaltable es un signo de que literariamente no me pareció gran cosa. Es posible que el premio recientemente otorgado a su autor haya despertado demasiadas expectativas que obviamente no fueron satisfechas, pero lo cierto es que esperaba más de una novela que se va diluyendo e incluso se alarga bastante hacia el final.

[Osama Siddique · Rating 4 out of 5]

For me the most abiding and significant feature of Gurnah's famous historical novel is his deep and unabashed critique of colonialism. No he doesn't consider this theme to be passé now or overdone. Neither does he shy away from dissecting and castigating earlier forms of despotism or falling for the deceit that the past justified what was to come later - the inevitable modernization (read 'colonialism') or the desirable modernization (again read 'colonialism). He continues to see how colonialism left deep grooves in the soil that are not easily smoothed over. Even as he sees which groups of men spread their domination over his land in the past, and how - a past that was not idyllic, but also not horrific. The pursuit of Paradise remained a dream then, with Paradise at times possible in the distant, wild and beautiful interior country and at times much closer at hand, in a large house surrounded by gardens with running streams, and mirrors hanging from the branches. But as it emerged, such paradises always emerged to be tainted by one kind of deformation or another.

Small town Tanzanian boy Yusuf finds himself pawned as a servant - the practice of rehani - to the powerful and rich Arab merchant Aziz to whom his father is indebted. Though the narrative, set in the early 20th century, initially dwells on his nostalgia for his hometown and his impressions of his new home, the story essentially revolves around a journey he undertakes with his uncle and his companions on a trading trip to the distant and mysterious hinter country beyond Lake Tanganyika. They travel through terrain that is beautiful as well hostile, as are the tribes that dwell there, and the expedition eventually comes to grief. Meanwhile, the world is soon to change with the advent of World War I but already it is evident that the white man is bringing with him a new world order that will define who occupies the land, who will trade with whom, and who will be armed and allowed to fight and who won't. What sets the newcomer apart is a distinctively fearsome temperament - in the yes of the natives he is a combination of diabolical mystique as well as a definite system for occupation and consolidation:

"Everywhere they went now they found the Europeans had got there before them and had installed soldiers and officials telling the people that they had come to save them from their enemies who only sought to make slaves of them. It was as if no other trade had been heard of, to hear them speak. The traders spoke of the Europeans with amazement, awed by their ferocity and ruthlessness. They take the best land without paying a bead, force the people to work for them by one trick or another, eat anything or everything however tough or putrid. Their appetite has no limit or decency, like a plague of locusts. Taxes for this, taxes for that, otherwise prison for the offender, or the lash, or even hanging. The first thing they build is a lock-up, then a church, then a market-shed so they can keep the trade under their eyes and then tax it. And that is even before they build a house for themselves to live in. Has anyone ever heard of such things? They wear clothes that are made of metal but do not chafe their bodies, and then go for days without sleep or water. Their spit is poisonous. Wallahi, I swear to you. It burns the flesh if it splashes you. The only way to kill one of them is to stab him under the left armpit, nowhere else will do the job, but that is almost impossible because they were heavy protection there."

In what appears still to be not fully charted country, where the long distances lead both to things ominous and beautiful, the sense is that it is both unknown and unknowable. But the advent of the European now threatens to disrupt everything and Gurnah captures native reactions - ranging from admiring and awed superstition to calm and resigned assessment. A traditional world - with all its beauty, savagery and sophistication, beauty and danger, and immense complexity - is on the cusp of dramatic change. Importantly, this world is being described in all its nuances by a local Africans and not external observers. Within this larger story are engaging explorations of the themes of adolescence, friendship, camaraderie, cruelty, physical attraction, ethnic and racial stereotypes and tensions (also the interplay of Arab Islamic, Indian and African values and norms; the irreverent banter between the local Arab Hamid and the Indian Kalasinga are hilarious and also very illuminating in terms of local prejudices and attitudes about each other), fear of the invader, patriarchy, racial pride, devotion to autonomy and liberty, indentured labor and slavery. The descriptions of the faraway areas is magical and picturesque.

The pragmatic understand the efficient exploitative system they are up against:

"'Do you know why they're so strong. Because they have been feeding off the world for centuries. Your grumbling won't stop them."

As also the civilizational rupture, loss of history, and future characterizations that they face.

"We''ll lose everything, including the way we live,' Hussein said. 'And these young people will lose even more. One day they'll make them spit on all that we know, and will make them recite their laws and their story of the world as if it were the holy word. When they come to write about us, what will they say? That we made slaves.'

Whilst the less discerning look upon the newcomers as sadistic, greatly fond of inflicting punishment and the death penalty, and even jinns fashioned out of fire, those who know describe them as 'famed breaker of nations.' While they speak about the colorful, rich and often violent history of Zanzibar and especially the impact of the resourceful Omanis, the future is stark, perhaps irreversible, and has to be responded to. The last scene shows German soldiers herding up conscripts in the marketplace. And the protagonist finding himself following them.

[Karenina (Nina Ruthström) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Paradiset utspelar sig i Östafrika, i imperialismens begynnelse (tidigt 1900-tal). Yusuf är en vacker 12-årig pojke som måste lämna sin far och mor för att arbeta i en butik åt sin rike farbror affärsmannen Aziz. Yusuf får också följa med Aziz på en handelsresa västerut. Utan sina föräldrar som skydd hotar många faror i form av vilda djur och människor. Han sexualiseras av både kvinnor och män och utsätts för olika former av förtryck. Vi följer pojken som blir en ung man och hans betraktelser av omvärlden. Här finns flera komponenter som kännetecknar en utvecklingsroman; uppbrottet från barndomshemmet, ungdomstiden, vilsenheten, resandet, sexualiteten, lärdomarna och vägledningen. En utvecklingsroman à la Candide i afrikansk kontext kan mycket väl vara värd Nobelpris. Precis som Voltaire tycks Abdulrazak Gurnah ta fasta på trädgårdens betydelse, men de skiljer sig när det kommer till synen på människors vänlighet och komplexitet.

Men det handlar mindre om karaktärsutveckling och mer om det prekoloniala landets förändringar, mellanmänskliga möten, strider och vänskap. Swahilikulturen möter den arabiska kulturen och hotande i utkanten finns européerna. Folkgrupper, myter, språk, religioner, traditioner och handelsutbyte sätter sin kulturella prägel på människor och bidrar till både samhörighet och distans. Därtill har människan ett individuellt jag som styrs av känslor och förnuft, men kring detta skrapar Gurnah lite för ofta bara på ytan.

Det är spännande att läsa om Östafrikas (idag Kongo, Kenya, Tanzania) kultur, natur och människor. Här finns rödmålade krigare, brödfruktträd, plundrade byar, torka, mattor att sova på, granatäpplen, röd lera, berg, kvinnor med bara bröst och slavar. Jag fascineras av berättar- och musikkulturen som omger Yusuf. Jag uppskattar och lär mig av det utomeuropeiska synsättet som författaren har. Européer sägs äta metall och tyskarna omtalas för sina hårda straff och obarmhärtiga mentalitet. Berättaren förklarar bara en bråkdel av inhemska ord och företeelser. Inifrånperspektivet i kombination med min ringa förförståelse håller mig som läsare på distans. Med fler förklaringar hade förmodligen bokens litterära värde sjunkit. Inifrånperspektivet är romanens största behållning.

”De där européerna är väldigt beslutsamma, och när de slåss som jordens rikedomar kommer det att krossa oss allesammans. Man måste vara dum om man tror att de är det här för att göra något gott. Det är inte handel det är ute efter, utan själva jorden. Och allt på den… oss.”

Det är en utomstående berättare som förmedlar historien delvis ur barnets perspektiv. Den naivistiska blicken på omvärlden är trovärdig. Gurnahs prosa är sval och stram, oftare saklig än poetisk. Ibland lite väl detaljrik. Författarens ton är ödmjuk och balanserad. Språket är välformulerat och liksom perfekt. Men det skimrar ganska sällan. Vad var det Kallifatides sa? Sömnigt? Vilket egentligen är under all kritik eftersom karaktärerna utsätts för fruktansvärda hemskheter och författaren borde ha en eloge för att han undviker känsloporr. Det har han ju också fått nu. Om det är fler än jag som tycker det är lite ljummet inledningsvis så är mitt råd att ha tålamod, de sista 100 sidorna griper ordentligt. Även om jag hade önskat att få lära känna Yusuf bättre.

Precis som Voltaires Candide finner Yusuf tröst i trädgården och dess skönhet, som vore den ett paradis. Paradiset står som symbol på flera sätt i romanen. Dels diskuterar en hindu och en muslim hur deras religioner förhåller sig till paradiset. Jag tolkar också titeln som en fråga huruvida Östafrika var ett paradis innan kolonialismen, svaret är nej. Detta är romanens överordnade idé, tänker jag mig.

”Ibland blev Yusuf själv stum när han mindes det oändliga röda landskapet som vimlade av människor och djur och när han såg för sig hur klipporna hade rest sig ur sjön som murar av eld.
’Som porten till paradiset’, sa Yusuf.
Khalil gav ifrån sig ett dämpat, misstroget läte. ’Och vem bor i det paradiset? Vildar och tjuvar som stjäl från oskyldiga handelsmän och säljer sina egna bröder för krimskrams’, sa han. ’De har varken Gud eller religion eller ens något vanligt, enkelt medlidande. De är precis som vilddjuren som bor där bland dem.'”

Värdet ligger främst i vad Gurnah säger om det mänskliga i oss alla. Hans komplexa karaktärer påminner mig om hur fantasin skenar iväg kring det vi vet lite om, att vi skapar ett vi genom att distansera oss från ett dem, hur berättelser traderas. Det är också värdefullt att få ta del av en prekolonial afrikansk historia. Eftersom jag läser det här som en utvecklingsroman som har intertextuella kopplingar till Candide så tänker jag på huruvida vi lever i de bästa av världar och hur det goda och onda i människan förhåller sig.

Romanen tar itu med klass, ett ämne jag ofta uppmärksammar. Men nu handlar det inte om någon stackars arbetarklass som känner sig främmande bland akademiker, här är det förslavare som ställs mot förslavade. Gurnah spräcker min priviligierade bubbla och det är jag tacksam för.

Sexualitet går som en röd tråd genom romanen, i både hetero- och homosexuell form. Det är många scener med män som smeker sina skrev ändå är det här absolut ingen masochistisk berättelse. Människors framförallt mäns sårbarhet är ständigt närvarande. Kvinnorna är starka och ibland lite farliga. Det är uppfriskande.

[Dagio_maya · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Rivide la propria vigliaccheria luccicare nella placenta alla luce della luna,
e ricordò di quando l’aveva vista respirare.
Era la prima volta che aveva avuto paura di essere abbandonato."



C’è qualcosa che anche nella disperazione più nera nessuno ci potrà mai rubare:
è la libertà di poter sognare.
Ognuno ha il proprio paradiso.

Per Yusuf che vive il tradimento dei propri genitori non è facile destreggiarsi in un mondo che gli si muove attorno in un continuo vortice di menzogne e avidità.


Un racconto in bilico dove gli incubi della notte si confondono con le ingiuste crudeltà di ogni giorno.
I territori dell’Africa orientale di primo novecento che pullulano di sordidi avventurieri, avidi commercianti.
Un coacervo di lingue, popoli e culture che l’uomo europeo usurpatore semplifica nella parola africano come se tutta questa matassa fosse facilmente sbrogliabile.

Yusuf strappato alla famiglia all’età di dodici anni.
Solo qualche anno dopo si ritrova ad affrontare un duro viaggio nell’entroterra in un momento in cui le carovane tradizionali di mercanti sono destinate a scomparire sotto l’ombra europea che sovrasta il territorio.

Gli occhi tristi di un ragazzino che tutto osserva e s'illuminano solo nel giardino della casa del suo padrone: un effimero paradiso che fa dimenticare il dolore di essersi annullato.

Romanzo storico, di formazione ma anche di avventura;
bellissimo al di là del premio Nobel ricevuto dall’autore.


"Yusuf aveva la sensazione di essersi svegliato da un incubo.
E disse a Khalil che spesso aveva avuto la sensazione di essere un animale dalla carne tenera che aveva abbandonato il suo guscio per poi trovarsi in campo aperto, una lumaca miserevole che procedeva alla cieca lasciando una striscia di bava su ciottoli e spine.
Questo pensava che fossero tutti loro, che avanzavano a tentoni in mezzo al nulla.
E il terrore che aveva provato, disse, era diverso dalla paura. In quei momenti era come se non esistesse veramente, ma vivesse in sogno, sull’orlo della sparizione. E si chiedeva che cosa fosse così forte da spingere la gente a soffocare quel terrore pur di fare i loro commerci"

[Alex Fernández · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un complejo retrato del África Oriental del siglo XX (tema nuevo para mí). Por complejo, hablo de ambos lados de la complejidad: Las violencias del colonialismo (culturales, sociales, de poder) y la narrativa poética con la que el autor describe las tierras recorridas por Yusuf. Un relato agridulce, como lo es la Historia.

[Igne · Rating 3 out of 5]

Gražia, turtinga kalba išversta knyga – šitai sudaro turbūt pusę jos žavesio. Kita pusė – Rytų Afrikos kultūra ir kraštovaizdžiai. Bet skaitydama vis svarsčiau, kuo šitas romanas skiriasi nuo šimtų kitų apie jaunuolį (būtinai gražų, būtinai gabų ir romaus būdo), gyvenimo švelniai pamėtomą šen bei ten? Atsakymas: nelabai kuo, tik kad čia veikėjas klaidžioja ne po Vokietiją ar Indiją, o po dabartinę Tanzaniją.

[Radu Popovici · Rating 4 out of 5]

3,5 *

[Bilal Y. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Hikaye anlaşılır. Her cümle bir resim olarak zihinde karşılık bulabliyor. Ancak kötü Türkçe biraz tadı kaçırıyor. Ne var ki, durumu büyütüp okuma keyfimin önüne geçmesini istemedim. Cümle yapıları ve kelime seçimleri problemliydi ama ben kendime meşgale yaratıp bu sorunları kendimce çözmeye çalıştım. Kimi ifadeleri cümleleri güzelleştirmeye çalıştım aşağıda örneğini verdiğim gibi. Bilmiyorum becerebildim mi? Bu bakımdan aşağıdaki düzeltme için önerilere açığım:

Kitaptaki cümle: Avrupalılar da bavulları ve birkaç metre ötelerinde düzgünce duran önemli görünüşlü mallarıyla çadır bezinden bir tentenin altında bekliyorlardı.

Bu cümle yerine benim önerim: Bavulları ve birkaç adım ötesinde, düzgünce istiflenmiş gösterişli eşyalarıyla Avrupalılar ise çadır bezinden bir tentenin altında bekliyordu.

[Reyer · Rating 4 out of 5]

In a way, Paradise by Abdulrazak Gurnah (1948) serves as a counterpart to Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart . Whereas Achebe recounts the story of a West African tribe centred on agrarian culture encountering British colonialism, Gurnah’s novel explores East African communities centred on trade encountering German colonialists. The author makes the complexity and variety of late-19th-century cultural and political relations in present-day Tanzania tangible. By choosing the perspective of a twelve-year-old boy, he invites the reader to wonder along with him. Like his protagonist Yusuf, it took me some time to realise that ‘Uncle' Aziz is, in fact, something of a ‘Godfather’ figure, exploiting his ‘clients’ and taking their children as collateral. Gurnah’s world is a bitter one, where human life has little value, children become adults at a young age, and violence is part of everyday life. What struck me most is how Yusuf – and with him, thousands of others – has no say in decisions affecting him and even finds equanimity in his life of captivity. I will gladly read more of this Nobel Prize winner’s work in the future.

[John Hatley · Rating 4 out of 5]

In this astonishing novel, Abdulrazak Gurnah tells the story of a 12-year-old given away by his father to settle a debt. It takes place in East Africa, which is about to be colonised by European powers. Against the background of the boy's coming of age, we get a glimpse of a region in which cataclysmic collisions occur: the collision of very different tribal traditions and superstitions, the collision of different religions and cultures, and the collision of two different European powers, vying for control of a continent that does not belong to them.
In spite of the brutality involved in the historical background, Gurnah manages to tell a fascinating story at a very personal level, without a brutal language, from the perspective of the main character, Yusuf. It is an amazing achievement and a very enjoyable read.