Congratulations are in order, as this is the first book that's made me publish an entire open letter article in response. But slightly more on that later.
First: this is a good book. Good books are supposed to make you think and they're supposed to be entertaining, and this book is both. And, contrary to what people in certain areas of social media seem to think, books are not things that one has to universally agree with, nor are they obliged to always make you feel good. Resident Alien is full of the same conversational, honest, entertaining writing that I've come to associate with Malan, but I have to admit that I did not find him as likable in this book. Which is fine -- I do not rate books based on how much the author makes me like them. I do not want authors to write books with "being liked" as their primary goal. Good God. How boring. In fact, after reading this book it's become one of my dearest wishes to be seated beside Mr Malan at a dinner party, because I think we would get on wonderfully. (And by "get on," I mean the conversation would likely be animated and unstoppable, if not entirely diplomatic.) Unfortunately, the one downside to this book is that I glimpsed a side of the author that I do not find overly pleasant or trustworthy, and that is an issue.
Malan does some great investigative journalism, and he's very, very good at writing about himself, his country, and the intersection of both. He is also very opinionated, very unafraid to voice these opinions, and dare I charge that he is perhaps a little too obsessed with South Africa. This results in a tendency, spotted clearly in a book where he strays to other subjects outside the ones in which he excels, to confuse journalism with opinion and to be shockingly, cringingly wrong. Now, anyone who's read anything by Malan will probably walk away from it knowing that he's a snob -- he admits this, he's alright with it, and he admits when he's wrong. So long as someone is capable of doing this, I don't mind snobs; they're fun. I was well aware of this when I picked up the book, and even if this snobbery could come on a little heavy at times, it was hardly a problem. Malan has a self-awareness that assures his readers that he doesn't think he's got the divine right to be correct here, but this is just how he feels and that's his truth until proven otherwise. Excellent; this is why I think we'd have fun at dinner parties.
Deeply unfortunate, then, that this kind of attitude strays into places where it is really not appropriate. Namely, his article on Northern Ireland -- the place where I grew up, and where I have my own complicated, guilt-ridden, probably snobby thoughts about identity and place. While Malan has plenty of insightful things to say about this in his own country, when it comes to mine he was deeply offensive and woefully uninformed. It's not so much the lack of understanding that gets me -- the conflict in Northern Ireland is complicated and, like all wars, impossible to adequately describe to someone who did not grow up there. But Northern Ireland is a particularly quiet war, hidden away and declared finished decades before it did. I can hardly blame a foreigner for not knowing the intricate ins and outs, and when it comes to the facts his are mostly solid. What offends me is the lack of empathy. Malan has fallen into a trap that I hoped somebody usually so insightful would avoid: he believes that there is a heirarchy of pain. The war my country endured was not bad enough. The torture that my people suffered was not cruel enough. Only some 3000 people died. My war was, according to Malan, "boring."
My personal feelings aside, this is a moral line in the sand for me. I do not have to be personally affected to state firmly that I do not believe that some types of torture are better than others; I do not believe that one life is inherently worth less than one hundred lives. All torture is bad. Nobody deserves to be tortured. One death is too many. And all war, no matter how great or small, no matter how many people do or don't die, no matter the methods of torture employed, is evil. I will say it again: all war is evil. It is the greatest evil that can befall mankind. Every single war is pain and loss and trauma on an industrial, incomprehensible scale. I extend this to all wars I read about (Malan's included) and all wars I have covered and will go on to cover as a journalist. It is a hard moral for me -- the comparison of trauma is abhorrent. I will not budge on this.
Therefore Malan has regrettably gone down in my estimations. I still find him a brilliant writer, and I find his work thoughtful and engaging. I still think there are places where he is the undeniable expert. But I no longer trust him as much as I once did. I am incapable of separating his writing from the fact that he believes certain torture does not count as bad enough, and certain wars are boring. I read everything much more closely, and I wonder who else he is dismissing in such a thoughtless, flippant manner. Of course, this collection is hardly recent -- perhaps I will read something that assures me this perspective is out of date. But until then it is something I will keep in mind. And even so, it is something I could hardly forget.
This is still a deeply enjoyable collection, but something has changed after my reading of it and at this point I don't quite know whether I like it or not.