This book is about a white veteran of Rhodesia's Chimurenga War who is haunted by the past, but it's disturbing in more ways than the author intends. It is really hard to not dislike the author intensely once you read between the lines of what went into this book. First, Fuller, raised in Africa by white settlers but now living in the U.S., publishes a memoir of her childhood in Rhodesia (which I have not read but may yet, if only out of morbid curiosity) which becomes an unexpected runaway bestseller. Then what obviously happened is her publisher said, "Write another one on a similar topic, and we'll give you an advance and money for travel!" But she'd already written up her whole life in Africa, so how can she write another book? So she uses the money to visit her parents, now farming over the border in Zambia, and scout around for a topic. It turns out there's an utterly deranged, PTSD-addled white man who came back from the Rhodesian bush wars with snakes in his brain and now lives by himself on a nearby farm. Even her parents keep a distance from this loon. So she goes over to introduce herself and what comes out very quickly is that he likes isolation because of his madness but is desperately lonely for female companionship and utterly emotionally fragile and here out of nowhere comes this cute, thin little blonde woman with dimples and cheekbones--in her author photo she is cocking her head and grinning for the camera in her blonde bob like a flirty debutante--who wants to do nothing but sit and chat with him. This is, like, the biggest thing that has happened to him in the past ten years, so of course he utterly falls in love with her. And of course, since she now spent the travel money and HAS to write her book, and quickly, she totally lets him and in fact leads him on sexually to an extent that is jaw-droppingly shameless. It is not clear at what point she reveals to him that she wants to write a book about him, perhaps it is just before or just after or just as she suggests to him that they go on a car trip to Mozambique to meet some of his old army buddies and visit some places he fought in during the war. Even though this trip is painful for him, he obliges because he's head over heels. Mind you, I don't mean horny, or at least not only horny: he's a born-again and doesn't drink or anything and seems to lead a quiet, moral lifestyle; he just wants a WIFE, and he says repeatedly that he thinks God sent her to him. (Whisper: no, her publisher did!) He opens up to her--about his only child who died as a young boy, about his failed marriage, about the people he killed in the war, including a girl from a village that died after he performed torture on her genitals to get information out of her, about his madness and loneliness and his utterly terrifying bouts of murderous rage in the years after he returned from fighting. And she lets him, and transcribes it all down to be downloaded into her book later, and when necessary she hugs him and comforts him and lets him kiss her "wetly" on the cheek and sob and babble about how wonderful she is. THEN, in Mozambique, they visit a former comrade of his, a notorious womanizer who is if anything CRAZIER, who lives on an island in a lake with only a semi-tamed LION for company, and while they're staying there one night, right after K, as she calls the subject of her book, goes off to bed, she lets the womanizing lion-owner get to second or third base with her (details murky, but not home run)--after all, she's lonely for companionship too, and it's HARD WORK to lead someone on sexually for weeks and weeks; it's a kind of self-denial too, poor girl, and if she gave K so much as a handjob it might spoil her hot streak of information-extraction--and K, who is no fool, overhears enough to figure out what happened and to assume more--and then the next morning K goes ballistic on her and screams at her that she's Evil (poor fellow only just figured that out) and he destroys all of her tapes and notes in a rage and sends her away. This is weird because all of the conversations and monologues up to this point are rendered with tape-recorder-style full-transcription verisimilitude, and this is when the reader suddenly realizes that all of that is reconstructed from memory, including all of the sobs and breakdowns and cluster-headache screams of anguish and babbling professions of feelings that punctuate his telling of his life story. Presumably, she had made him sign a release before all this happens because she goes home to Wyoming and writes the whole book without any input or further permission or contact of any kind with K until, just before the manuscript goes off to the publisher, she adds a postscript in the form of the email from him that has just arrived to break the months of silence, in which he is grudgingly but still rather pathetically forgiving of her. As an epilogue: in the book she refers to her husband and two children back home in Wyoming, but the "about the author" blurb on the jacket says she lives with her two children in Wyoming; no husband mentioned. He got wise, I guess, and so did K, at least briefly, and I hope readers get wise too as to what kind of person Alexandra Fuller is. Ick.
Nonetheless, it is a damn good read. And the glossary in the back, which breaks down for us K's mixture of Anglicized Shona and Boer slang is worth the cost of the book in itself.