This is my attempt at a proper book review.
This book is beautiful, I realize I say that about a lot of books but I mean it all the time. There is something about books where the protagonist remains unnamed; there is a way one relates to characters that are nameless that is different from those that are named. You don’t assume anything and every little description helps you form an opinion as to what kind of person this character is.
The main character in this book, the man as he is referred to, is trying not to be corrupt in a country riddled with corruption. His family chastises him for not wanting to advance and make them happy when all their friends around them are doing so well. What is so sad is that he knows it is wrong and that he is doing the right thing but he feels guilty for not doing the wrong thing? Do any of us even know what that is like anymore in an age where everyone is so preoccupied with their own fiscal satisfaction, where we step on the little man to get to the top of the ladder, especially here where nothing can get done without a few hands getting greased? Even sadder is the fact that even in the knowledge that the man is doing the right thing does not help ease the futility of his life. The man feels that all there is to life is living it by not complaining about his station in it, going to work, going back home and then going back to work. The author masterfully describes everything in this book, there is a scene where the man takes a lunch break with no lunch to eat and decides to take a walk that leads him to cross some railway tracks and I swear you can see this man, you are there with him, as hungry as he is and totally worn out but glad for the fresh air and sunshine. There is a line that stayed with me, “His breath reeked with the rich stench of rotten menstrual blood”. Who but the most awesome writer can pull a line like that off?
If you can read this masterpiece and let it change your life.
The reason I hate writing reviews is that I will never ever write as beautifully as the authors of the books I am writing about and as such can never convey to you just how beautiful the writing is. Just trust me because even though I can’t write, I sure can read.