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Libya, 1979. Nine-year-old Suleiman's days are circumscribed by the narrow rituals of childhood: outings to the ruins surrounding Tripoli, games with friends played under the burning sun, exotic gifts from his father's constant business trips abroad. But his nights have come to revolve around his mother's increasingly disturbing bedside stories full of old family bitterness. And then one day Suleiman sees his father across the square of a busy marketplace, his face wrapped in a pair of dark sunglasses. Wasn't he supposed to be away on business yet again? Why is he going into that strange building with the green shutters? Why did he lie? Suleiman is soon caught up in a world he cannot hope to understand-where the sound of the telephone ringing becomes a portent of grave danger; where his mother frantically burns his father's cherished books; where a stranger full of sinister questions sits outside in a parked car all day; where his best friend's father can disappear overnight, next to be seen publicly interrogated on state television. In the Country of Men is a stunning depiction of a child confronted with the private fallout of a public nightmare. But above all, it is a debut of rare insight and literary grace.… (more)
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Suleiman's mother feels as if she is the victim of her own family, forcibly married off at the age of 14 after being spotted
It's a classic story of a loss of innocence and the collapse of a family in the midst of oppression, but Matar's knack for characterization and his impeccable prose lift it well above average and ensured it read as more than just another coming-of-age-in-turbulent-times-and-oppressive-society saga. Suleiman muses about the nature of vindication after watching a televised hanging: "Where were the heroes, the bullets, the scurrying mob, the happy endings that used to send us out of the dark cinema halls rosy-cheeked with joy, slapping one another’s backs, rejoicing that our man had won, that God was with him, that God didn’t leave him alone in his hour of need, that the world worked in the ways we expected it to work and didn’t falter?" But the author grabbed me with his prose much earlier on, when Suleiman describes his visit to the site of Lepcis Magna with Kareem and the latter's father: "Absence was everywhere. Arches stood without the walls and roofs of the shops they had once belonged to and seemed, in the empty square under the open sky, like old men trying to remember where they were going. White-stone-cobbled streets—some heading toward the sea, others into the surrounding green desert—marched bravely into the rising sand that erased them." This goes onto my "top books of the year" list; 4.7 stars.
I enjoyed this insightful glimpse into the mind and psyche of a young child who is forced to grow up far too quickly, without reliable or completely trustworthy parents and other role models to guide him.
The movie in my head was one of those moody art-house things full of meaningful glances which hinted at unspoken words, secrets whispered in corners, and long poignant silences. It was shot in
I felt so opressed by the weight of fear, in thisnailbitingly tense novel that I had to put it down for two whole days (although I had gobbled down the first half of it on the AirAsia flight back from Bali.)
It's set in Libya. It didn't have to be. It could be set in any police state where there is the inevitable anticiption of the knock on the door and the possibility of torture, imprisonment. And worse. One of the most disturbing scenes in the book is an account of the public hanging of a gentle art historian shown on state TV.
The story is told through the eyes of Sulaiman a nine year old boy who struggles to make sense of what is going on around him. His father, Baba, is one of the liberal intelligensia fighting for democratic reform. He is frequently absent from home, ostensibly on business trips but in reality on attempts to foment social change and a push for democracy among the student population.
His wife and son, meanwhile, are vulnerable and afraid at home. Suleiman's mother takes refuge in alcholol, procured illegally from the local baker. She tells Suleiman that it is her "medicine", and spends the evenings relating 1001 Nights and her own story of domestic tyranny - both tales in which women are treated as mere chattels. She was at 14 forced into marriage against her will because she had spoken to a boy in public.
The strain of witnessing so much that he does not understand carries Suleiman to breaking point.
He longs for an initiation into the world of men, principally so that he can protect his mother, whom he loves almost incestuously. But childhood innocence is lost as he discovers the power of siding with the enemy and bullying those weaker than himself. Violence and betrayal suck him in.
The Bookseller reports that the novel :
... is already characterised in book trade shorthand as "the Libyan Kiter Runner" ...
but I found this novel very much stronger, and a great deal more disturbing without The Kite Runner's easy answers and the blare of Hollywood sentimentality.
Like Hosseini's novel, In the Country of Men contains strong autobiographical elements. Matar fled with his family from Libya to Egypt where he attended English boarding school.
Would I recommend the novel? Yes. The writing is sensual, the storytelling compelling and powerful. It asks difficult questions about how relationships survive in an atmosphere of oppression and fear and I feel that it fully deserved its place on the Booker shortlist - I'm just glad that I wasn't one of the judges on that committee.
Suleiman is an only child - an object of affection but remorse for his mother, who was forced into marriage at 14 when seen in a cafe with a boy her age. Suleiman's father is aloof, living a double life as a political activist that would eventually catch up to his family. Through Suleiman's eyes, we see how Qaddafi's reign brought terror to many families, as fathers were whisked off in cars and telephone lines were tapped. Suleiman's family was not excluded, and he becomes confused about why his father is lying about what he does for a living.
Matar's writing style is pitch perfect, especially with a narrator so young. Very readable, In The Country of Men will make you cringe and shake your head at what is unfolding in Suleiman's life. The whole time, though, you root for Suleiman, hoping he and his family can somehow escape unscathed.
With the current political activity in Libya, this book is very telling and offers insight into how Libya has become the country it is today. I congratulate Hisham Matar for continuing to write about Libya, despite his personal tragedies. If you're looking for a fast-paced, thrilling book, I highly recommend In The Country of Men.
In the Country of Men is narrated by Suleiman looking back at the summer of 1979 when he was nine years old. That was to be the summer when he was exposed to the terror of living under a tyrannical regime, finding out that his father wasn’t a businessman but something to him that’s more sinister, for at nine, Suleiman cannot comprehend the secrecy and strain that being an active political dissident puts on the family.
Suleiman, one day, sees his father at the window of a house in town when he was meant to be abroad travelling. He can’t believe his father has lied to him, and this will prove damaging to their relationship. His mother, who was forced into marriage with his father, seeks solace in her ‘medicine’, obtained under the counter from the baker, and in her drunken stupor tells Suleiman about her early years. Then he has to stop playing with his best friend Kareem, whose father is taken away one afternoon on suspicion of treason …
"The car pulled over in front of Kareen’s house. Kareem froze, as if his heart had dropped into his shoes. Four men got out, leaving the doors open. The car was like a giant dead moth in the sun. Three of the men ran inside the house, the fourth, who was the driver and seemed to be their leader, waited on the pavement. He smiled at the two fat brothers Masoud and Ali. I didn’t register then that he knew them. None of use had seen him before. He had a horrible face, pockmarked like pumice stone. His men reappeared, holding Ustath Rashid between them. He didn’t struggle. Auntie Salma trailed behind as if an invisible string connected her to her husband. The man with the pockmarked face slapped Ustath Rashid, suddenly and ferociously. It sounded like fabric tearing, it stopped Auntie Salma…
… Ustath Rashid looked towards us, and when his eyes met Kareem’s, his face changed. He looked like he was about to cry or vomit. Then he doubled over and began to cough. The men seemed not to know what to do. They looked at each other, then at Auntie Salma, who had one hand over her mouth, the other clasped around her braided hair that fell as thick as an anchor rope over her shoulder. They grabbed Ustath Rashid, threw him into the car, slammed the doors shut and sped between us, crushing our goal posts. I couldn’t see Ustath Rashid’s head between the two men sitting on either side of him in the back seat; he must have been coughing still."
The rumours start to fly, and everyone lives in fear that their family will be next to be accused of treason – there is a complex web of betrayals and back-scratching toadying. In this poisonous atmosphere, Suleiman becomes fascinated by Sharief, the pockmarked abductor who starts watching his father’s house – and you know no good can come of it.
Matar is an extremely eloquent writer. There are some wonderful descriptions – "The car was like a giant dead moth in the sun", yet when he has to, he can be brutal and matter of fact – in describing a hanging for instance. The relationships between the boys, Suleiman and his friends are encapsulated by their games of oneupmanship and casual but hurtful joshing. The book creates a vivid and sad picture of growing up under Gaddafi’s regime, and it was hard to believe that this is Matar’s first novel. Highly recommended. (8.5/10)
While the culture and setting will be unfamiliar to many readers, Slooma's dysfunctional family situation will be all too familiar for some. Slooma's fears, the responsibility he feels for taking care of his mother during her bouts of “illness”, and his exposure to violence eventually affect his behavior. I alternated between sympathy and revulsion as Slooma began to act cruelly toward those who were weaker than he was. I think the fact that he manages to portray Slooma as both a victim and, more subtly, as an abuser says something about Matar's skill as a writer.
This is a thought provoking look at a world where children grow up watching interrogations and executions of television. It compares favorably with "The Kite Runner", although it is much shorter and less complex.
In the Country of Men is a gripping account, from a small boy's perspective, of Gaddafi's infamous terror
There are a several difficult issues tackled in Suleiman's first-person narrative, each coated with a blasé haze of childish charm. The exterior ones among these, include gender inequality and societal persecution, but Hisham Matar dares to venture deeper as the story spins around the values of family, friendship, nationalism, and the definition of loyalty. He portrays in deliberate precision and indelicacy, the oppression of not only women, but also of humans and human rights; this is all poignant, truthful, and startlingly refreshing.
Facets of the narrator's childhood make him the most vulnerable, and yet most potent character. Most of the other characters are shallow or, as with the central themes, influenced by Suleiman's innocence and lack of awareness, but they are nevertheless lyrically and memorably described.
I'll admit this book was a bit slow for first half, but the second half blew me away. In the Country of Men is not the sort of book I'll soon forget. Hisham Matar has woven a brilliant novel on what it is to be family, what it means to grow up, and what it takes to be free, because they are all—the author claims—achievable aspirations... but only to few, in the land of men.
Pros: Raw, uncensored // Stunning literary style with both graceful and repulsive notes // Fascinating perspective of Gaddafi's Libya // Impressive stylistically, historically, and culturally // Mesmerizing and haunting // Unforgettable
Cons: Slow-moving start // Dry at times
Love: I am in love with the way Matar writes:
"If love starts somewhere, if it is a hidden force that is brought out by a person, like light off a mirror, for me that person was her. There was anger, there was pity, even the dark warm embrace of hate, but always love and always the joy that surrounds the beginning of love."
"Grief loves the hollow, all it wants is to hear its own echo. Be careful."
"[In me], there is this void, this emptiness I am trying to get at like someone frightened of the dark, searching for a match to strike. I see it in others, this emptiness. My expression shifts constantly, like that of a prostitute who waits in your car while you run across a busy road to buy a new pack of cigarettes for the night. When you walk back, ripping the cellophane, before she has time to see you, you catch sight of her, temporarily settled in another role as a sister or a wife or a friend. How readily and thinly we procure these fictional selves, deceiving the world and what we might have become if only we hadn't got in the way, if only we had waited to see what might have become of us."
Verdict: Hisham Matar's literary debut glitters in the backdrop of 1979 Tripoli and lingers in the yearning mind. Every so often you pick up a book so resonating and so captive of emotional truth, that it sends shivers down your spine and leaves an ache in your chest. In the Country of Men is one of those books.
Rating: 8 out of 10 hearts (4 stars): An engaging read; highly recommended.
Source: Complimentary copy provided by TripFiction in exchange for an honest and unbiased review (thank you!).
Young Soulieman watches his pretty mother like a hawk. He takes his cues from her, and would like nothing more than to wish her angst away. He hates it when she's "sick" (drinking), because it messes with his secure childhood. Like most boys his age, he idolizes his father, who, apart from a few gratifying episodes, remains fairly aloof from his son. Qadhafi's early regime is literally brought home in all its horrific detail. Soulieman witnesses far too much ghastly reality, and this is another strength of this book. There is a hint of hopefulness at the book's conclusion, after the narrator has lived in Cairo for some years.
This is one of the political books which is well-received by the public, particularly the influential public. It was short-listed for the Man Booker Prize. Its portrayal of a young boys' life and times, and his reaction to them is real and moving. The plot moves along slowly, however, and follows the boy's perceptions a little too closely to get any perspective. Perhaps that is the main point. A good book, no doubt. I am, however, a little mystified at the Man Booker Prize consideration.
The timeframe lengthens and events come faster. As the boy grows, the inevitable separation from the parents occurs, and the author weaves the hope of the boy and the bitterness of separation in a way that saves the reader--the boy had been prepared for this by the distance his parents had created through their lies to him.
The book is a political statement, and a reminder that so many people in the world live in a place where they must be always believing and acting so as to not arouse ire and authoritarian excesses.
At the heart, this is a book about betrayal and its effects, but it does not examine the matter as closely as hoped.
This was a rare event - a book club choice that everyone rated at between 4 and 5 stars. I think the only other book to achieve this recently was Hisham Matar's more recent book, Anatomy of a Disappearance. We are definitely fans of his work. Unfortunately he seems to take about 5 years
Narrated by 9 year-old Suleiman, this novel perfectly describes a young boy's confusion when surrounded by oppression and its spin-offs, while not really understanding what he is seeing. He protects his mother, yet expresses cruelty to other boys and the local tramp - those he is able to bully.
The novel is set in 1979 when Qaddafi was all-powerful, and his word was law. Suspicion fell upon those thought to be against the regime and punishment was brutal. When the finger is pointed at a neighbour and close friend of Suleiman's father, the tension is palpable.
There were some distinct similarities between Matar's two books, particularly the depressed mother and the telling of the narrative from a young boy's point of view. Also the exile into Cairo. (We know that Matar's family was originally Libyan and left to settle in Cairo, which then begs the question as to his mother's state of health?)
Sadly we may have to wait a while for another book by Hisham Matar, but when it hits the shelves, we'll be there!
To Suleiman, life in Tripoli is a mystery. He doesn't understand why his father tells him he is going abroad on a business
During the course of the novel, Suleiman is plagued by many horrors. His best friend Kareem's father, Ustath Rashid, disappears. Men from the government come to his home to question his mother about the whereabouts of his father. After that visit, his father's friend Moosa and his mother burn all of his father's books – except one. Suleiman believes that he is helping his father by saving one book, called Democracy Now, and hiding it under his mattress. He talks to the government agent who is constantly parked in front of their house, and is duped into providing information about his father's friends, thinking that he is helping vouch for his father's character. His father, too, has been taken into custody. Suleiman witnesses Ustath Rashid being publicly executed in a basketball stadium, on national television. After his mother intercedes on his father's behalf with a neighbour with some pull with the Guide, Suleiman witnesses his beaten and broken father returning home.
This is a life that no nine-year-old should ever have to experience. Matar renders the execution scene in the basketball stadium with horrifying emotion and detail. This is a simple, but poignant story.