In the Country of Men (original 2006; edition 2007)

I'm normally not a fan of historical fiction, but as a world literature lover, I couldn't help but try this one. Even though it was a little difficult to get into, I am so, so glad I did.

In the Country of Men is a gripping account, from a small boy's perspective, of Gaddafi's infamous terror regime. It shimmers in the triumphs and fumes in the horrors of the the Libyan revolution of 1979, and expertly depicts Libyan culture and customs—the entire "world full of men and the greed of men"—as well. I found this a shocking, affecting read, and be forewarned: this book hits hard and will leave bruises.

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!). ( )

A very impressive read.
This book has been sitting on my shelf for a while already and now I've read it, I'm not quite sure why. It may have been the combination of 'Africa' and view from child, I don't know.

What I do know is, that it was a great read. Emotional, oppressive, impressive, a very clear book about the way people live(d) in Libya at the end of the 70's, early 80's. Suspicion, fear, totalitarian regime. Reading as an adult, I got that from the beginning of the book. Having heared stories about East-Germany, the Soviet Union, visiting these countries just after the fall of the wall, reading this book made me feel like I was back in Eastern Europe / Russia again.

From the point of view of a child it is all very blurry. Parents should be trusted, but what if they keep secrets? (They need to, because if the child tells, their lives are at stake.) The child sees only that his mother's taking medicine when his father is on business trips. He has no clue why the telephone line is echoing, why there's suddenly a big portrait of Khadaffi on their wall.

The child is eventually sent abroad, to have a better life. But even that is in vain: when a few years later all comes together, things didn't turn out as bad as they had feared.

Does the book have a good ending or a bad ending? I'm not sure. I think it is somewhere in the middle. Some things turned out well (Suleiman studies well and has a job), other things not so well (his father dies, he's still alone, abroad).
Despite it is fiction, I still have the feeling that I read a book that could have been true. It was very impressive. ( )

It is difficult to empathize with the damaged boy at the centre of this story. Set in Gaddafi's Libya, the boy becomes inevitably complicit in the brutality and betrayal that permeate his life. The problem is that one does not sense any resistance to this complicity, he just seems hollow and reactive. The one compelling character in the novel is the boy's 23 year old mother, who in spite being victimized in just about every conceivable way, still manages, in this miserable country of men, to behave honourably. ( )

Libya.

One of the better novels I've read recently. Matar gives us a narrative from a boy's point of view. Suleiman's story of his family life Libya under Qaddafi is not a war narrative, but partakes of many of that genre's elements, much like Ondjaki's Good Morning Comrades. Matar's parallels, while not subtle, are also not too crudely rendered. Though this is a political story, its fire derives from the conflicting constellations of loyalty and repugnance within his family. A terrific oedipal tale that also reveals life in totalitarian Libya. ( )

I think In the Country of Men is one of the saddest books I have ever read.

I am recalling now that last summer before I was sent away. It was 1979, and the sun was everywhere. Tripoli lay brilliant and still beneath it.

Thus begins the memoir narration of Suleiman, who we later learn is a 24 year-old Libyan exile living in Egypt. But in 1979, he was 9 years old and was drawn in the political upheaval and repression that marked the early years of the Gaddafi regime. Suleiman's father, involved in an anti-Gaddafi movement, is rarely home, and his mother, resentful of her arranged marriage, drinks herself into stupors with liquor obtained from the local druggist.

The child is drawn into situations he doesn't understand and is the unwitting, yet not entirely ignorant, agent of terrible harm to those he loves. He is seduced by power and fear to betrayals he does not understand -- a child living in a country of men who do not care about the vulnerability of the sensitive.

Matar's book was a well-deserved finalist for the Booker Prize. ( )