Despite not really liking the main characters who were understandably depressed and discouraged with their lot in the US, this book has much to be liked. The author's use of quotes from Danta and deToqueville added meaning and offered some hope for these immigrants that they might one day find success and happiness. ( )

This book examines the immigrant experience, in this case the African immigrant in America battling cultural reorientation and economic struggles.

The book I immediately think of in comparison is Rose Tremain’s The Road Home, which describes an Eastern European man adjusting to life in England. Unfortunately, it is not in the same 5 star category - in my opinion, the Tremain book had more depth and character development. In both cases there is the struggle with memories of home and family, a search for regained dignity and parameters – both social and cultural.

Stephanos is the narrator and he describes an isolated world, trapped between his African heritage and the world of the American.

The title reflects the writer’s struggles to leave behind a hellish world and emerge into a more beautiful space. It is an immortal line from the epic poem by Dante, telling of his escape from hell with his guide Virgil:

“We climbed up, he first and I second, so far that through a round opening I saw some of the beautiful things that Heaven bears; and thence we issued forth to see again the stars.”

These issues of the immigrant experience are important and necessary to examine, and the underlying struggle is one of poverty, disconnection, and loneliness. The Dantian revelation suggested by the title does not appear to emerge through the book. Instead, there is disillusionment, reflected in scenes of racism and social intolerance.

It was a smooth and gentle read, filled with satisfying narrative and important issues. Perhaps too littered with aphorisms for my taste, and a tad too distracted and disjointed in the second half, it was nevertheless a worthwhile and laudable first novel. ( )

“The beautiful things that heaven bears” is a line from a passage in Dante’s Inferno, in which Dante is emerging from hell. According to one of the characters in the book, “no one can understand that line like an African because that is what we lived through. Hell every day with only glimpses of heaven in between.” The passage is definitely a metaphor for Sepha’s story, whose existence seems to be just one long, endless trudge through life. I enjoy books like this that give me a glimpse of life in a different culture than my own, but I think that in some ways this book is a little too subtle. For example, when the “series of racial incidents disturbs the community”, I wouldn’t have known they were racial incidents if the back of the book hadn’t said so. They could just as easily been class-based as race-based. Also, the pacing of the story was difficult for me to follow. The story jumps back and forth in time, and once in a while I would lose track of where I was in the timeline. I think I would have enjoyed learning more about the culture than just about Sepha. Overall, this was a well-written novel, but it left me wanting more — or maybe, just something different. ( )

How wonderful it is to find a first novel that feels so accomplished and tells such an engrossing story. I can't imagine that real, enjoyable talent is becoming rarer in a world that contains such eloquent proofs of its health.

Mengestu tells the story of three friends, African immigrants all, who meet in Washington DC, for so long the home territory of nativist sentiment in our republic of exclusion. I don't think a recap of the plot will help anyone decide whether or not to buy the book, because its outlines are simple: Men seeking material success in the motherland of same are thwarted and, through effort and good fortune, succeed at things they weren't looking to succeed at...temporarily.

A fire plays a major role in completing the story, and since I am currently seeing a fireman, that caught my eye. It's not, to my surprise, used as a pat plot device, but imbued with a real sense of the inevitability of sadness, loss, and change in the entwined lives of three lovely characters. Naomi, to name but one, is a heartbreakingly well observed actor in the piece despite her tender years, and Judith her mother is such a deftly drawn, conflicted, real person that I was tempted to look her up in the phone book; as for Sepha, he can come stay with me until things get better. That's the kind of connection Mengestu's characters call forth in me, and I hope in you too.

Bravo, Dinaw Mengestu. Thanks. Write...well, publish...more soon, please. Recommended for all readers of fiction. ( )

Mengestu's 2007 debut novel is an intriguing if polarizing tapestry, a work that is subtle and reveals its layers patiently but, despite its great beauty, seems at times to not have much of a story to tell.

The novel revolves around the tribulations of an Ethiopian immigrant named Sepha who lives and owns a small mini-mart in the Logan Circle neighborhood of Washington, DC. He and his fellow immigrant friends lament their lack of opportunities and the tortured histories that brought each to America. When a white woman named Judith moves into the largely black neighborhood, she not only triggers unrest amongst the locals but promises to change Sepha's life for the better.

Mengestu's style is simple but intoxicating, his spare sentences making for great readability and his command of the novel's alternating temporality betraying an unusually high level of skill. What is perhaps most frustrating about the novel's pacing, then, is that not much happens during its course: to read the trade paperback's blurb on the back is to give away events that occur very near the climax of the book, events that are far less exciting as plot devices than the blurb would make it seem. This, have no doubt, is a novel of moods.

What makes the work seem most plausible, however, is the transitory nature of the main characters. Sepha, Joseph, and Kenneth each have their own reasons for coming to America, and each has reached varying levels of success, and though we only get deep glimpses into Sepha's story, his history adds a humanity to him that might have been lost if Mengestu would have simply cast him as the typical immigrant store-owner. I did not find the payoff nearly as satisfying as the rising action, but if you're not expecting a radical denouement, the read is surprisingly exciting and moving.

The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears may not be, at least in my mind, the rookie masterpiece that many critics have claimed it to be, it is nonetheless an impressive and evocative effort that has interesting things to suggest about exile and American life. And it declares that Mengestu is a strong, confident voice that will be worth watching for in the future.