Wizard of the Crow

I've mentioned this before, but I work in publishing, and the other day I overheard two coworkers talking about book descriptors they hated (personally, I've got a bone to pick with "luminous," but we'll save that for another day). One said, "Every time a book says 'magisterial' in its flap copy, I know it's going to be long and boring."

Well, Wizard of the Crow is an exception to that proclamation—maybe the exception that proves the rule, but an exception nonetheless. Because it may be long (clocking in at a healthy 760 pages) but it's not at all boring. In fact it was a joy to read. Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o's satirical epic of authoritarianism and resistance manages to be so many things at once: wondrous, brutal, tragic, hilarious, show more surreal, beautiful, dark, absurd.

I think a book this vital could only be produced by someone who has lived through dictatorship—Ngũgĩ was a political prisoner in his native Kenya, writing his novel Devil on the Cross on toilet paper in a cramped cell and living in exile for decades following his release. So I trust what he has to say (however indirectly, as this is a fantastical book set in the fictional Free Republic of Aburĩria) about the way dictators wield fear and chaos, the legacy of colonialist violence, and the potency of imagining the future.

It's hard to say much more than that because so much happens in The Wizard of the Crow. Despite its political verve, it is first and foremost just a really good story, complete with villains, magic, and heroes, daring escapes and transcendent love. It's no coincidence that the act of storytelling itself features so heavily in the plot.

This is a hugely overlooked gem of a book. I'm eager to read more of Ngũgĩ's work; we'll see if it's all just as magisterial.

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Global Challenge: Kenya show less

There are quite a few legends in this world. One of the oldest tells of how the people of Babylon decided to build a tower all the way up to Heaven. But to no one’s great surprise, The Lord disapproved, and not only did he tear the tower down but by making everyone speak different languages he also made sure that nothing like it would ever happen again.

Bah humbug, says the dictator of the compleeetely fictional African country of Aburiria (really, it has absolutely nothing to do with wa Thiong'o's native Kenya. Really.) He’s ruled the country with an iron fist almost since the day the English left, he’s both the ruler and the lord of everyone, and nobody’s going to tell him that there are limits to his power. No, he’s going to show more build a modern Tower of Babel and march all the way to the stars to show the world that Africa can do things the West can’t even imagine. All he needs to get it going is to a) use both whips and carrots to convince the people that this is much more important than nonsense such as democracy, jobs and food, and b) convince the World Bank to finance it since Aburiria doesn’t actually have much money of its own. How difficult can it be? Thanks to the English language there’s a common lingua franca again, just like back in the day, and in these neo-colonialist days borrowing money shouldn’t be a problem as long as you’re prepared to pay interest. As one character notes, it's funny how "independence" came to mean "dependence."

But of course, the Ruler hasn’t taken the wizard of the book’s title into account. Which is one of the few things he can be excused for, since the wizard hasn’t taken himself into account either; he’s just an out-of-work academic who, while running from the police together with a woman from the resistance, makes up a story based on an old folk tale to make himself scarier than he really is. But before he knows it, the legend of the magic of the crow has spread and everyone – politicians, businessmen and the huddled masses – want his help to get ahead in the world. And somewhere around that time the magic, which began as a hoax, starts to gather real power.

wa Thiong’o’s huge novel has enough dashes of magical realism and modern-day fairytale to be compared to both Márquez and Rushdie (as indeed it has), but for my part, I keep thinking that this is more like an African take on Bulgakov’s The Master And Margarita. It’s got the same wildly disrespectful and bawdy sense of humour, coupled with a pissed-off, clear-sighted social critique that seems to want to kick over the whole damn tower of power hunger, nepotism, sexism, racism and faceless structures, all set to notes of both ancient myths and modern thinking that sometimes collides wildly and sometimes fuses into something completely new.

For a parallel, consider this. A somewhat younger legend than the Tower of Babel concerns Great Zimbabwe, the very real and ancient stone city in Southern Africa, which the newly colonized Africans back in the day claimed to be have been built by their ancestors. Their new rulers, of course, laughed at this idea (even when their own archaelogists confirmed it); since the white race was superior, something this big must have been built by white people, ergo they were simply reclaiming their rights to rule Africa. The logic of the victorious can often seem a bit weird in hindsight, when all the evidence has been twisted to serve the purpose of the one with the power to enforce his interpretation on others.

Aburiria is clearly based on Kenya and the Ruler on Daniel Arap Moi, but Wizard of the Crow is bigger than that; it’s a furious satire on all sorts of oppression, whether based on political, economical or physical power, and the Ruler echoes both Pinochet, Honecker and Putin. The West uses Africa, whose dictators use the military and police to use the people, where the men turn to the only outlet that remains and use the women. Lick up, kick down, shit flows downhill. wa Thiong’o constantly plays around with language; hardly a surprise, since he was one of the first African writers to refuse to write in English and instead write in his native tongue – something which cost him a year in jail and eventually exile when the regime didn’t like what he wrote. The value of language seeps through everything here; all old sayings, Bible verses, and English platitudes are twisted by those in power until the language itself becomes a trap the powerless must find their way out of. (In one scene, our hero remembers an old girlfriend who told him the story of how Jesus asked his disciples to become fishers of men – only to spot her on a street corner in a miniskirt, wasting away from HIV, still fishing for men. On a lighter note, there’s a misquote of Descartes that eventually turns into a linguistic virus that almost overthrows the government by itself.) And the way out turns out to be through storytelling; the legend of the people’s wizard, who can hold up a mirror and change the world, causing those in power to panic and become ever more paranoid. Just like in Bulgakov everything turns upside down, roles reverse and re-reverse, laughter goes from the bitter to the uproarious and back. wa Thiong’o’s language is a fantastic mix of colourful folk tale and modern novel, complex without being too complicated, hilarious without dropping its serious undertone, and it’s one of the most rewarding novels I’ve read all year. At 768 pages it might be a bit longer than it needs to be, but even the bits that aren't strictly necessary are simply too much fun to want gone.

The world keeps creating new legends, and they don’t necessarily need to be true to be strong enough to tear down towers. One of the newest is about an African grass roots movement where men and women work as equals, unite old truths with education and new ideas and only demand to control their own future. I don’t know how true that one is or can be, but it makes a cracking good read. show less

This is a monumental, epic book that encompasses most of Africa's post-colonial history, and one which I feel hopelessly unqualified to review.

It was originally written in the Gĩkũyũ language, for local consumption in Kenya, and was translated into English by the author himself. It is an outrageous mixture of fantasy, farce and social commentary which draws on history, religion and local mythology. At different times I was reminded of Bulgakov, Rushdie and Marquez, but it occupies a truly unique space of its own. It is surprisingly easy to read for such a big complex book and is often very funny.

At its heart is the fictional Free Republic of Aburĩria, which has been ruled seemingly in perpetuity by a brutal despot known simply as show more The Ruler. From the start it becomes clear that there are outrageous and supernatural elements at play. The Ruler's principal advisers are Machokali, whose eyes have been surgically enlarged for his role as the eyes of the ruler, and Sikiokuu, who has done something similar with his ears. Their latest scheme to aggrandise the Ruler is a grandiose project called Marching to Heaven, which involves building a new wonder of the world, a tower to surpass the Biblical Tower of Babel, and the building project aims to draw funding from the Global Bank.

Meanwhile a young man Kamĩtĩ is trying to find a job after returning from India with a degree. In the process, he meets Nyawĩra, who is working as a secretary for a construction company run by Titus Tajirika, but is also involved in a resistance group largely composed of women. While they are fleeing from police after a demonstration, Kamĩtĩ successfully reinvents himself as The Wizard of the Crow.

This is just the start of an epic good and evil struggle, full of outrageous imagination.

Thiong'o never entirely loses track of the hope that Africa's corrupt elites can be defeated by the unified will of its people. The storytelling owes much to local narrative traditions and normal ideas of what is plausible and rational do not apply, but at the core is a strong moral parable and some telling ideas on the sources of Africa's problems and its perennial exploitation by the Western powers and particularly America.

Thanks to The Mookse and the Gripes group, whose inclusion of this book in their Mookse Madness discussion/competition earlier this year prompted me to read it. A unique and powerful book, and one I expect to remember long after reading it. show less

This sprawling satirical story is set in the fictitious African country Aburiria, which I understand resembles author [[Ngugi wa 'Thiong'o]]'s home country Kenya when it was under a dictatorship. The "Ruler" is an awful, totally self-centered man who is convinced the people love him even when they show how much he is detested. There are obvious similarities to self-obsessed dictators like Mobutu and Idi Amin. All his yes-men are busy trying to outmaneuver the others for his affection, and each secretly dreams of becoming the ruler himself. When the Ruler endorses an absurd project to build a tower to Heaven to show he's better than biblical predecessors, his sycophants can hardly contain themselves in their efforts to support it, and to show more secretly benefit from the inflow of money. Lengthy queues begin to form at appropriate government offices, filled with those planning to give a bribe in exchange for future rewards from the project. A huge funding loan is sought from a western bank, which then wants to scrutinize government operations.

Aligned against the Ruler and his parasites is job-seeking Kamiti, who can physically smell corruption (which often torments him in this endlessly corrupt country), and lovely Nyawira, a rebel group's leader who smells like flowers to Kamiti. Kamiti has herbal healing skills, and through various humorous twists becomes recognized as the miracle-working "Wizard of the Crow", whose assistance is sought by sycophants and rebels alike. His clever, intuitive solutions, with the assistance of a mirror, to the problems brought to him, comprise many of the highlights of the book.

The satirical dissection of post-colonial Africa is merciless. One sycophant, for example, is suffering so from "white-ache", the desire to be a British white man, that he can no longer say anything more than "If". His cure from the Wizard of the Crow may lie in finding out what it's like to be a member of a former power outstripped by history. Can Kamiti and Nyawira lead the rebels to toppling the absurd, corrupt regime of the Ruler, even while darting into the heart of it, and colliding with that regime in various dangerous roles? Can Kamiti turn his perceived wizarding skills to the rebellion's advantage? Can Kamiti and Nyawira find a sustainable life together in this crazy country?

I've mentioned before that the book made me think of a diverse group of works - [Tom Jones], as a rambling adventure story without the bawdiness, [Catch-22] in its satire of war and government, [Dr. Strangelove] for the same. It apparently was first serialized, so it has that episodic story quality of various [Dickens] novels, too. The New York Times reviewer said "it recalls a long yarn told by firelight." It was written in a Kenyan language that derives from an oral tradition, and then translated by the author. This all makes for a different kind of read than I previously have encountered, one that made me laugh and cheer on the exploits of Kamiti and Nyawira. At the same time, the novel casts a fierce satirical eye on a horribly corrupt government. I understand that this despotic rule, while taken to absurd lengths, unfortunately has strong roots in reality show less

The Wizard of the Crow begins with two queues. One forms in front of the office of a newly-appointed government official, made up of people looking for their own slice of governmental authority. The other line – which, as time goes on, attracts much of this first group – is for a counter-cultural and anti-institutional authority. The Wizard of the Crow comes to be known as a healer and prophet, even more powerful than the government officials in what he is able to make people do. Which, of course, is unacceptable. So the ruler of Aburiria decrees a warrant for the arrest of the Wizard and the havoc he has caused among the lower classes.

If he knew who the Wizard actually was, though, the idea of a threat would be either laughable or show more even more alarming than he thinks. Nyawira and Kamiti are two struggling young people, with wits but not means to access the country’s vicious economic power struggles. So their disdain for the power-hungry officials ends up being more powerful in its own right, as they sow the seeds of self-doubt and insecurity among the high and mighty. Nyawira’s and Kamiti’s awareness that they have little to lose, relative to these authority figures, paradoxically empowers them.

When one official visits the Wizard, he compliments Kamiti: “When I heard of the Wizard of the Crow, I thought of an old man, of seventy years or more, supporting himself with a walking stick. And now, behold! A young man in a designer suit. A modern sorcerer, eh? Or is it postmodern?”
“Postcolonial,” the Wizard of the Crow added.

And so it is. The Wizard’s rebellion against the ruler and government, out of touch with their people, is postcolonial in the empowerment and autonomy it allows for the people rather than the institution. The Wizard of the Crow does not just speak to the colonial experience of many African nations; it speaks to the experience of every oppressed group which finds and raises an alternative voice, subversively either matching or mocking the tone of those in power. show less

I loved this novel. There is so much that it is hard for me to really get into a good review, but I’ll try to work through some thoughts. Set in a fictitious African country, the reader is presented with an outrageous (and recognizable) dictator, his cabinet members and various politicos, corrupt businessmen, and our protagonists, Kamiti, an accidental sorcerer, and Nyawira, a political revolutionary. The Ruler, for his birthday, plans to build a modern Tower of Babel, financed by the Global Bank, and a series of satirical events pile onto one another.

It’s a very hard book to summarize. First, it is extremely long and dense. It delves into folklore, satire, allegory, fantasy, and comedy. Among the very sharp witted political show more observations, one explores the psyche and relationship of Kamiti and Nyawira, two delightfully independent people. (I find often when there is a romance in a novel, the main characters become semi-monolithic.)

This was a delightful read – fast-paced, poignant, humorous, and hopeful. Highly recommend. show less

I was first introduced to Ngugi's novels in my African literature class when I was an undergrad. My mentor, Peter Nazareth, who also teaches an incredible course on Elvis Presley, went to college with Ngugi in Uganda and postgraduate school in Leeds, England. The only writer from Africa I'd read up until that course was Achebe, but there are so many truly amazing novels by Africans out there that most Americans simply don't know about--a whole literature that goes far beyond Things Fall Apart: The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born by Armah, Maru by Bessie Head, A Season of Migration to the North by Salih, The Famished Road by Okri, The Palm-Wine Drunkard by Tutuola, The Book of Secrets by Vassanji, Nehanda by Vera, A Walk in the Night by show more La Guma, The General Is Up by my mentor Peter Nazareth, and on and on. The best storyteller among them all, however, I must say, in my own opinion, is Ngugi wa Thiong'o. From his first works on up, they've just been better and better. A Grain of Wheat was the first I read, all about England giving up colonial power over Kenya, the Mau Mau movement, and Gikuyu culture. Another of his novels I love and have read several times is Devil on the Cross. He was detained by the Kenyan government in the late seventies after his novel Petals of Blood sparked the popular imagination and made him a threat to the regime. While in detention, he wrote Devil on the Cross, I'm told partly on toilet paper as it was all there was to write upon. Soaring with magic realism, it gives a mythic, moral critique of the Kenya he was experiencing. It's one of the great books I've read. And until this summer, it was my favorite of his works.

His latest book is Wizard of the Crow and I literally don't have the skills to convey how great it is. It's been awhile since he published a novel. His last novel before this was Matigari, which he wrote in 1983-84, first in Gikuyu and then translated it himself into English (as he'd done with Devil on the Cross). Over twenty years, then, since he finished his last novel. As it's published, it's 766 pages long, his longest work. And, I have to say, it is his best. It is the kind of story that cannot be written quickly, it's scope encompassing much more than most novels do. This was a book that demanded incubation.

Wizard of the Crow isn't so much an African novel as it is a novel that explores Africa in a global context. It focuses on a fictitious country called Aburiria, which is controlled by a dictator called The Ruler. He's completely bonkers, and it isn't hard for me to see Idi Amin in this leader--the Ngatho - Acknowledgments at the end also point back to the Moi dictatorship of Kenya. But he, and his cabinet (with men who've undergone impossible plastic surgeries in Europe to have lightbulb-sized eyes and forearm-length ears--so as to be the eyes and ears of the country), aren't the only villains in this book. There's also the greedy businessmen and the Global Bank, who come to consider giving The Ruler money to build his very own tower of Babel so that he can speak to God every morning. On top of that, the country's money is cursed, giving off an overpowering stench to those people sensitive enough to such things as corruption, greed, and evil.

There are good guys, too, though. Of course there are. Ngugi isn't one of those writers who turns his back on hope. Kamiti is a young man, educated postgrad in India, who has been homeless and unemployed for several years after graduating--no one in Aburiria will hire him. He falls into his role as the Wizard of the Crow after pulling a prank to get a cop off his tail. He doesn't believe the mumbo jumbo he speaks, but everyone around hears of his powers and believes he's a healer and incredible sorcerer. Nyawira is a young woman he meets and the two of them develop an intense bond. She's tough, secretly being one of the top members of an underground movement that is against The Ruler and his barbaric administration. She also, interestingly, comes to wear the mantle of the Wizard of the Crow.

Ngugi's satirical edge is sharper than it's ever been, and he really cuts open the lies and shams of the world to get down to what's really moral and good in human beings. I can't recommend this novel enough. If you're already into novels by African writers, you'll love this and might be amazed, as I have been, at how he ties the African experience together within the bigger picture. And if you haven't read any novels by Africans before, well, this is the one to read. It's got it all. show less