Tag Archives: Book Review

Impressions and Review of Safdar Ahmed’s Graphic Novel Still Alive: Notes from Australia’s Immigration Detention System

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by Angela Agelopoulou

I decided to analyze Safdar Ahmed’s Still Alive: Notes from Australia’s Immigration Detention System for the class “Migration in Visual Narratives”, which deals with the migration journey portrayed in various types of visual narratives.

Introduction

As I had already participated in a seminar that dealt with migration to Australia and the conditions in Australia’s detention centres, I was very interested to read Safdar Ahmed’s graphic novel. While the full graphic novel was published in 2021, a small part had already been published online as the webcomic Villawood: Notes from an immigration detention centre in 2015. I will make a close comparison between these two narratives in the following subpoint, however, I want to first summarize the plot of Still Alive briefly.  The graphic novel shows the stories and lives of refugees being kept in an immigration detention centre in Villawood, Sydney.  These people find themselves seeking asylum in Australia due to war and violence in their home countries. While it is the task of the Australian government to protect the refugees, the graphic novel shows the cruel reality of those needing protection: The refugees are faced with great challenges during their journey by boat but also upon arrival. All stories told in Still Alive are based on true events, as Ahmed ran art classes in Villawood and there met refugees willing to share their stories.

Impressions

Even though I do have some knowledge about Australia’s detention centres, going through Still Alive was a very heartbreaking experience for me, as I felt deep sorrow while reading and seeing the stories of the refugees. I was overwhelmed by a sad and sickening feeling while going through both, the graphic novel and the webcomic. One thing I found especially shocking was the slogan of Serco, being “people are our business”. The slogan emphasizes that asylum seekers are not seen as human beings but as objects. Furthermore, it was also horrifying to read about the terrible treatment of the refugees (being physically and mentally abused and not being allowed to mourn their loved ones). The webcomic and the graphic novel do have some minor differences, for example, the graphic novel, unlike the webcomic, does not make use of colors, further emphasizing the hopelessness of the refugees. Moreover, the graphic novel has considerably more panels that are clustered together (emphasizing the feeling of being trapped) and uses a horror aesthetic, which should make it easier to talk about difficult topics, such as trauma. While these two narratives differ from one another, the effect they have on their readers stays the same: engaging with the graphic novel and the webcomic takes an emotional toll on the readers and shows the cruel reality of the world we are living in.

Art as a way of coping with trauma

The asylum seekers arriving in the detention centre knew that their migration journey would be long and dangerous. They knew that they decided to go on a journey, where they might be abused, experience loss, or even die. What they didn’t know was that their struggles would continue once arriving in the country that should keep them safe. The conditions in Australia’s detention centres are beyond cruel. The refugees are being controlled 24/7 and moving is heavily restricted. Detention centres resemble high-security prisons, where the guards abuse those detained for no reason. They are also the reason for self-harm, depression, and anxiety. Still Alive shows how the refugees deal with these feelings by drawing out their experiences, their situation, and also their migration journey. One refugee’s drawing for example shows a chessboard surrounded by barbed wire, while another shows a Taliban soldier holding four heads with the title of the drawing being “Death”. Especially in detention centres, where recordings are strictly prohibited, drawing is an effective way of expressing one’s feelings. Moreover, it is a way for the refugees to be in control and also to experience freedom. In the graphic novel, Ahmed describes the importance of art as followes: “Art and storytelling allow trauma to be visualized, externalized, and re-embedded in its context, which provides a greater feeling of safety and distance from it over time.” (22)

Conclusion

Still Alive by Safdar Ahmed gives a voice to the people who don’t often have one. The drawings and photographs portrayed in the graphic novel remind the readers of the lives being abused in Villawood, but also in other detention centres. It is a call to rise up and support the refugees and reject Australia’s detention centres that do not recognize the refugees’ lives. 

Voyeuristic Curiosity: Thoughts on Safdar Ahmed’s “Villawood”

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Safdar Ahmed’s Villawood: Notes from an Immigration Detention Center depicts the treatment of immigrants in Australian detention center, Villawood. Through his webcomic, Ahmed shares the stories of several refugees while also showcasing the center’s cruel conditions and unfair treatment of its residents. 

Voyeuristic Curiosity

In a particular poignant panel set, a woman asks a refugee about his past, wondering why he left and the traumas he endured. Instead of answering, the man turns the tables and demands the woman spill her worst trauma. In three simple panels, Ahmed shows the danger of entitlement to someone’s life story. Migrants are more than stories to be read. They are real people affected by their past and living in the present. They are not here to satiate someone’s morbid curiosity. Even Ahmed notes that he feels “like a prick for being so voyeuristic in the first place.” 

Humanizing the Human

Ahmed, then, is tasked with a difficult objective: he must humanize the Villawood residents without turning them into palpable packages of trauma for the average reader to consume and feel good about themselves. He must skirt the line of “trauma-porn” while also showcasing the cruel realities these migrants are subjected to. A webcomic like his attracts the morbid voyeur, so how can he tell a story that doesn’t serve to satiate the sadist in us and instead serves as a platform for the Villawood residents to unearth their experiences? Ahmed does this in several ways that, as a reader, I found both impactful and respectful. Through the use of voice and perspective, Ahmed allows specific individuals to tell their own stories. As they narrate, he gives us information on who they are and formats their experiences in webcomic form. His own perspective sits on the sideline. In this way, Villawood becomes neither a feel-good story or an onslaught of oppression and trauma. It transcends to something higher: a true story about true people told to highlight the oppressive system and the specific people it affects.

The Story of Villawood: Told from the Inside

In the first chapter, “First Impressions,” Ahmed sets the scene of Villawood’s strict rules and regulations. Ahmed begins the comic by stating what’s not allowed in Villawood: no phones, cameras, cash, or sharp objects. After being searched, Ahmed is thrust under the watchful eye of a security camera. The center reads more prison than safe haven. Tall fences and barbed wire. Handcuffs and guard dogs. With such harsh imagery, it’s easy to imagine the people there must also be cold and hardened. Ruthless criminals rather than refugees seeking safety.

While the chapter begins with Ahmed’s first impressions and his own perspective, it ends with artwork created by people Ahmed met in Villawood. Pencil drawings of their life before. We see they fled the threat of death and oppression for a prison of a different variety. They tell us this through their art, and they begin to take control of the narrative. Ahmed’s thoughts quickly give way to the voices of the people inside Villawood.

The second chapter, “Ahmad,” focuses on the specific experiences of Ahmad Ali Jafari, a Hazara refugee. Ahmed humanizes him by sharing specific traits of Ahmad’s in the beginning of the chapter. He is not a faceless name or a blanket character for the whole of the refugee experience to be thrust upon. He is a real person with individual quirks. An artist, a poet, and a victim of Villawood’s cold cruelty. Ahmed even includes a photo of Ahmad in the webcomic, putting substance to the man besides pencil drawings and cartoons. One important thing to note is that Ahmed uses a photo that Villawood residents hung up as a form of protest and call to action. The residents themselves want the truth of Ahmad’s death to be spread. The story is shared, not appropriated. 

In the third chapter, Ahmed continues to share their story. He follows specific people as they speak about education, loneliness, and mistreatment. The residents speak for themselves while Ahmed illustrates their experiences, a trend that seems to fill the majority of the webcomic. The difference between the voyeuristic woman demanding to know a man’s trauma is that she demanded answers while the residents take control of their own voice. The reader must trust that Ahmed only tells what the residents wanted to tell and that he only shares the artwork they wished to share.

What Next?

The final set of panels in the webcomic is especially telling. Refugee Haider Ali is granted release from Villawood. He is ecstatic while his caseworker tells him he can leave while his claims proceed. The caseworker, however, laments the extra load of paperwork on her part. The comic ends with Ali staring open-mouthed and shell-shocked, the phone still to his ear. He has endured the cruel conditions of the detention center, yet he is met with complete apathy when his situation changes. If someone as close to the system as a case worker cannot recognize Ali’s humanity and joy of escape, then what does that say not only about the system itself but how the rest of society treats migrants? Isn’t the burden of paperwork and overtime worth the goal of basic human decency and humane treatment?

The last panel suggests that Ali’s journey is not over. As a refugee, he will also be tainted by the knowledge the society in which he lives does not welcome him. He’s seen as a burden, unfairly throwing paperwork on someone who chose to make filling out that very same paperwork her profession. He escaped the Taliban only to be thrust into the hold of Villawood. And he has escaped Villawood only to be treated with apathy, his celebration cut short before it truly starts. In this way, Ahmed challenges our own role within the “refugee crisis,” questioning our presuppositions while also maintaining we have no right to demand these stories from these people. Any story we listen to must be freely given, and we cannot listen to the stories until we learn to humanize people like Ali—people who experience joy and pain. People whose victories must be celebrated, no matter what may come next. And, ultimately, we must take up the burden of paperwork—doing what must be done to reform the system and help the people it was designed to hurt.

My Impressions and Review of Trung Le Nguyen’s The Magic Fish

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by Anne Schulzki

I decided to read Trung Le Nguyen’s The Magic Fish for week 5 of the class ‘Migration in Visual Narratives’, in which we talked about Migration in Digital Narratives / Vietnamese Refugee Tales in Graphic Novels.

Impressions

I had been interested in this graphic novel for quite a while but never got around to, and was thankfully not let down the least in any regard! I very much enjoyed reading this, especially because I found the use of colours in the narrative rather unique. The narrative has three parts: the present storyline, the fairytale, and some glimpses into the mother’s past and her journey from Vietnam to the US. The present is coloured in red/pink/magenta, the fairytale in dark blue/purple, and the mother’s past in yellow – which are the three primary colours. The colours not only clarify which panels belong to which part of the story, but by using them it also gave the story dimension. Sometimes, some panels are not coloured ‘correctly’, as one of Tien’s dreams is also represented in blue/purple like the fairytale narrative, possibly alluding to Tien’s belief that his dream will remain a dream – a fairytale – and will not become reality.

I loved that fairytales where interwoven in the narrative, used as a way for mother and son to bond, for the mother to learn English, but also seek help, advice, and communicate feelings and personal information by crossing the boundary of languages. The fairytale parts fitted the stories of Tien’s coming-out and his mother’s identity struggle, grief, and worries, and with that they gave them hope and answers. When they did not know how to communicate, or did not want to, they always grabbed the fairytale they were reading at that moment and continued, sometimes tweaking it a bit for it to fit their mood, struggles, worries, or emotions.

Migration in The Magic Fish

Migration as such is not the main focus of this story. Of course, Tien’s parents’ language barriers are mentioned and also illustrated within the narrative, but the aspect of the actual migration is only lightly touched upon (why his parents left Vietnam), but never their journey on its own. The aspect of migration that is most heavily touched on, however, concerns the feelings regarding leaving behind loved ones when leaving one’s home and not being able to see them for a long time. Tien’s mother was not able to go back to see her family once she left Vietnam, as it took her years to get hold of an American passport (because without it she could not have entered the US again). This feeling of hopelessness and remorse gnaws at his mother, especially after she receives bad news.

The other aspect of migration touched upon in this graphic novel is that of home. For Tien’s mother, home seems to have always been Vietnam, but after she went back, she felt as though she does not belong there anymore. So much has changed over the years (in Vietnam and she herself), that she is not all that familiar with her Vietnamese hometown anymore – which affects her. The other aspect of home – which is also dealt with in one of the fairytales – is that often times home seems to be supposed to be the place you come from, but that is a difficult concept when one has never been to ‘the place one came from’. This is often the case for second-generation immigrants who have never been to their ‘home country’ like Tien, and this has also been the case for Alera in the fairytale.

Finding oneself

And though these two aspects of migration are a big part in this story, the one that weaves through it all is Tien’s struggle to tell his parents about his sexuality – which is then again related to the struggles of migration. He does not know how to come out to his parents, as he does not know the correct words in Vietnamese, and he believes his parents will not understand him if he explains it in English. He researches at the library and talks to his friend about it, tries to find the right time to tell his parents/mother, but never succeeds. He is afraid of their reaction because of possible cultural differences, but in the end his coming-out is taken away from him. I will not go into any detail as to why and how (because of spoilers of course), but let me just say that it enraged me quite a bit.

Conclusion

All in all, I really enjoyed this graphic novel and its story. The art-style is beautiful, the use of colours and the interweaving of fairytales mesmerising, and it deals with many difficult topics in a very accessible and gentle way. To sum it up, it is a coming-of-age story filled with family, friendships, struggles, relationships, and fairytales.

Book Review: Cousins by Patricia Grace

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The novel Cousins by Patricia Grace was first published by Penguin New Zealand in 1992. It is about the lives of three cousins and how they grow up under different circumstances.

The first protagonist and the oldest cousin Mata is introduced in the first part of the book. Her tragic point of view is mostly curated from her childhood self and sometimes from her middle-aged point of view. She has a Māori mother and a Pākeha father. Mata grows up in a Girl’s Home and has a legal guardian because her father does not want her to grow up with her Māori side of the family, but also does not want to take care of her himself. She only is allowed to visit her family once, but she cannot really interact with them, because she understands neither the language nor their traditions. Mata cannot relate to her Māori side nor to the Pākeha side. She is very introverted and feels neglected because no one ever tried to get her out of this situation or tried to understand her.

“Everybody knew each other, knew how to finish each other’s sentences, knew what to do and say, belonged to each other. There was a secret to it that she knew nothing of.”

Chapter 16

The second protagonist, Makareta is introduced in the eighteenth chapter of the book. Her mother narrates this part of the story. Makareta is brought up as a ceremonial puhi, the Chosen One, and that’s the reason why she is very significant to her tribe, she is supposed to protect the tribe. Because of that she is raised differently than for example her younger cousin Missy. Makareta is privileged in that she receives extensive education, does not have to do hard work like Missy, and does not even need to brush her own hair. When Makareta is old enough she is supposed to marry someone from another tribe to connect their families. Makareta does not accept her fate, but rather decides to leave her family and become a nurse in the city she moves to.

“At school I saw my first language as something to be ashamed of, something that should be kept secret, a wrong punishable thing – even though another part of me told me that it was language, and all that want with it, that gave me to myself, made me know who I was.”

Chapter 41

The third and also the last cousin’s perspective is introduced in the thirty-first chapter.  The narrator appears to be the dead twin brother of Missy. In the second part, she speaks for herself (as does Makareta). She is the one to take the place of her cousin and becomes the Chosen One. She marries the man from the other tribe and becomes the caretaker of the land. Missy is the one who is left behind and always waits for her cousins to return.

“If you’re not the one meant your Aunty Anihera and your mother wouldn’t have done what they did. If you’re not the one meant your cousin wouldn’t have gone away. If you’re not the one meant it wouldn’t have been you standing in the house with the words coming from you without a doubt in your heart.”  

Chapter 42

I really enjoyed reading Cousins. It was my first ever reading experience reading a novel about Māori culture. Before, I didn’t know very much about it and it was really interesting. All three cousins have different beliefs and approach their culture, religion and simply life differently. This diversity has helped me understand the culture and its diaspora a lot better. I also really liked that Patricia Grace discusses aspects of activism, teaching Māori in schools, politics and the role of Māori women in her novel.

Patricia Grace’s Cousins has 264 pages and is available as a paperback (ISBN 978-0704343559) for less than 8 Euros.

Is the novel The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke by Tina Makereti really a must-read?

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Anonymous review posted on behalf of one of the students

Note: The reviewer briefly discusses the novel’s ending.

The New Zealand writer Tina Makereti published her second novel, The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke, in 2018. It is about a Māori man who tells us about his life in the mid-19th century, from his tragic experiences at a young age to his global travels. The story mostly focusses on James’ life in London, where he meets many different people from different social levels. With some he finds friendship and love, with others disgrace and discomfort. The narrative of James Pōneke is very loosely based on a true story, which Makereti stumbled across in the form of a newspaper article. The novel contains many sensitive topics such as racism, rape, extreme homophobic violence and general violence.

A negative aspect I would like to talk about is the fact that the novel does not provide a trigger warning at the beginning. It contains a lot of violence in different forms, which could be harmful for some readers. Something else that might be viewed as negative is the fact that this novel does not have a happy ending. One could say that books always need happy endings, but I think that I would not have wanted this book to end on happy terms, or even imagine it to happen. Considering the various forms of discrimination and violence that Indigenous people historically had to endure, the unsanitized depiction of James’ struggles seems appropriate and convincing.

The main character’s emotions are relatable and also convincingly conveyed in Makereti’s narrative. Due to the many plot twists that are presented in the novel you never know what to expect, which makes reading this novel a real experience and adventure. I got drawn in, smiled on James’ incredible way of thinking and defending his honour (p. 112 et sqq.). My heart warmed due to the niceness of some people around James (p. 190 ff.). I cried as he lost something important to him (p. 234 et sqq.) and I felt the pain of one-sided love (p. 185). You feel all these emotions around James, which makes it harder but also easier to read this novel all at once.

The many topics Makereti chose to adress in this novel are all very well handled and put together. She does not make James himself all about his Indigenous self or him being gay the whole story. She blends his characteristics rather than reducing his personality to just one thing, which is often the case in books that include such topics. By highlighting different characteristics that make up his personality, the author allows the reader dig deep into his persona, understand why he acts the way he does, and connect to his emotions on a different level.

If I had to give this novel a rating, I would probably go with 4 ½ out of 5 stars. I really enjoyed reading this book, even when it was hard sometimes because of the depicted violence. I deducted half a point due to the missing trigger warning because I personally believe that some people could get triggered by the events that are adressed in this novel.

The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke can be found on Amazon with the ISBN-10: 1785631527 or ISBN-13: 978-1785631528 for 11,42€ in paperback format/4,86 € in Kindle format, or you can order it in your local bookstore.

The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke

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A review of Tina Makereti’s latest novel, a book which focuses on the experiences of a Māori orphan

*Warning: contains spoilers*

The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke, written by Tina Makereti, narrates the live of Hemi/James, who showcases his experiences as an orphaned Māori boy in Aotearoa (New Zealand) and in London. His life seems to repeat itself. In the beginning of the novel, it becomes clear that he wants to find a place where he can stay and attain as much knowledge as possible. In the end, we also realize that all that Hemi wants is to find a place he can call home, and even though he did acquire the knowledge he longed for, he once again lost nearly everyone who played an important role in his life.

But my lips remained closed, and as the reciting and storytelling went on into the night I felt more and more the need to curl into the shadows. These were their stories of belonging, not mine. I properly understood this word ‘orphan’ for the first time then.

Chapter 3

Throughout the novel we witness Hemi gain friends and make acquaintances, yet he never really feels at home. He believes that he needs to distance himself and that his unrequited love for a man he meets in London is the reason he can never get too close to the latter and his partner. The only time that he does display his feelings, he sees this friendship fall apart.

But love doesn’t care for reality. Each morning he was there with me, in my arms, my desire a heat that would only leave me cold. I kept it from everyone, and it kept me from everyone.

Chapter 14

Hemi loses all his friends and also his lover Ethan (whom he meets on a ship that is later wrecked). In the end, he does not have anyone aside from the artist and his family. It was the artist who brought him to London, and his family who let him stay with them after his return to London. Hemi considers the family of the artist to be the closest people he has at this point in his life. Even though the artist brought him to London to be an exhibition piece at an art gallery about Māori culture, Hemi will always stay in his and his family’s debt.

I was a fool, I knew it to my core, and what’s more I suspected I brought ill-luck to all those who loved me. I had lost so many. The ones who remained untouched were protected by their station in life, their place in society so carefully constructed by people like them.

Chapter 19

In conclusion, I think that Tina Makereti successfully brings to life the story of a seemingly doomed orphan boy. The themes of despair and ill fate are especially prominent in the novel. It depicts not only the seemingly lost orphan boy, but also highlights all kinds of other lives that were influenced by industrialization. On an overarching level, Makereti shows how easily someone can drift away from their roots, in combination with the constant longing to truly belong somewhere.

Reference: Markereti, Tina. The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke. Hertfordshire, Lightning Books Ltd, 2019.

Book Review of Patricia Grace’s Cousins

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Cousins by New Zealand author Patricia Grace tells a story of three cousins growing up after the Second World War in New Zealand. At that time, many Maori had difficulties retaining their cultural identity as they migrated from the rural areas to the cities. The three cousins Mata, Makareka and Missy have different lives and experience very different upbringings and childhoods. What they have in common is that they are shaped by their belonging to an invaded people who struggle to preserve their own language and faith in their motherland.

As a young girl, Mata is led to believe that her mother has died, but in fact she left her family behind to start over. However, Mata’s mother soon becomes very ill and her family is unable to find Mata because she has already been handed over to the legal guardian who places her in an orphanage. Mata’s father is a Pakeha who is not there for her and abandons her. She frequently feels inferior and inadequate in the company of others. Another problem is that she is ashamed of her skin color and always feels out of place. 

Makareta is brought up by her grandmother and grows up understanding her culture and speaking Maori and also English fluently. It is no problem for her to find her way in the two environments. She becomes highly influential in activist Maori circles after rejecting a marriage arranged by her grandmother. The way I read it, this is where her success comes from.

Missy was raised by her Māori whānau and grows up in poverty, which influences her schooling and other aspects of her life. At the same time, she grows up in a strong Maori community. Her grandmother punishes Missy’s mother because she married an unsuitable man in her eyes. Because her grandmother strongly adheres to traditions and her mother rejects them, Missy and her siblings are in constant conflict. Missy has difficulties finding her way outside her community, despite the support of her family.

The book begins with Mata walking barefoot on a street at night, with no belongings except for a photo of her mother. Her story is told from the child’s point of view and in the first-person perspective of an older version of Mata. Significant parts of the narrative focus on the difficult circumstances that shape her life in the orphanage. When Mata is ten years old, she accidentally discovers her resemblance to Makareta. The orphanage reluctantly allows her to spend three weeks of holidays with her family. When she arrives, everything is very different from what Mata had expected. Keita, her grandmother, gives her a photo of her mother. Missy’s mother, Glory, shows Mata her mother’s grave and her ancestors. She doesn’t feel she belongs anywhere and this conflict runs through the book.

The book shows the lives of Mata, Makareta and Missy, three Maori cousins. The chapters are told from multiple perspectives, so that you get to know the three cousins from various angles and at different ages. Only a few memories remain of their brief interlude together. Since then they have gone separate and very different ways, but they cross paths again later in the novel.

Cousins is a thought-provoking book that reflects profound themes, such as cultural, material and emotional deprivation and its effects. On the other hand, the feeling of community and closeness with nature is constantly present, which creates beautiful emotions. The community also includes the dead and the ancestors, who also are present to support the living in the present. The book and the fates described are touching and made me emotional. For example, Mata has to deal with loss of cultural roots, loss of language and even an absence her own (Maori) name. 

Unfortunately, for the foreign reader it is hard to recognize the symbols of Maori culture which are presented. To really understand the meaning behind it, you need to have some kind of prior knowledge. Often the chapters are dragging and it becomes difficult to follow. As soon as you know the protagonists and can roughly understand what and why something is happening, it makes reading easier, but this took me a few chapters.  

I recommend this book to anyone interested in New Zealand, Maori culture and/or general identity conflicts. It seems to be a good read for young people, but also adults of any age. In summary, Cousins teaches you to understand and compare different realities and shows how small decisions can change your life.

The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke – Book Review

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“You only have one life in your possession, James. Why not make it of your most magnificent imagining?“

How do you go on when you’ve got no family member left and don’t know where you even belong? When you desperately want to change something about your life, but you don’t know what’s missing? These are only a few of the questions The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke picks up in much detail.

It was written by New Zealand novelist and creative writing teacher Tina Makereti, who has already won several prizes for her work, including the Royal Society of New Zealand Manhire Prize and the Ngā Kupu Ora Aotearoa Māori Book Award. Her books, essays and short stories often centre on Māori culture and identities.

What is the book about?

Her most recent novel, The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke, deals with the life and adventures of young James Pōneke, the son of a well-known Māori chief. In the beginning of the book, he loses first his mother and sister, then his father, and is raised by Christian missionaries. Later he abandons the mission and eventually finds a way back to his cultural roots by joining a group of Māori migrants – though still he is not at all satisfied with his life and is longing for a further education. When he meets a young English artist, he jumps at the opportunity and travels to London with him. There, James becomes the artist’s living exhibit at a museum and is offered an “English education”. He soon realises that people in Victorian London are way different from the people at home. During his adventures in the new city, he has to face multiple challenges, such as finding new friends and falling in love for the first time, dealing with multiple forms of racism, and seeking a sense of belonging.

How did I like the story?

I have to say that I enjoyed the characters very much. James is an adventurous, warm-hearted boy who wants to see the world, which is a character trait I can very much relate to. I loved the fact that he had the courage to leave his homeland behind in order to find his true self in a whole new country. But his best friend Billy really was my favourite character in this story.  He gives James the opportunity to just be himself and makes London another home for him. He sees James for who he is, without judging him in any way. Also, I liked his enthusiasm and honesty. Their friendship was so pure and sincere.

Though I enjoyed the characters, I can’t entirely say the same thing about the plot. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the way it was written and the message it conveyed: to let your fears behind and live the life you want to live. The quote I put on top of this text was by far one of my favourites and really shows that it’s up to you what kind of life you live and that it depends on the decisions you make. There were many text passages like this where I felt very inspired and just loved Makereti’s style of writing. It really made me think about my own life in a certain way. However, even though the characters were beautifully developed, I sometimes had the feeling that there’s not much happening in this story. It was interesting to experience Europe through James’s eyes but at the same time, I wished that there was a little more “drama”. Especially during the middle part of the book, I sometimes had a hard time going on reading as there wasn’t much happening. 

My conclusion

Summing up I can say that I enjoyed the writing style very much. There were so many text passages that left me wondering and thinking about my own decisions and the meaning of my life. Especially I wondered if I am living MY magnificent imagining or if there’s something I would want to change.  Also, I kept thinking about the fact whether I could have been as brave as James was in all those dangerous situations he encountered.

I generally recommend the book to anyone who is interested in Māori culture and the way of life back in 19th century. Even though the book had its lengths from time to time, I still liked reading all about James’s story and desperately wanted to know whether he’d find his place of belonging in the world. Now it’s your turn to find out! For me, The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke is a good 3,5/5 stars.

Makereti, Tina. 2018. The Imaginary Lives of James Pōneke. New Zealand: Penguin Random House (ISBN: 978-1-78563-153-5)

Book Review: “Captive Prince” Trilogy

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CONTAINS SPOILERS

‘Love Conquers All’

I am sure most people are familiar with that expression. While it may sound cheesy and a bit worn out, in my opinion it describes the plot of Australian writer C.S. Pacat’s trilogy Captive Prince perfectly, even though the story is anything but cheesy. 

The novels follow Prince Damianos (Damen) of Akelios, who is supposed to inherit the throne after his father. However, he is captured by his half-brother, who wants to seize the throne, and is then sent to the enemy country Vere as a pleasure slave. In Vere, nobody knows about Damen’s identity, but he is also unable to reveal himself since he is on enemy territory. Apart from that, his new ‘master’ Laurent, the Prince of Vere, would kill him instantly for personal reasons. So, Damen is forced to endure captivity until he gets entangled in Vere’s political situation and a fight for the Veretian throne. Over the course of the novels Damen and Laurent have to work together in order to survive and to save their countries. But things get even more problematic when they start developing feelings for each other and secrets are slowly being revealed.

Their love story has many great hurdles. They are both crown princes to their rival nations, so they are under a lot of pressure from their courts and councils. But first and foremost they are battling their own demons from the past and present. Damen, who was sold out to the enemy by his own brother has to deal with the aftermath of his slavery including torture, humiliation and sexual assault through Laurent and other Veretians. Additionally, he is thrown into a different culture, in which a different language is spoken and which has in – Damen’s eyes – unspeakable customs. Laurent’s trauma started when he was a young boy just having lost his father and his older brother Auguste. He was sexually abused and manipulated by his own uncle, the Regent, who tried to seize Laurent’s birthright: the Veretian throne. So basically their traumas reside for a great part with each other. One the one hand Laurent being the one using, humiliating and nearly killing Damen and on the other hand Damen being the one killing Auguste during the war and therefore being one of the reasons for Laurent’s assault. This is why a great part of the story deals with guilt. Damen feels guilty for falling in love with Laurent despite his enslavement but also because he believes Laurent to be unaware of his identity. Laurent, however, knew who Damen was from the beginning and therefore feels guilty for falling in love with his brother’s killer.   

I chose this trilogy because, to me, it is simply awesome. The plot is very intricate and has, in my opinion, many unseen twists. Additionally, the characters and their development are portrayed well. I also like the setting since I am a fan of kingdoms, courts, royals and their politics. Of course, I also like it because of Damen’s and Laurent’s love story, which I think is a great realization of the trope ‘enemies to lovers’. Be warned though, the story contains a lot of crude language and explicit depictions of violence (torture), slavery, trauma and (non-consensual) sex, so it is certainly not for everyone. 

But ultimately I love this story because it was not so much about two men falling in love, which many other (queer) romances focus on, but rather about two people caught up in their dark pasts, weaving through intricate deceptions and mind plays to in the end learning to forgive themselves and accept their feelings for each other.

Pacat, C.S.. Captive Prince. New York: Berkley, 2015. Print. 

Pacat, C.S.. Prince’s Gambit. New York: Berkley, 2015. Print. 

Pacat, C.S.. Kings Rising. New York: Berkley, 2016. Print. 

A lifetime of poetry – Why you should read “The Black Flamingo”

Posted on by Julia Weiser
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How can a seemingly simple story of a boy coming of age and coming to terms with his identity be transformed into a visual journey, a tale telling of its time? In Dean Atta’s The Black Flamingo (2019), this is achieved with a mix of stylistic choices: the novel features a beautiful mix of poetry, illustrations that underline the narrative, and modern means of visual communication like chat rooms. While this makes this Young Adult novel easy and quick to read, it is not a light read necessarily – the story of protagonist Michael, a queer boy with a mixed Cypriot-Jamaican heritage, is not that light and simple at all.

Michael is brought up by a single mother with little contact to his father, struggling to fully connect to either of his parents’ cultures, or the one of the country he grows up in. The reader gets to accompany him through his most formative years and memories: from a six year old boy who desperately wants a Barbie for his birthday, even though his friends find it a bit strange; a boy that is bullied at school because he doesn’t like to brawl and rather sings; a boy that tries to explore his sexuality in an environment in which nobody else seems to relate to his feelings; and finally one, who learns to have the courage and self-respect to embrace his identity, no matter what expectations others lay on him. While important topics like trauma, harassment, and drug abuse are addressed, the reader doesn’t finish the book with a heavy heart, but with a new hope and confidence – Michael has been through a lot, but in the end, he gets through all of it and finds himself to be happy. 

Atta’s novel is one of a kind for two reasons: the intersectionality that is often left out in the most famous coming of age stories in popular media, and the intermediality already addressed before. Intersectionality in this context refers to how Michael’s identity is made up of a variety of elements. He has parents with strongly differing cultural heritages, both of which do not completely fit in with Michael’s English school environment and friend group, but he is also a member of the queer community, which leaves him doubly marginalized and prone to two kinds of discrimination, making his experiences unique to his persona. 

Intermediality allows the reader to dive into Michael’s world. We experience his thoughts and feelings firsthand through the poetry he writes, beautifully illustrated in form of real pages of a notebook at times, see pictures of what he is referring to which emphasize his inner world, and can read the text messages he exchanges with peers in ways in which classic written text could not, for example by the implementation of emojis with specific cultural and generational meanings attached to them.

Most importantly though, Atta tells a story that is believable. Even if Michael is one of a kind with an arrange of specific experiences, there is always something in them that the reader can relate to in one way or another. There is nothing over-the-top fairy tale-esque or obviously forced traumatic happening – what Michael faces along his journey is as things realistically could be, and have been for some, and Atta tells them in the most authentic manner. 

Dean Atta’s The Black Flamingo is the novel we all would have wished to have had while growing up. The bitter-sweet story shows the ugly truths of growing up doubly marginalized in an artistic way, with the good and the bad, without painting a grim picture. If you plan to invest your time in a novel, invest it in this one!