Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight: An African Childhood
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| Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight: An African Childhood | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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When the ship veered into the Cape of Good Hope, Mum caught the spicy, heady scent of Africa on the changing wind. She smelled the people: raw onions and salt, the smell of people who are not afraid to eat meat, and who smoke fish over open fires on the beach and who pound maize into meal and who work out-of-doors. She held me up to face the earthy air, so that the fingers of warmth pushed back my black curls of hair, and her pale green eyes went clear-glassy.
“Smell that,” she whispered, “that’s home.” Vanessa was running up and down the deck, unaccountably wild for a child usually so placid. Intoxicated already. I took in a faceful of African air and fell instantly into a fever. In Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight, Alexandra Fuller remembers her African childhood with visceral authenticity. Though it is a diary of an unruly life in an often inhospitable place, it is suffused with Fuller’s endearing ability to find laughter, even when there is little to celebrate. Fuller’s debut is unsentimental and unflinching but always captivating. In wry and sometimes hilarious prose, she stares down disaster and looks back with rage and love at the life of an extraordinary family in an extraordinary time. From 1972 to 1990, Alexandra Fuller–known to friends and family as Bobo–grew up on several farms in southern and central Africa. Her father joined up on the side of the white government in the Rhodesian civil war, and was often away fighting against the powerful black guerilla factions. Her mother, in turn, flung herself at their African life and its rugged farm work with the same passion and maniacal energy she brought to everything else. Though she loved her children, she was no hand-holder and had little tolerance for neediness. She nurtured her daughters in other ways: She taught them, by example, to be resilient and self-sufficient, to have strong wills and strong opinions, and to embrace life wholeheartedly, despite and because of difficult circumstances. And she instilled in Bobo, particularly, a love of reading and of storytelling that proved to be her salvation. A worthy heir to Isak Dinesen and Beryl Markham, Alexandra Fuller writes poignantly about a girl becoming a woman and a writer against a backdrop of unrest, not just in her country but in her home. But Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight is more than a survivor’s story. It is the story of one woman’s unbreakable bond with a continent and the people who inhabit it, a portrait lovingly realized and deeply felt. |
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In Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight, Alexandra Fuller remembers her African childhood with visceral authenticity. Though it is a diary of an unruly life in an often inhospitable place, it is suffused with Fuller's endearing ability to find laughter, even when there is little to celebrate. Fuller's debut is unsentimental and unflinching but always captivating. In wry and sometimes hilarious prose, she stares down disaster and looks back with rage and love at the life of an extraordinary family in an extraordinary time. From 1972 to 1990, Alexandra Fuller -- known to friends and family as Bobo -- grew up on several farms in southern and central Africa. Her father joined up on the side of the white government in the Rhodesian civil war, and was often away fighting against the powerful black guerilla factions. Her mother, in turn, flung herself at their African life and its rugged farm work with the same passion and maniacal energy she brought to everything else. Though she loved her children, she was no hand-holder and had little tolerance for neediness. She nurtured her daughters in other ways: She taught them, by example, to be resilient and self-sufficient, to have strong wills and strong opinions, and to embrace life wholeheartedly, despite and because of difficult circumstances. And she instilled in Bobo, particularly, a love of reading and of storytelling that proved to be her salvation. A worthy heir to Isak Dinesen and Beryl Markham, Alexandra Fuller writes poignantly about a girl becoming a woman and a writer against a backdrop of unrest, not just in her country but in her home. But Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight is more than a survivor's story. It is the story of one woman's unbreakable bond with a continent and the people who inhabit it, a portrait lovingly realized and deeply felt. "This searing memoir of a white family clinging to lives in Africa as Rhodesia became Zimbabwe lays out, without moralizing or sentimentality, the way in which turmoil and injustice in society distort the lives of families and individuals." "Nobody has ever written a book about growing up white in rural Africa the way Alexandra Fuller has. Her voice is mordant, her ear uncanny. Her unsentimentality is a pleasant shock. Her sense of humor is extremely sly. Without a trace of pretension, she quietly performs what is really a major literary feat-nailing both the poetry and the myopia of a child's experience in a brawling, bad-luck family on the losing side of an anti-colonial war." |
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| 03-31-08 | 5 | (NA) |
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I found this in audio at an audio rental store. The front intrigued me so I read the back and decided to give it a go. I liked it so much that my husband decided he wanted to listen to it too! What an interesting life to have lead at such a young age!
(Review Data Last Updated: 2008-05-10 07:04:41 EST)
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| 03-03-08 | 4 | (NA) |
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This family is composed mainly of fighters, people who decided to forsake the clotted cream comfort of their native England for the thorny bush country of, what was then known as, Rhodesia.
In poetic prose that the reader occasionally stumbles over, Fuller takes us on a dense tour of her life in Africa, thesaurus in hand, and describes the stunning beauty and hopeless squalor of the land with a series of adjectives and adverbs that occasionally seem shoehorned in but rarely off-the-mark. This makes for an occasionally jarring, though still beautiful, journey, much like what the young author must have experienced perched on the spare tire of her family's bucking Land Rover. Some of Fuller's descriptive metaphors, however, are quite luminous; they stay with you. Still, she hits home with her prose more often than not, and produces a thoroughly readable if somewhat detached report on the life of her family, and how they bear up as trauma eclipses joy after a series of dismal events, including the deaths of small children and runs for the border of several African nations as things (i.e., the political landscape, war) shift and change. These things would loom large in anyone's life, and they are told here with an air of inevitability and acceptance . . . even excitement. Here's a family who thrives on adventure. There were several times Fuller had me right there in the back of the Land Rover with her. I was unsettled and awed by what we saw together. She's an amazing writer when she gets going. Great read. (Review Data Last Updated: 2008-04-03 16:31:29 EST)
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| 02-29-08 | 1 | (NA) |
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I just couldn't get into this book--even though I thought I would have been able too. I just moved on to another memoir........
(Review Data Last Updated: 2008-03-04 03:39:21 EST)
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| 02-02-08 | 1 | 0\3 |
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Okay, now as a former and recovering English major I'm going to admit that Ms. Fuller is actually a decent writer, But I do want to point out a few things the other reviews don't cover.
First, Ms. Fuller is stridently politically correct and distorts the historical facts of the former Rhodesia in an effort to demonize the whites. The distortion does border on reverse racism, however much I hate to trot out the r-word. Secondly, this woman is absolutely obsessed with toilet functions and other bodily things and takes any opportunity to describe them--particularly her own. She takes an almost narciscisstic delight in describing herself in these terms. (Review Data Last Updated: 2008-03-02 07:51:50 EST)
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