Its title recalls Bret Easton Ellis’s infamous book, but while Ellis’s narrator was a blank slate, African Psycho’s protagonist is a quivering mass of lies, neuroses, and relentless internal chatter. Gregoire Nakobomayo, a petty criminal, has decided to kill his girlfriend Germaine. He’s planned the crime for some time, but still, the act of murder requires a bit of psychological and logistical preparation. Luckily, he has a mentor to call on, the far more accomplished serial killer Angoualima. The fact that Angoualima is dead doesn’t prevent Gregoire from holding lengthy conversations with him. Little by little, Gregoire interweaves Angoualima’s life and criminal exploits with his own. Continuing with the plan despite a string of botched attempts, Gregoire’s final shot at offing Germaine leads to an abrupt unraveling. Lauded in France for its fresh and witty style, African Psycho’s inventive use of language surprises and relieves the reader by injecting humor into this disturbing subject.
Alain Mabanckou was born in 1966 in Congo-Brazzaville (French Congo). He currently resides in Los Angeles, where he teaches literature at UCLA, having previously spent four years at the University of Michigan. Mabanckou will be a Fellow in the Humanities Council at Princeton University in 2007-2008. One of Francophone Africa's most prolific contemporary writers, he is the author of six volumes of poetry and six novels. He received the Sub-Saharan Africa Literary Prize in 1999 for his first novel, Blue-White-Red, the Prize of the Five Francophone Continents for Broken Glass, and the Prix Renaudot in 2006 for Memoirs of a Porcupine. He was selected by the French publishing trade journal Lire as one of the fifty writers to watch out for in the coming century. His most recent book is African Psycho.
I like oddball novels but I couldn’t like this one that much. The point was more or less lost on me unless it was just another exploration of misogyny like every other novel or movie or documentary is these days. So of course our wannabe serial killer says stuff like
I raised my voice to set things straight and keep a female lacking in IQ from becoming arrogant.
Reviewers compare this novel to Celine (yeah, I can see that), Houellebecq (mmm, sort of), Genet (aww well I read The Thief’s Journal so long ago I don’t know), Dostoyevsky – specifically C&P (you’re kidding right?), Camus (because he wrote about a murderer? Hmmm), Beckett (oh well for like one paragraph) and Salinger (er…no). Meanwhile this novel’s title forces us to compare it with the incomparably unpleasant American Psycho (which was written 2 years before this one) and there is no comparison whatsoever. The nasty musings on what our antihero Greg wants to do to his girlfriend hooker Germaine take up about two pages, and you also get occasional outbursts like
If I could kill all the women on Earth, I would begin with my mother…I would pull out her heart of stone, cook it in my shop’s furnace and eat it with sweet potatoes, licking my fingers, the rest of her body rotting away in front of me…
Next to Patrick Bateman’s actual-or-are-they-fantasized-who-really-cares murders this is a kindergarten outing with little kittens and woolly lambkins. The title of this book is therefore very cheeky.
Young Greg is a self-employed motor mechanic with an obsession about Angoualima, who is the country’s most famous serial killer. Maybe half of the novel is taken up by his dubious accounts of this guy’s exploits, visiting this guy’s grave, worshipping him, having imaginary conversation with him, and it gets really tedious :
People also imagined …that he lived in freight trains because, in order to fool the police, he was able to turn himself into a package or blend into a herd of sheep
And there’s a WHOLE lot of “O master what must I now do?” stuff.
The author has one great idea which as far as I know might be lifted straight out of Congolese life – his places have insane names. So the district Greg lives in is called He-Who-Drinks-Water-Is-An-Idiot. And there is a local bar called Take And Drink, This is the Cup of My Blood. And a street called Daddy-Happiness-That’s-Me street. I liked that a lot until all of these funny names were repeated for the 150th time.
This book was very disturbing. Think Pinky and the Brain but instead of an obsessive desire to take over the world, Gregoire (and his rectangular shaped head) is consumed with the desire to rape and murder. Specifically to be able to rise to the same infamy and esteem as his mentor, and idol, the incredibly vicious and very dead Angoualima. Gregoire hasn't had the best childhood and some of his experiences have made him quite an angry man as well as a misogynist. While this book is very disturbing it's also hilarious. Poor Gregorie is so far up his own arse and Angoualima's that as he stalks the streets of He-Who-Drinks-Water-Is-an-Idiot, he can't seem to successfully execute a murder.
This was my first time reading Mabanckou and I was very impressed. His writing style is brilliant and I'd love to read more from him.
Be warned this book has very graphic descriptions of rape, murder and assault, but if you can stomach all that, you'll find quite a compelling story about a rather hopeless serial killer in the making.
Overall I did like this book, but I also expected a lot more from it. I think in naming it after Ellis's American Psycho and having it compared to Beckett, Dostoevsky, Camus and even Salinger (who are basically all my favourite authors) meant Mabanckou's book was under a lot of pressure from me to be just as amazing.
It follows Gregoire Nakobomayo who, under the influence of a dead killer by the name of Angoualima, decides he wants to become, too, a famous killer. Like a lot of other reviewers have said, the internal monologue reminded me more of Dostoevsky and Camus's prose than Ellis's, as this novel I found was more about his internal psychosis and his growing urge to perform a horrific act that he can't physically manifest. Rather than it being a comment on society, African Psycho turns inwards to it's protagonist's head to the point where even Greg can't see past his own swelling anxiety and gradual disintegration.
It is fascinating from a psychological and existential point of view which is why it has more in common with classic existential authors - the prose was extremely reminiscent of the prose in Crime and Punishment a lot of the time. The writing really means it secures it's place with-in a canon of murderous narrator fiction such as Patrick Suskind's Perfume: The Story of a Murderer which this also reminded me of. But at the same time it was a coming-of-age story, albeit one that goes horribly wrong, but still shows Greg's adolescent struggles. These themes put together make African Psycho an extremely unique but outstanding book.
On rereading or perhaps after writing an academic article on this book I believe I'll give it a higher rating, but for the time being I was slightly let down on my first read just because of it's monumental comparisons to the majority of my favourite authors. I would definitely recommend it though as I know I'm going to return to this book at some point, as it is extremely entertaining (in a dark humour sort of way) and cleverly written.
“They claim to be analysing crimes, but have they committed even one? What kind of nonsense is that?”
I don’t know what I just read, and I don’t know if I enjoyed it or not. I can’t tell whether it was genius or utterly ridiculous, but I’ve read worse and I couldn’t stop myself from carrying on. Take from that what you will.
The writing style of this was really simple yet compelling, and I absolutely love nothing more than an unreliable, slightly insane narrator – it makes for a very intriguing story. There’s a lot going on in this book (I’d advise searching trigger warnings beforehand) and it really is quite shocking being inside this characters mind. It was utterly grotesque and deeply disturbing.
I don’t know if I fully understood the book, I think it’s a story to be reflected upon and looked more deeply into. Reading it for leisure was a fun experience, but simultaneously quite disorienting and confusing.
My main criticisms were that there were paragraphs upon paragraphs of him talking about another serial killer, which I didn’t really care about I’d rather him stick to talking about himself. Secondly, there was so much build-up right from the beginning to an event that just fell flat. The ending was so anticlimactic and ended so abruptly I was left dissatisfied.
Overall, a bizarre character study and a very messed up protagonist. Read with caution.
Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐ ~ • fiction, crime • dark, reflective, fast-paced ~ TW: murder, violence, sexual violence, blood, gore, sexism ~ Se spune despre Alain Mabanckou că este una dintre cele mai de succes voci ale literaturii africane contemporane.
Romanul ni-l prezintă pe acest individ, Gregoiré Nakobomayo, un tip simplu care repară mașini dar care are ca idol un celebru criminal în serie. Fascinația lui pentru criminal face ca el însuși să devină un antierou în poveste atunci când începe să-și dorească și el să devină un ucigaș perfect asemeni "maestrului" său.
Pe tot parcursul cărții suntem în mintea lui și vedem tot ce simte și gândește despre oamenii care-l înconjoară. Vedem câte scenarii își face în cap și cum plănuiește în detaliu să-și ucidă iubita. În mintea personajului, descoperim un univers construit din traume, prejudecăți, obsesii și delir macabru, toate cu un efect comic, de vreme ce Gregoiré supraanalizează totul până la manie.
A fost o experiență interesantă cartea asta dar nu neapărat satisfăcătoare în vreun fel. Mi-ar fi plăcut să văd mai mult ce face Greg nu doar ce gândește el și ce fac alții. Chiar și finalul a fost cam nesatisfăcător pentru mine și am simțit puțin de parcă aș fi citit degeaba cartea fiindcă la final de zi personajului nu-i reușește nimic cu adevărat și e doar un băiețel cu vise. Vise macabre desigur dar care nu se împlinesc niciodată.
Vă recomand cartea doar dacă aveți chef de un roman reflectiv. Dacă căutați acțiune din păcate nu prea avem aici. Chiar și așa, este interesant de citit o voce africană contemporană și doar pentru asta recomand cartea cu adevărat.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This is a wannabe killer, a guy who truly hates women but is so incapable of being a true psycho that he comes off as pitiable. He sounds like a very enthusiastic Andrew Tate fan who wants to become as great as his role model (a serial killer who died in mysterious circumstances and whose grave he visits frequently), but everything seems set against him. Due to his own incompetence as well as his inability to make sense of the world around him, Gregoire Nakoboyamo is a symbol of the type of farce that a certain framing of masculinity that is currently very popular in the manosfere truly is.
Alain Mabanckou’s African Psycho is supposed to be a comic deconstruction of the crime novel, but I did not find anything particularly funny. It was all very disquieting. The delusions narrated by Gregoire and his insistence that he should somehow prove his masculinity by eliciting violence against women sound too close to home to be taken as a source of comic. So what we have here is a discussion on toxic masculinity, postcolonial identities and deeper systemic imbalances that create a perfect environment for Gregoire’s self-absorbed, highly misogynistic view of the world.
If you are expecting a traditional thriller, you will be disappointed. This book mostly uses the setting of a thriller for a deep character study into the world of a man that truly wants to be evil but cannot achieve his goal because in reality he is just a pathetic man living a pathetic life who can’t appreciate anything good.
For Christmas, why not a man who can murder as an act of vanity? As self-expression! The narrator of AFRICAN PSYCHO claims to share that pathology: “to kill at last, crush …, I was going to be somebody.” Such a lunatic yearning is familiar in fiction, a trick that goes back at least to Dostoevsky. The drama’s in the waffling: will he or won’t he? But Mabanckou (a Congolese who's won prizes in France), discovers a fascinating new way to hang you up on those tenterhooks. His novel presents no gloomy Raskolnikov, nor the fixed sneer of Patrick Bateman, but a haunted burlesque. The narrator Gregoire may wish he were scary, but he proves good company. Raised in the streets of an African metropolis, he achieved most of his education via a mashup of comic books & a French version of Great Books. The result is a voluble palooka, likeable, whose strongest trait would be either his horniness or his loyalty to his shanty neighborhood. The place's name is one of the cleverest of the book's frequent onomastics: He-Who-Drinks-Water-Is-An-Idiot. But lately Gregoire’s thinking has turned from the comic to the noir. He dwells on murder & on one murderer in particular, the legendary Angoualima. The dilemma is whether the narrator can achieve some balance between his mythic yearnings & his slacker mundane. Gregoire talks a violent game, yet he can’t stop asking: “where are we going?” His Scarface delusions are belied by the comfortable home he’s made with his intended victim, the prostitute Germaine. Still, still -- on those few occasions when PSYCHO depicts actual violence, it generates a chilling verisimilitude, as powerful for its hesitations as for its blows & cries. Mabanckou’s sprightly negotiations of extremes & opposites demonstrates anew how the novel form is nothing if not flexible— a significant demonstration given the book’s provenance. The author breaks with the norm for recent novels out of Africa. Celebrated cases like BEASTS OF NO NATION or ANCESTOR STONES have been documentary at bottom; what matters most is getting the pain right. But this splendid freak show reminds us that no novelistic record of sensibility (especially an entire continent’s sensibility) can be complete without its Dionysiac yawp.
no, no, così non va. non ricordo più dove l'ho letto, ma si faceva cenno a riferimenti culturali molto alti (dostoyevsky, camus e non so chi altri) ma, non basta aver citato Lo straniero di Camus nel testo perché sia corretto il riferimento! Si faceva cenno anche a American Psycho di Ellis che però non ho letto, quindi non posso giudicare. Questo è quanto -non- ho trovato, quello che ci ho visto io, invece, verso l'inizio, un rifarsi a Mohamed Choukri e al suo stupendo Pane Nudo, ma soprattutto, pervaso in tutto il libro (lo stile, la tematica) è il grande Alì il Magnifico di Paul Smaïl (pseudonimo del geniale Jack-Alain Léger) ma senza raggiungere lo stesso spessore e un pizzico di Boris Vian per il suo "Sputerò sulle vostre tombe".
La storia di Grégoire però sembra un tentativo mal riuscito. Qui siamo pieni di ripetizioni e di vuoti narrativi che probabilmente servono a creare un po' di "attesa" e così aumentare il climax verso il finale "a sorpresa", ma ottengono solo il risultato di annoiare e di infastidire durante la lettura.
Alain, hai scritto di meglio, il tuo "porcospino" mi era piaciuto davvero molto, proverò a leggere altro di tuo per perdonarti il peccato di African Psycho o per archiviarti definitivamente.
It seems that if you have a litany of academic qualifications, you can be as misogynistic as you like in your fantastical portrayals of femicide and the world won’t bat an eyelid, because they assume your content is a social commentary, or some such enabling guff. African Psycho didn’t feed my soul. I read the entire text with a slight grimace, and a knot in my stomach that I expected to unravel with the gratuitous detail of the protagonist’s next planned murder. This book is best avoided by those who don’t want to dream of women being butchered in medieval fashion.
Si fa leggere, anche rapidamente date le non molte pagine, e lascia qualche sorriso qua e là (divertenti i dialoghi del maldestro protagonista con il fantasma del suo idolo pluriomicida e serial-killer di cui vorrebbe emulare le gesta e la fama, e che si materializza sulla tomba ogni volta che va a rendergli omaggio e venerazione), ma ben poco di più per farsi ricordare.
I actually enjoyed this book! I know it might seem weird to hear this but it actually kept me reading. Yes it has some disturbing descriptions but I didn’t expected anything less given the title! I was not surprised of the ending, I’ve kind seen that happening but I enjoyed it! Only thing would be that I did not understand why the long weird names of streets a lot of repeated ideas ..
Een toffe premisse en schitterend geschreven met, voor een boekje van ongeveer 150 pagina's, best veel slimme en komische passages. Helaas is ook dit weer een 'experiment' van een schrijver die zich wil 'inleven' in extreme misogynie.
Cartea pornește cu o premisă interesantă și un personaj care te intrigă, dar pe parcurs se pierde în repetiții și fantezii fără direcție. Stilul e original, ironic, uneori chiar amuzant, însă finalul m-a lăsat complet dezamăgită. Am simțit că tot ce s-a construit până acolo nu a dus nicăieri. O lectură care m-a făcut mai curioasă la început decât satisfăcută la final.
This started off great but then it somehow turned into this slog that never truly turned into this really great thing it could have been. Also, there is some stuff I am sure I didn't really get.
Would it have worked better as a short story? I mean this piece is short, my edition is not even 150 pages, not sure how this could have been too long but after we get introduced to this fascinating, unhinged voice the story mostly doesn't go anywhere. It was disturbing but also intriguing to be stuck in Grégoire's head, a man who wants to be just like his big idol, the serial killer Angoualima, he wants to make a name for himself through killings, change society through the acts of murder (as in cleaning up society, critiquing it, subduing it). He is so obsessed with the thought yet in the end he fumbles all his attempts at murder and gets beaten to the act by an unexpected competitor.
I liked the passages where Greg goes to the cemetery and sees apparitions of his hero Angoualima because these conversations leave it up to you if this is happening or a figment of his disturbed mind (and both give an interesting hook for interpretation), I liked the obviously satirical outcome of this wannabe serial killer. Overall some of his statements are just really good, as for example when he complains that the people who teach criminology are not qualified because they are not criminals and therefor don't know a thing. But I had to force myself to pick this up, Grégoire rambles a lot, runs in circles with his thoughts, him putting off killing over and over again to get it just right made me want to scream at him to finally do it so we all can be done with this! Such a tiny book yet it turns into this tough piece of chewing gum that stretches itself so far beyond the breaking point that the final blow reads underwhelming. I don't know, the echoes of Bret Easton Ellis and Camus, even Dostoevsky, were there, stirred around with a big touch of Mabanckou's own seasoning but in the end it didn't fully deliver to me. Greg always felt like an outsider, as an orphan in the foster system he seems to be left behind by society and thinks that being a serial killer will finally give him status. Yet here it ties in with my feeling that I missed some commentary about this novel.
You see, Mabanckou mentions "the country over there". I thought we might be talking about Congo-Brazzaville vs The Democratic Republic of Congo but I honestly know too little about each place to know if that is true and what the jabs in here are in reference to. The satirical tone and wit makes it obvious to me that Mabanckou has a ton to say about the place this story takes place, clearly there is metaphorical criticism but of what I was never sure. Sensationalist journalism? Wealth gaps? Other countries unnecessarily interfering with business in Congo? Neglect (as in how Greg feels left behind by the system)? Maybe more? I think there is a bit of all of this but my lack of knowledge of the place hinders me from getting what Mabanckou is ultimately driving at. If the plot had been more engaging to me maybe I wouldn't mind so much missing these points but now I am left with fairly little. An interesting narrator that I am not sure I fully understand when the story wraps up.
African Psycho concerns a would-be serial killer, Gregoire Nakobomayo, and the spiritual relationship he has developed with his phantom mentor, a far more accomplished serial killer, Angoualima.
The title recalls Bret Easton Ellis' infamous book but while Ellis' narrator was blank, and the book eschewed any kind of psychological exposition, accepting pure psychosis as the bottomline, Mabanckou's protagonist is all psychology and relentless internal chatter and prevarication. The act of deciding to kill, immediately exposed in the novel's first line, "I have decided to kill Germaine on December 29,� puts the psychological front and center. Whatever one may say about it, killing someone requires both psychological and logistical preparedness. This aspect is iterated within the first few paragraphs, when Gregoire introduces his deceased idol, Angoualima, the phantom to whom he continually speaks about his criminal intentions. Little by little, Gregoire interweaves Angoualima's life and criminal exploits with his own. Despite his string of previously botched criminal attempts, Gregoire's final decision and failure to kill Germaine, his live-in girlfriend and a professional prostitute, leads to an abrupt unraveling.
Although the gruesome descriptions that characterize crime fiction are many, it is Mabanckou's inventive use of language that surprises and relieves the reader by injecting humor into this disturbing subject. What had been thinly veiled geographical references to the Congo region in his past fiction have taken on comedic twists in the present narrative. Two such examples of Mabanckou's playful onomastics are the name of Gregoire's shantytown, "Celui-qui-boit-de-l'eau-est-un-idot," [He-Who-Drinks-the-Water-Is-An-Idiot] and the local road in the red-light district, "Rue-Cent-francs-seulement" [Ten-Francs-Only Road]. Such attention to the comedic appears throughout the narrative as well. This occurs, in one instance, during the report of an eyewitness to Angoualima's crime in which the reporter poses a comedic repetition of enthusiastic "Et alors?" that are followed by the witness' exclamatory repetitions, "Croyez-moi!" The narrator adds to the reader'�s amusement by recounting that journalism students throughout the country "dissect" this interview for its use of the technique that has been referred to as "Et alors? Croyez-moi!"
In sum, African Psycho most surprisingly engages readers through style, not gore, a remarkable feat for a narrative that takes murder as its subject and that references probably the most gruesome novel in recent American literature. Moreover, it does so with intimacy rater than the standoff-ish dispassion that characterizes novels that seek to contend with the volence engendered by the amorality and ennui of contemporary society.
Lauded in France for its fresh and witty style, African Psycho is a testament to this novelist's exceptional ability to carry over to prose a poet's talent for the crafting of words.
A rant, monologue, and in the novel’s own words “blah, blah, blah” by a wanna-be serial killer who never kills. Set in the Ghanaian slum of “He-Who-Drinks-Water-Is-An-Idiot”, the narrator Gregroire tells us in great detail about his admiration for serial killer Angoualima, who in fact does kill, rapes and does strange things with cigars. Gregroire wants to emulate Angoualima’s bad deeds, get known by his countrymen and trump the police and media. The author may have an agenda here and I don’t know what it is – a metaphor for the Big Boss politicians/autocrats of Africa who steal from state coffers to line their pockets and Swiss bank accounts? Or perhaps it’s the stupidity and simplicity of the media who are just looking to sensationalize stories and keep people from seeing the day-to-day trials and tribulations of the poor? Or it could be the “rape and murder” of Africa by white colonizers (who continue to “colonize”, albeit not via subjugation, but via political and economic coercion). Or perhaps it's just a rant about a wanna-be serial killer.
Whatever it is, it didn’t work for me. I found the writing to be long-winded, repetitive and boring. The shock value was lost on me – quite possibly due to all the media schlock that’s already out there. Even one episode of CSI, Law & Order SVU, or even a rated PG-13 movie would "out shock" this book - but I guess that's more of a rant about our society than fictional African serial killers.
Il protagonista, Gregoire, cerca di sfuggire alle difficili condizioni di vita del suo quartiere attraverso il crimine; Il suo obiettivo è di eguagliare le gesta di un famoso criminale che ha tenuto in scacco la polizia dell'intera regione. La narrazione è prima persona con la tecnica del flusso di coscienza. Il racconto dei crimini, o meglio dei piani per realizzarlo, diventa l'occasione per parlare della morte, della violenza della polizia, della demagogia dei politici e, soprattutto, dell'inettitudine dei mezzi di comunicazione.
A slim novel with a rather unique narrator--angry, frustrated, misogynistic, and delusional. Our dear Gregoire aspires to commit murder like his idol, a serial killer named Angoualima. This is as much about the struggle of conscience as it is the frustration of the individual in relation to society.
- Yes, I love vulgarity. I claim it loud and clear. I love it because only it says what we are, without hideous masks we wear by nature, which turns us into mean beings, hypocrites, ceaselessly running after decency, a quality I couln't care less about.
- Do I have to stress that I have no flowery memories from my youth other than those of the soccer games with rag-balls?
I'm not sure what to think about this book. It was kind of crazy and had so much build up throughout, but I'm not sure it had the final climax or pay off that I was hoping for. Interesting enough to keep me engaged and wanting to try some more of Mabanckou's writing, but nothing I'll be shouting about.
Una strana lettura, dove l'eroe è il cattivo di turno ed i suoi emuli. Il nostro protagonista vorrebbe tanto entrare nel pantheon degli assassini, ma non ne ha la stoffa. Mabanckou spinge sull'abitudine che abbiamo di idolizzare chi va contro le regole della società e prende in giro il criminale fallito, il wannabe della cronaca nera. Forse la sto facendo più profonda di quanto non sia, ma a volte il romanzo mi ha fatto pensare al fenomeno degli influencer. La ricerca del posto giusto e dell'arma giusta per compiere l'omicidio, non per comodità ma per estetica (cosa penseranno di me se userò una cosa banale come un coltello?) ricordano vagamente la necessità di trovare lo sfondo giusto per la perfetta foto su Instagram. La vita ha già punito abbastanza Gregoire dandogli un testone rettangolare e facendolo vivere nell'anonimato di un quartiere tuttavia si affaccia su una zona migliore della città. L'invidia che prova è universale, persino le prostitute del paese vicino sono un prato più verde di quello in cui si muove lui. Fulcro del romanzo è quindi riuscire ad emergere, a differenziarsi, a diventare qualcuno.
Breve commento sui nomi propri: vorrei tanto sapere perchè i vari bar e quartieri e negozi si chiamano così! A parte la storia della Senna locale, la toponomastica è tanto narrativa quanto inspiegata.
Jeg vet ikke jeg... To kortromaner om massemordere in spe som ikke får'e te blir litt vel mye. Denne, som spiller på American Psycho av Bret Easton Ellis, er veldig morsomt skrevet, fantasifull og på grensen til afrikansk magisk realisme, men den tipper ikke over grensen.
Jeg humrer og ler av beskrivelsene av planene sine, som jeg-personen maler ut. Han dyrker minnet til en lokal massemorder, prøver å leve opp til ham, og har tenkt på begynne med samboeren sin mens han forteller om sin utvikling som bad guy i en av Den demokratiske republikken Kongos byer, denne gangen uten navn. Han klarer nesten å leve opp til sitt idol, men bare nesten. Og til slutt går det ... som det går. Jeg sier ikke mer.
Litt for sær til at jeg kan anbefale den, men er du interessert i afrikansk litteratur, eller bisarre fortellinger, så kan det hende du kan prøve. Det er i alle fall en helt spesiell leseropplevelse. Jeg leste den bare litt for tett opp til "Chicago Loop" av Paul Theroux, også en fortelling om en gæren wanna be massemorder.
This is not a pleasant book to read. It will make you wince, and it will make you retch. This little book may be one of my hidden gems and I picked it up purely for the title and found so much more.
The story of a man trying to emulate his favourite serial killer Angoualima, this is a man so filled with hatred of women, it has terrifying echoes of modern day incels...but also how the very worst circumstances a man can endure in childhood can mould him. It also needs to be recognised what an excellent translation this is.
This is a book you will love or despise. You need a very dark sense of humour, and it's a book I'll be cautious to recommend, but it deserves far more recognition than it has.
I think this book could have been much more. I read it in a day, a very easy read and honestly not that disturbing (am I watching too much true crime?:)).
It could have been an exploration of society, of mental illness, of internal conflict, of misogyny, of what family means or not, of ideology and status. What does it mean to be a failure of a killer? How does all of this play out in Africa as opposes to America (especially since you are brave enough to borrow the title)? But I didn't find it "local" enough. It could have been happening anywhere and at any time in history. The main character is just... unlikable. Not nuanced, not understandable, just a wanna-be killer. It was just not enough for me.
I gave it two stars as opposed to one because the writing style is a bit funny and interesting in some parts. I didn't get anything else out of this book.