The protagonist of this book, Harrison Okupu, a boy recently brought from Ghana to a new life on a London sink estate with half his family , voices most of this novel in Pigeon English, (unlike his adopted pigeon friend who writes in educated prose, the other narrative voice).
This book has been showered with praise, much to do with the authentic voice of the narrator.
As the mother of two eleven year olds, (and even giving leeway for the child's abrupt and difficult cultural adaptation), I found this novel disturbing, deeply disturbing. Totally in your face violence, sexual activity, racism and general callousness form a constant background to Harrison's life, and it upset me that he was such a passive pawn to it all. I didn't really believe his voice either. That is not to say that the novel was not without its charms. Even taking into account his being new in the culture, there was a moral neutrality to his voice that I didn't accept.
Perhaps my reaction is what the author was seeking. I found this a troubling read. It stayed with me and worried me.
I wanted to be blown away by the writer's craft, but the protagonist's voice just sounded strange to me (But I fully accept that could be due to my lack of exposure to the source). The voice of the pigeon was, at best, irrelevant, and, at worst, profoundly pretentious and annoying.