Gravel Heart by Abdurazak Gurnah is hypnotic. The novel follows Salim, a citizen of Zanzibar, who moves to London in his early adulthood and begins to make sense of his family's troubled past. Gurnah, a Nobel Prize winner, writes in a calm, restrained, often beautiful voice. He meanders around, taking several pages for minor characters or subplots. Salim's college days in London felt so real--so messy and weird and awkward--that the effect was more like reading a memoir than a novel. That made Gravel Heart's final quarter that much more devastating, as the reason for the characters' impotence and dislocation seemed to be happening to real people. It was like learning something terrible about a neighbor, or old friend.
Gravel Heart is a fine postcolonial novel. Like Things Fall Apart, it is complex and murky. There's a great aside midway through the book when Salim is bewildered by the naïve certainty of student activism in his London college. Some of his roommates experienced firsthand social ills like child soldiers or apartheid. They didn't talk about it, though, because, as Salim reflects, "questions simplify what is only comprehensible though intimacy and experience. Nor are people's lives free from blame and guilt and wrong-doing, and what might be intended as simple curiosity may feel like a demand for a confession. You don't know what you might release by asking a stupid question. It was best to leave people to their silences. That was how it seemed to me but it was not how it seemed to my fellow students." I am certainly in the "fellow student" category here, and reading thoughtful novels like Gravel Heart allows me to develop, if only in a small way, a level of "intimacy and experience."