Stories are important when we live in a world where the truth is hidden and ugly, a world where most people have so little power over anything, where fate feels like wind, powerful and inexplicable.
Underneath the narrative of three broken generations simmers the horrific damage of colonialism, both by the French and Belgian people, by racism, and lastly, and perhaps most confusingly, by fatherlessness.
A novel isn’t a painting, it’s language that’s been organized until it has the power to bombard pleasurably. The premise that ‘showing’ is somehow more respectful to a reader than ‘telling’ is illogical nonsense.
I’ve come to believe that the people in this world who do really terrible things are the ones who have no space in their minds for evil. I think one of the healthiest things a person can have is a relationship with their propensity to do wrong.