Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight

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It would be very sad if fear of offence made it impossible to describe the past honestly, though the list of terms by which white Rhodesians referred to black ones might be unnecessary.

Since October, Mum has been using a hypodermic needle to inject the Christmas cake (bought months ago in the U. When, in 1980, the Rhodesian Bush War ends, Fuller and her family move from there to Malawi, then to Zambia, taking over various farms, always barely scraping by, navigating snakes, gunshots, societal shifts and family tragedies. Fuller resists the temptation to explain things to the reader, to presume insight she could not have possessed at any given age, of vilifying her parents or glorifying her plucky younger self. I feel it is a very true book and also gives a view of the history around the time of the end of UDI and Mugabe coming into power.Weekend holidays on the shores of Lake Malawi running wild with expats-like-us while burning to a crisp. NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER - A worthy heir to Isak Dinesen and Beryl Markham, Alexandra Fuller shares visceral memories of her childhood in Africa, and of her headstrong, unforgettable mother. As she described each stage of her upbringing, I found myself thinking about what I had been doing at that same age and marveling that the two of us could possibly have occupied the same world at the same time. The book also touches upon politics and racism in South and Central Africa and the relationship of blacks and white during wartime.

I know that a lot of people find great enjoyment from repeat readings, discovering new layers to the story and gaining a better understanding of the book. The other reason I really enjoyed this book was the sometimes startlingly candid and dispassionate voice of the narration. How did her parents meet and what ties did either of them have to Africa before deciding to raise their kids there? It has been criticised by some for not being apologist for the often racist attitudes of Bobo's parents and those of other whites who drift in and out of the account. Bobo and her sister are warned not to come into their parents' bedroom in the night because they sleep with loaded guns.

She unflinchingly describes her life and does not apologize for it nor cheapen it by gaudily harping on lessons she has learned. Suffice to say, the scenes she depicts, in their richness and in their built, held and finally released tensions, read as well as the most achingly perfect short stories.