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cowgirlikeme's review against another edition
adventurous
funny
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.0
maxpal's review against another edition
challenging
informative
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
Content Warnings
Graphic: Drug abuse and Drug use
Minor: Homophobia, Physical abuse, Racism, Xenophobia, and Religious bigotry
carolabola's review against another edition
2.0
Tengo sentimientos contradictorios sobre este libro. Y es que me desesperó precisamente porque está bien escrito. Kureishi crea a un personaje odiosamente confundido. Si me desquició, es porque lo describe a la perfección.
emmc's review against another edition
funny
lighthearted
reflective
tense
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
sourmilkpages's review against another edition
2.0
2.5/5 — The Black Album is an okay novel, but very of it’s time. Very much part of that mid-90s Trainspottingesque lifestyle. Whilst it was interesting that Kureishi matched that with Islamic Fundamentalism, I do think that, particularly since the turn of the millennium and post-9/11, there are many more contemporary novels that deal with Religious Fundamentalism in a much more nuanced fashion and in a less male-heavy hedonistic fashion.
smcleish's review against another edition
3.0
Originally published on my blog here in October 1998.
Like Kureishi's earlier novel, [b:The Buddha of Suburbia|302998|The Buddha of Suburbia|Hanif Kureishi|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1255677345s/302998.jpg|1452188], The Black Album deals with the issues surrounding growing up in London as a young man of Asian background. It is set just over a decade later, in the summer of 1989. It is a darker novel; the setting is rather more sordid (student digs in Kilburn rather than a rich house in West London), and the forces of racism against Sahid are now matched by the growing strength of Islamic fundamentalism, in the year that the fatwah was declared against Salman Rushdie.
The clash between Islam and Western liberal culture is one of the main themes of the novel. As a student, Sahid is being taught the value of the intellect, that censorship is a crime, and the vague Marxism common among British intellectuals. At the college, there is a group of Islamic fundamentalists; to begin with, Sahid values being part of their group, as it is putting him in touch with the religion and culture of his forbears (though, as his sister-in-law reminds him, the upper classes in Pakistan viewed Islam mainly as a way to keep the lower classes under control). The third force in his life is the drug culture which came out of the raves that made 1988 known as a second 'summer of love'.
The forces confusing Sahid are symbolised and concentrated in the three most important people in his life: his tutor and lover Deidre (Deedee) Osgood; Riaz, the guru of the Islamic group' and Chili, his brother. His conflicting loyalties come to a head over a demonstration by the students at which the Satanic Verses is to be burned; this arouses Sahid's unhappiness with some of the ideas of Riaz's group, as a book lover and an admirer of Rushdie's earlier [b:Midnight's Children|14836|Midnight's Children|Salman Rushdie|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1166661748s/14836.jpg|1024288]. The tensions this creates lead to the group discovering his relationship with Deedee and the drug taking, neither considered to be actions appropriate for a committed fundamentalist Muslim.
It is clear that Kureishi has little sympathy for the fundamentalists; this antipathy of a provocative author of fiction towards anyone who advocates book-burning is understandable. It is quite easy to provoke contempt for them in his readers - a scene where one of the other members of the group asks Sahid to tell him what value a book has, and responses to the reply that they make you think by questioning the value of thinking is one example. The novel generally is a convincing portrayal of the rootlessness probably felt by many British Asians.
The title comes from an album by Prince, itself a response to the Beatles' White Album, proclaiming his own racial identity.
Like Kureishi's earlier novel, [b:The Buddha of Suburbia|302998|The Buddha of Suburbia|Hanif Kureishi|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1255677345s/302998.jpg|1452188], The Black Album deals with the issues surrounding growing up in London as a young man of Asian background. It is set just over a decade later, in the summer of 1989. It is a darker novel; the setting is rather more sordid (student digs in Kilburn rather than a rich house in West London), and the forces of racism against Sahid are now matched by the growing strength of Islamic fundamentalism, in the year that the fatwah was declared against Salman Rushdie.
The clash between Islam and Western liberal culture is one of the main themes of the novel. As a student, Sahid is being taught the value of the intellect, that censorship is a crime, and the vague Marxism common among British intellectuals. At the college, there is a group of Islamic fundamentalists; to begin with, Sahid values being part of their group, as it is putting him in touch with the religion and culture of his forbears (though, as his sister-in-law reminds him, the upper classes in Pakistan viewed Islam mainly as a way to keep the lower classes under control). The third force in his life is the drug culture which came out of the raves that made 1988 known as a second 'summer of love'.
The forces confusing Sahid are symbolised and concentrated in the three most important people in his life: his tutor and lover Deidre (Deedee) Osgood; Riaz, the guru of the Islamic group' and Chili, his brother. His conflicting loyalties come to a head over a demonstration by the students at which the Satanic Verses is to be burned; this arouses Sahid's unhappiness with some of the ideas of Riaz's group, as a book lover and an admirer of Rushdie's earlier [b:Midnight's Children|14836|Midnight's Children|Salman Rushdie|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1166661748s/14836.jpg|1024288]. The tensions this creates lead to the group discovering his relationship with Deedee and the drug taking, neither considered to be actions appropriate for a committed fundamentalist Muslim.
It is clear that Kureishi has little sympathy for the fundamentalists; this antipathy of a provocative author of fiction towards anyone who advocates book-burning is understandable. It is quite easy to provoke contempt for them in his readers - a scene where one of the other members of the group asks Sahid to tell him what value a book has, and responses to the reply that they make you think by questioning the value of thinking is one example. The novel generally is a convincing portrayal of the rootlessness probably felt by many British Asians.
The title comes from an album by Prince, itself a response to the Beatles' White Album, proclaiming his own racial identity.
sourmilkpages's review against another edition
2.0
2.5/5 — The Black Album is an okay novel, but very of it’s time. Very much part of that mid-90s Trainspottingesque lifestyle. Whilst it was interesting that Kureishi matched that with Islamic Fundamentalism, I do think that, particularly since the turn of the millennium and post-9/11, there are many more contemporary novels that deal with Religious Fundamentalism in a much more nuanced fashion and in a less male-heavy hedonistic fashion.
asuiterclarke's review against another edition
2.0
First posted on asuiterclarke.com:
Studying a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing made me a critical reader. That was one of the many benefits of doing that degree, besides the obvious insights and instruction for my own writing. But still, I really hate to be critical. I like to look for positive aspects of things and brush over the negative.
In book reviewing, however, I need to throw that habit out the window. Otherwise, I will beat around the bush and never really say what I want to say, which is this:
I did not like The Black Album. I wanted to–really, I did. Because it just so happens that I’ve met the author, and it’s always harder to be harsh about someone’s writing when you know him. However, as much as I tried throughout the reading of this book, I couldn’t find anything to like. Hanif Kureishi is undoubtedly a good writer, well respected in the writing community, and a multi-award-winner. And there are obviously plenty of people who liked his second novel.
I’m just not one of them. I enjoy reading diverse writing, and I do think that there isn’t enough of it in the mainstream these days. In that way, this was a refreshing read because I got to see inside the mind of someone very different from me: a young man, just starting uni in London, who grew up in a family from Pakistan.
There was a slight familiarity to his circumstances because I, too, have been a foreigner leaving home for the first time to attend university in London. I understand the uneasiness and excitement of arriving in London, being on my own, living among strangers and trying to make friends while I discover who I really am. Those things I understand, and for that reason I was able to empathize with Shahid, even if just in the smallest way.
Within weeks of arriving in London, Shahid meets his radical Muslim neighbors and falls for his married, liberal university professor. He is torn between his love of literature and hunger for knowledge, his sexual feelings for Deedee and the excitement of exploring the world of drugs and alcohol with her, and the passionate beliefs of his neighbor Riaz and his small band of followers.
There’s a lot to work with here, but somehow, nothing much really happens. I found Shahid a weak character in every sense of the word. He seems incapable of making up his mind from one chapter to the next. At first, he’s going to leave Deedee and commit wholeheartedly to following Riaz and fighting for the Islamic faith. Then, pages later, he’s in bed with Deedee and ready to give up any interest in religion in order to be with her. And then, all of a sudden, he’s in his room and wishing he could just be alone and read his books.
Now I suppose that’s not entirely unrealistic. We all face tough decisions in life, especially when we’re young and just starting out and don’t know our place in the world. That part of it is real to me. This is a coming-of-age story, after all, and that often involves a great amount of indecision.
The issue I have is that even with all of the militant religion; the obscene sexual discussion; the imbibing of multiple illegal substances and alcohol; and the drama with Shahid’s brother becoming a cocaine addict and losing all his money, his wife, and his child because of it–I still felt like nothing happened. No one changed, at least not in any satisfying way.
Kureishi’s writing isn’t bad. Some of the dialogue snaps on the page and his descriptions of London are certainly familiar to me, even though they were of London 20 years ago. There are moments of intensity when Riaz’s band of followers decide to burn Midnight’s Children on the university campus, or when they chase down Deedee and Shahid toward the end.
As a reader, though, I always want at least one character to love. Even if it’s a person that I would never get along with in real life, I want to love him or her because I’m seeing the world through that character’s eyes. Unfortunately, I looked for 276 pages and that character, for me, was not to be found.
Studying a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing made me a critical reader. That was one of the many benefits of doing that degree, besides the obvious insights and instruction for my own writing. But still, I really hate to be critical. I like to look for positive aspects of things and brush over the negative.
In book reviewing, however, I need to throw that habit out the window. Otherwise, I will beat around the bush and never really say what I want to say, which is this:
I did not like The Black Album. I wanted to–really, I did. Because it just so happens that I’ve met the author, and it’s always harder to be harsh about someone’s writing when you know him. However, as much as I tried throughout the reading of this book, I couldn’t find anything to like. Hanif Kureishi is undoubtedly a good writer, well respected in the writing community, and a multi-award-winner. And there are obviously plenty of people who liked his second novel.
I’m just not one of them. I enjoy reading diverse writing, and I do think that there isn’t enough of it in the mainstream these days. In that way, this was a refreshing read because I got to see inside the mind of someone very different from me: a young man, just starting uni in London, who grew up in a family from Pakistan.
There was a slight familiarity to his circumstances because I, too, have been a foreigner leaving home for the first time to attend university in London. I understand the uneasiness and excitement of arriving in London, being on my own, living among strangers and trying to make friends while I discover who I really am. Those things I understand, and for that reason I was able to empathize with Shahid, even if just in the smallest way.
Within weeks of arriving in London, Shahid meets his radical Muslim neighbors and falls for his married, liberal university professor. He is torn between his love of literature and hunger for knowledge, his sexual feelings for Deedee and the excitement of exploring the world of drugs and alcohol with her, and the passionate beliefs of his neighbor Riaz and his small band of followers.
There’s a lot to work with here, but somehow, nothing much really happens. I found Shahid a weak character in every sense of the word. He seems incapable of making up his mind from one chapter to the next. At first, he’s going to leave Deedee and commit wholeheartedly to following Riaz and fighting for the Islamic faith. Then, pages later, he’s in bed with Deedee and ready to give up any interest in religion in order to be with her. And then, all of a sudden, he’s in his room and wishing he could just be alone and read his books.
Now I suppose that’s not entirely unrealistic. We all face tough decisions in life, especially when we’re young and just starting out and don’t know our place in the world. That part of it is real to me. This is a coming-of-age story, after all, and that often involves a great amount of indecision.
The issue I have is that even with all of the militant religion; the obscene sexual discussion; the imbibing of multiple illegal substances and alcohol; and the drama with Shahid’s brother becoming a cocaine addict and losing all his money, his wife, and his child because of it–I still felt like nothing happened. No one changed, at least not in any satisfying way.
Kureishi’s writing isn’t bad. Some of the dialogue snaps on the page and his descriptions of London are certainly familiar to me, even though they were of London 20 years ago. There are moments of intensity when Riaz’s band of followers decide to burn Midnight’s Children on the university campus, or when they chase down Deedee and Shahid toward the end.
As a reader, though, I always want at least one character to love. Even if it’s a person that I would never get along with in real life, I want to love him or her because I’m seeing the world through that character’s eyes. Unfortunately, I looked for 276 pages and that character, for me, was not to be found.