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A review by octavia_cade
The Translator: A Tribesman's Memoir of Darfur by Daoud Hari
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
sad
medium-paced
4.0
Sometimes, I just want to say, about a book, "this is really awful," because there's not much else that can be said beyond that terrible, salient fact. Daoud Hari and his family lived in Darfur before the genocide began, and while many young men of his age joined one or other of the armed resistances, Hari's ability to speak English, Arabic, and Zaghawa meant that his skills put him in demand as a translator. First, he translated for the genocide investigators, as they interviewed over a thousand victims of the atrocities in Darfur, and then he translated for journalists in that region - something that put him in severe danger. Hari is a little cavalier about that danger, but it's clear that he - along with so many of the fighters - consider themselves practically dead anyway, and are just waiting for the act of their murder to catch up with the prospect of it.
This is a bitter, tragic approach, but surrounded by loss and brutality it's hard not to sympathise - some of the stories that he recounts, from the victims of that genocide, are absolutely horrific. I will say that he takes care not to overwhelm the reader with endless hideous examples, but there are enough here that we can imagine the sheer unbearable weight of the rest. What makes it more compelling is the tone and voice of the piece - I hesitate to call it chatty, exactly, but it's friendly and informal. Confiding, almost, as if he's reaching out to a friend; the fact that he's so easy to read and relate to almost makes it worse - there's no escaping the horror through a veneer of academic or organisational distance, for example. I have to admit that there were times I would have liked a little more depth as to what was going on - the first appendix, especially, was helpful in that regard - but that doesn't take away from the fact that this is a very affecting memoir.
This is a bitter, tragic approach, but surrounded by loss and brutality it's hard not to sympathise - some of the stories that he recounts, from the victims of that genocide, are absolutely horrific. I will say that he takes care not to overwhelm the reader with endless hideous examples, but there are enough here that we can imagine the sheer unbearable weight of the rest. What makes it more compelling is the tone and voice of the piece - I hesitate to call it chatty, exactly, but it's friendly and informal. Confiding, almost, as if he's reaching out to a friend; the fact that he's so easy to read and relate to almost makes it worse - there's no escaping the horror through a veneer of academic or organisational distance, for example. I have to admit that there were times I would have liked a little more depth as to what was going on - the first appendix, especially, was helpful in that regard - but that doesn't take away from the fact that this is a very affecting memoir.