A review by andrew_russell
In the Light of What We Know by Zia Haider Rahman
2.0
If I was to describe In the Light of What We Know in one word, the one I would choose would have to be....(drumroll)....tedious. But more on that later.
Rahman clearly has authorial chops - the most effective section of this novel was the first 100-150 pages, which included lurid and sensual descriptions of Bangladesh, as well as captivating character sketches that definitely drew my interest.
But from there on in, it's mainly downhill and Rahman's work becomes a disjointed, uninteresting mishmash of cod philosophy and exactly the type of character relationships that offer nothing of literary value other than the relationships themselves, however complex those relationships may be. Oh, and it's bloated...God, is Rahman's work bloated. Not since Ducks, Newburyport have I encountered such an inverted relationship between a novel's length and it's value as a work of literature.
I mentioned 'cod philosophy', and it's worth expounding in detail what exactly I was referring to when I stated this. This novel pinballs from one high-fallutin' thought to another. Undoubtedly, these are clever but ultimately the effect is that the authorial voice roars above those of the characters themselves, for it is never less than blindingly obvious that these nuggets of intelligent thought come directly from the authors mind, without passing through the filter of the characters who are said to be generating the thoughts. It also means that what you end up with is a whole load of heterogenous ideas and concepts, with nothing overarching them. To put it concisely, Rahman's novel says a lot, while saying little that is worth the reader taking away.
So in short, not to be recommended. Early flashes of promise, quickly fizzling out into protracted dullness.
Rahman clearly has authorial chops - the most effective section of this novel was the first 100-150 pages, which included lurid and sensual descriptions of Bangladesh, as well as captivating character sketches that definitely drew my interest.
But from there on in, it's mainly downhill and Rahman's work becomes a disjointed, uninteresting mishmash of cod philosophy and exactly the type of character relationships that offer nothing of literary value other than the relationships themselves, however complex those relationships may be. Oh, and it's bloated...God, is Rahman's work bloated. Not since Ducks, Newburyport have I encountered such an inverted relationship between a novel's length and it's value as a work of literature.
I mentioned 'cod philosophy', and it's worth expounding in detail what exactly I was referring to when I stated this. This novel pinballs from one high-fallutin' thought to another. Undoubtedly, these are clever but ultimately the effect is that the authorial voice roars above those of the characters themselves, for it is never less than blindingly obvious that these nuggets of intelligent thought come directly from the authors mind, without passing through the filter of the characters who are said to be generating the thoughts. It also means that what you end up with is a whole load of heterogenous ideas and concepts, with nothing overarching them. To put it concisely, Rahman's novel says a lot, while saying little that is worth the reader taking away.
So in short, not to be recommended. Early flashes of promise, quickly fizzling out into protracted dullness.