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to depict herself as someone much in need of "closure" (not her term) with respect to her white-colonial childhood in war-torn Zimbabwe, and in so doing is overly obtuse in sporadic representations of empathy with ruined lives, black and white. The impulsiveness of her travels with a psychically (pre).-damaged war veteran leads her, and us, nowhere except to disgruntling uncertainties about her, the narrator. In the end, the reader is left wondering why the Who, What, Where, When is not complemented with the longed-for Why. Her stylish, semi-metaphorical descriptions of African ambiance too often seem detached from larger literary purpose, amounting on the whole to high-flown travelogue. Irresolution, multifariously manifested, unfortunately scribbles the book. Namely, why a book that slams to a dead-end. Fuller attempts unsuccessfully (as an afterthought).
If she had, there would be no question that, paired with her extensive writing talent, she would have a true winner of a book. Makes you wonder if she made a habit of tearing stories out of people whatever the cost. Surely she could have shown enough pure journalistic interest in this African that he would likely have shared his emotional life story. I, too, thought that this author expresses herself very well on paper. Anyway, all I can say is that I enjoyed the story but recoiled a bit from the author. Like other readers, I'm not sure exactly what she was about, fiddling with the raw emotions of the soldier she calls K. She is articulate and I think she knows it. She's a married woman flirting with this soldier, and then near the end of the book she begins flirting with still another man.
It has no overriding theme, no great catharsis. As a bonus, the descriptions of Africa, and life in Africa, are incredibly illuminating. The author is not up to those standards of writing, generally, but she has captured moments, distilled essences, that offer rare insight into war and how the people who are in it see that time. Just because they won't talk doesn't mean the impact isn't real. One could have their spat with the author about not revealing herself, or more of her role, in the events she portrays.
This book manages to capture some of that reality. These descriptions apply to the warriors who came home from Troy, the western front of WW2, and Vietnam. And, she doesn't just capture the warriors psyche, she captures the enemy, and the civilian supporter's psychological realities. My copy of this book had 251 pages of writing - but an encyclopedia of description for one who is discerning enough to see it. Rather, it ends in a very unsatisfying manner, but exactly like real life. You don't often get this kind of reality.
But, she has captured the essence of war, and the impact of war on the psyche, as very few have. The author also gives us insight into Africa, and black Africans. Most people who have been there won't talk about it. "The Thin Red Line" comes to mind, as does Hemingway. In real life, we don't have neat endings, or conclusions, and in this case, neither does the author or her characters. Her plot, on the other hand, has no pretensions of greatness.
She gives us moments of truth - descriptions of what really happens in war - that are so rare they may be unique. Why they are what they are today, how they became that way, and what they politically are.
Other reviewers have critisiced her for bring a married woman travelling in the company of unmarried men -I suspect the sense of outrage and male ownership of women's lives and bodies have more to do with that opinion that acknowledged in the reviews. It is a road story and I was immersed in a different viewpoint and moved by it, cried and laughed.
I have never read such aching longing for a country left - her descriptions of the Southern African night sky particularly - similar to the Inuit who have 40 words for white/snow - Bobo Fuller has 40 descriptions for the night sky in Southern Africa - each as evocative as the last. Her prose is beautiful.
Alexandra Fuller's Childhood memoirs Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight: An African Childhood would be a must pre-read BEFORE reading this book- otherwise her lack of presence (except as an observer) in Scribbling the Cat would lead one to think she is, perhaps, shallow and niave. It is thought provoking, disturbing and gives one a sense that despite the horrors of war, the useless, bloody wars of Africa and the atrocities men perpetrate on women and each other - that there are some redemptions.
I highly recommend Scribbling the Cat if you have a heart and want to see a glimpse of the inside of the effect Africa has on white people. Other reviewers here have stated that Ms Fuller is cruel, manipulative and lacks honesty, I disagree - it is a telling of the story - and "K" opened up to her (even if he was struggling with a delusion that she was the "promised one") of his own volition.
From a different perspective, who would care if the story was told by a man - about his wife and kids in Wyoming.This story is honest - Alexandra's adventure into the life and history of "K" the former Rhodesian soldier is more journalistic that autobiographical - she protects herself (and if you read her childhood memoir one would understand why) and is trying, I think, to sort out her shame and guilt of having been raised in white Rhodesia.
I tried to read on, but after a few more pages my copy found its way into a McDonald's trash can near Gate 17 in Reagan National. This was a huge disappointment for me because I really enjoyed Fuller's book, "Let's Don't Go To The Dogs Tonight." Problems with this title included a lack of focus for the first half, followed by an apology for a wartime event (during the Rhodesian conflict) that suddenly becomes a vehicle for slandering the efforts of those who fought against communism and terrorism.
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