I think I am just too old
and mature to enjoy a book like Stephen Kelman’s Pigeon English. It comes off
as too cutesy and a little saccharine for me, probably because I have matured
as a reader in a rather short amount of time. I remember a time when a book
like this could get me going and I could find myself totally enveloped in story
of a youngster trying to understand a world that will never understand them. I think
everyone who is actually intelligent will find some solace in books like these
in there younger years, which would explain why some people still swear by,
quite erroneously, in my opinion, by J. D. Salinger. I even remember the time I
read Mark Haddon’s The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night-Time in a single
sitting with great joy. But now I find these kinds of books just leave me
wanting more. Pigeon English begins with a murder and follows one boy’s quest
to solve it. The boy in question, Harri, a recent immigrant from Ghana living
in the London projects, begins to investigate, leading down dark paths into the
immigrant underworld that might lead to his demise. I can at least appreciate the
upbeat tone of this novel, which shows scary situations and teen violence
through the lens of an innocent, naïve ten year old. It really is a breath of
fresh air. But for all that I found the book rudimentary in what it was talking
about, and some of the slang the kid uses, like bo-style to denote awesome,
being very cheesy. It is hard to believe that this book was shortlisted for the
Booker Prize, although I have my issues with that board, so maybe it’s not hard
to believe. Blame it on reading The Savage Detectives beforehand, but this book
is a harmless dud.
Rating: 2/5
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