Forna unravels a world damned to silent suffering that is only expressed through crippling nightmares fueled by the memories of love lost to war. Love, both familial and romantic is the subject of punishment for the political and social sins of each character. Love, meant to be the key to longevity, is lost to alternate modes of survival that challenge each character’s values and moral convictions. The aftermath of lost love leaves three men wandering in Sierra Leone’s red dust of loneliness and trauma, left to reckon with their own coping mechanisms which function for better or worse. 

Despite, Adrian’s initial thoughtless expatriation to Freetown, his love for his friends in his new home and empathy for each patient saves my own empathy for him. In the end, his ability to allow love to shift his perspective to the likeness of his African peers is also what allows the story to unfold and come to a conclusion. While at first I was unwilling to compare myself to Adrian, I had to accept that my lack of historical context and western upbringing allowed me to use Adrian as a vessel for challenging my own opinion of each Freetown character’s foreign temperaments and methods of emotional perseverance.

Adrian’s startling realization of the common fault in historical recordings is quite ironic given the long history of British rewriting of history apropos non-Western regions of the globe. This is due to the authoritative intentions of imperialist historical narration and the blunt ignorance of the traditions, customs and attitudes of the people in historical subject. Overall Forna’s political and philosophical commentary on the question of “who writes history” should be universally applied and should be remembered in every instance of governmental authority (no matter it be , decentralized, centralized, or  internationally unrecognized). 

Motifs of verdant gardens express the flourishing beauty of a country who can hope to progress yet later act as pitiful reminders of how, within half a generation, the gardens of hope can become overrun with the weeds and pestilence of silent submission to evil. The beautiful moments of intimacy between the latter love triangle boast the highest form of spiritual respite in between pages of psychological torment and descriptions of national destruction. This is illustrated by Forna’s Lucious scenes of lovemaking describing the profound fulfillment in being impossibly close to one’s lover. These memories of lovemaking were said to be repressed by Kai for the past year, presumably leading to his longing for platonic love in Tejani and his growing desire to increase his physical proximity to his once estranged friend. Present moments of lovemaking are so ripe within the later end of  Adrian’s  journey are so powerful they remove him entirely from the memories of his haunting responsibilities in London. 

My enjoyment of the novel primarily stems from learning to understand a world so different from mine. Simultaneously, I am able to connect to each story through the universal feelings of yearning, nostalgia, and regret all which are counterbalanced by sex, conception, and accepting one’s reality. These are all forms of love and all forms of love we may experience at one time or another. 

The challenges of reading this novel lie in the nebulous contextualizatjon of setting. While the more aesthetic  descriptions were quite satisfying, I felt lost when trying to reconcile the time period and location. This was also an issue when realizing Adrian was not a black man from England but a white man much later in the novel than I’d like to admit. This could have been a result if glazing over information early in the novel. Similarly, I understood the country’s setting only due to a book review I had previously read. Perhaps, this is an entitled ask and I could have done a bit more background research before reading rather than at disparate moments throughout the book.