Pigeon English [Anglais] [Broché]

The story of Harri Opuku, an eleven year old immigrant from Ghana living in London with his older sister and mother, is one that may take you by surprise; as it sure did me. Written with a stylish mix of Anthony Burgess, Bret Easton Ellis, JD Salinger and newbie Helen Grant, `Pigeon English' has a heart and soul all its own.

Not to point fingers, but this is everything that `Little Bee' should have been.

Stephen Kelman's debut novel certainly has wet my appetite for more to come, considering that `Pigeon English' had me glued from page one and kept me completely enthralled until the poignant and stunningly tragic conclusion. I cannot wait for him to deliver something of equal ferocity in the form of a sophomore novel. He is one that I am anxious to see what else he has in store; for he certainly has the talent to deliver.

`Pigeon English' tells the story of Harri, a young and naïve boy who is searching for some normalcy in his new environment. Coming to London in hopes of a better life, Harri is in a family divided as he awaits the arrival of his youngest sister and his father from their native Ghana. Harri tries to acquaint himself with his new life, but everything is so different, and when a young boy winds up murdered, Harri finds himself living out a real life horror show. Taking it upon himself to solve the murder, Harri pushes buttons and makes astute observations that betray his innocence and threaten his very life.

But this is all about Kelman, and his ability to create something so fresh with a prose ripe with clichéd opportunities. Instead of succumbing to a predictable thriller-type plot, Kelman makes the focal point of his novel Harri himself. Far more interesting than uncovering the truth behind the `dead boys' murder; `Pigeon English' takes the time to fully develop Harri Opuko, making him three dimensional and relatable. When he questions things we take for granted we are taken to a place of innocence that we've long since left behind, and it is Harri's astute observations of life and the people that infect it that really make this novel so unforgettable. His poignancy is never overshadowed by his naivety, and visa-versa. Harri is one of the more memorable protagonists of modern literature, and if all were right in this world he would be regarded as such by many for years to come.

`Pigeon English' takes the reader on a heartwarming and eventually heartbreaking journey through the eyes of a young boy out of his element yet completely in our hearts. It will make you smile, it will make you squirm and it will make you cry; sometimes simultaneously.

There are three aspects to this debut novel that are probably going to make or break the average reader's reaction to it. The first is that it is largely plotless -- instead it follows an 11-year-old immigrant from Ghana as he makes his way around the impoverished London estate new home. The second is that it is narrated in his broken, or "pidgin" English. And the third is that at the start and end of some chapters, it also features some first-pigeon narration from, well, a pigeon.

Personally, while I tend to prefer plot-driven fiction, I can live with minimal or no plot if there is something to connect with. And in this book, 11-year-old Harrison (aka "Harri") Opoku is such a lovable, naive, child that I couldn't help but connect with his irrepressible spirit. Like Harri, moved from Africa to an alien first-world country at around age 10-11, and found it to be a similarly bewildering and hostile place. Others may find Harri to be too precious or unbelievably innocent, but I fell for him hook, line, and sinker. And to be fair, the book is not entirely plotless, there is a murder mystery to propel things, along with a minor romantic subplot.

I tend to really like writing that has a distinctive sound, from the thick Scots of Irvine Welsh's work to the Edwardian slang of P.G. Wodehouse to the Nadsat Anthony Burgess concocted for A Clockwork Orange. I found the Ghanaian-inflected English that peppers the book's description and dialogue (my favorite is the admonishment "advise yourself!") to be neither overwhelming, nor labored. It appears in just the right dosages and just the right times, and carries enough nuance to remind the reader of Harri's outsider status.

I will admit that much as I liked this book, that the bits involving the pigeon just didn't work at all for me. About a third of the way in I just starting skipping the pigeon's narrative portions (which is easily done as they appear in italics). It feels like a strained gimmick, and the only justification I can think of is that the author was attempting to invoke the classic English novel A Kestrel for a Knave.

Ultimately, the book fits securely into that mode of storytelling that uses immigrant eyes and voices to reveal the flaws of their host society. In that sense, it functions as effective critique of contemporary Britain, one clearly drawn from the author's own background and experiences. Some of these themes and setting are similar to Peter Akinti's recent book Forest Gate, albeit with a very different tone. I am not at all surprised to see that the BBC has commissioned a script from the book and a screen adaptation appears likely.

If you read this book expecting it to be a murder mystery that will be solved by boy detectives, you're likely to be disappointed. The story does open with a murder, and young Harri and his friends make half-baked attempts to solve it, but like boys around the world, they're easily distracted. These aren't the Hardy Boys; Harri Opoku's idea of crime detection is to scan the horizon for clues using his plastic binoculars, to conduct stakeouts with an ample supply of Cherry Coke, and to stick tape on random objects near (and not so near) the crime scene to see if he can lift fingerprints. The kids he doesn't like (including the several who bully him) are, of course, his prime suspects. Quite by accident Harri stumbles upon actual evidence. When he gets close to the truth (again, quite by accident) trouble ensues.

Still, this isn't a plot-driven novel; it's a chronicle of a short period in a boy's life. When he isn't detecting, Harri talks to his friends about superheroes, goes to school (he's delighted to learn that a lemon can be made into a battery), fights with his sister Lydia (who is keeping a mysterious secret of her own), admires his platonic girlfriend Poppy, and runs away from bullies (some of whom he provokes because he knows he can outrun them). Occasionally Harri thinks about his life in Ghana, where his father and grandmother still live, keeping in touch by telephone. Now and then he contemplates pigeons.

Harri loves pigeons. He believes he's communicating with a special pigeon friend, although he's uncertain whether these silent conversations are real or imagined. From time to time we're treated to a philosophical pigeon's-eye-view of the world. I confess to being a bit puzzled by those passages. Are we really hearing the thoughts of a numinous pigeon who is watching over Harri, or are we hearing Harri's thoughts as he imagines the pigeon's thoughts? The pigeon's voice is different from Harri's, more mature and less slangy, suggesting that Harri does indeed have a guardian pigeon. Either way, the pigeon passages don't fit in with, and in fact detract from, the rest of the story.

Fortunately, most of the novel is in Harri's voice -- a voice that struck me as authentic, although I admit I don't know any preteens from Ghana who are being raised in London. It took me awhile to figure out that "asweh" means "I swear" and I had to use Google to learn that "hutious" is Ghanaian slang for "frightening" but those words contribute to Harri's unique style of speaking. Harri loves words; "paradiddle" is one of his favorites. Sometimes he adopts (and misuses) a new favorite word ("orgasm," for instance) without quite understanding its meaning.

Harri is a completely innocent kid -- he knows several words and phrases pertaining to sex but his understanding of them is invariably inaccurate. When his sister's friend teaches him to French kiss (a skill he thinks he may need if he is to cement his relationship with Poppy), Harri is disgusted by the lesson. Harri understands the world with a child's logic; his observations -- the notion, for instance, that eyelashes are basically bug shields -- contribute a good bit of the novel's humor. Despite his desire to be as cool as the gang members who inhabit his neighborhood, Harri is disturbed by the crime and violence that surrounds him. Harri's innocence in a corrupt world is part of the book's charm.

The mystical pigeon notwithstanding, I enjoyed this quirky, offbeat novel. It captures the universal experience of childhood from an immigrant's perspective. That perspective is important; Stephen Kelman seems to be saying that life might be awful in Ghana but there's no guarantee it will be any better in London. Some readers won't like the ending. I'm not sure I liked it but I think it's honest. More than that I can't say without saying too much.