Seronok bila membaca pengembaraan Roald di negara² afrika di dalam bab awal. Menurut penceritaannya, afrika sebuah negara yang indah. Teringin pula mahu ke sana.

Bila mula bercerita tentang peperangan antara British dengan German, sedikit pening di situ sebab banyak bercerita teknikal kapal terbang perang. Dia ni macam ada 9 nyawa, banyak kali kejadian merbahaya yang hampir meragut nyawanya,tapi masih terselamat.

Di hujung bab, dia akhirnya singgah di Haifa, Palestine pada 1940 an sebelum pulang ke Buckinghamshire. Ada suatu kejadian yang pelik baginya, dimana bermulanya titik² hitam orang Palestine. Dia telah bertemu dengan pelarian yahudi yang dibenarkan tinggal di situ oleh masyarakat tempatan. Pelarian itu mengutarakan pendapatnya yang jahat tentang penubuhan negara orang² yahudi.

Bothered by the idea that I completely missed my calling by 70 or so years either as an RAF Hurricane pilot in the Second World War or a Shell Oil man in East Africa in the late 1930’s.

heh. recommended to me by Miriam, who noticed that it wasn't on my Flying shelf. That's because I read it long before I set up my Goodreads account! Dahl's account of the Battle of Athens is one of my touchstones - the desperation and exhaustion of the RAF pilots, their relative cluelessness about what's going on everywhere else, the hands that shake too much to hold a cigarette when you're back on the ground - it's incredibly vivid and has influenced my own writing. The rest of the book is jaw-dropping too, for its evocation of 1930s Kenya and Empire life there. Going Solo is perhaps not Dahl's most lauded piece of writing but it's certainly the one I recommend most often.

There! On my flying shelf now!

In English class, we read the autobiography Going Solo by Roald Dahl. The book is all about his adventures in Africa while working for the Shell Oil Company, and while flying for the Royal Air Force in World War Two. The book also contains some of Dahl’s encounters with animals. He wrote it to tell the reader what it was like to live and explore in the African Savanna.

This book had some strong themes. The language can take a while to decipher, and can be quite annoying at times. At other times, it is easier to get the meaning out of a phrase. Dahl calmly states, “‘I think that we’re going to get killed’” (GS pg. 154), to his friend David Coke in the middle of the war. This shows that his view on life has changed throughout his experiences in war. Some of the weaknesses in Dahl’s writing were when he made it seem like there would be a great description on what happened, and sometimes there was none. That was very disappointing. I would probably recommend this book to others if they have an interest in adventure, and true stories.

Dahl’s writing style really helped me understand what was happening most of the time. He writes in a very easy to understand type of writing. I like his style, and would read all of his books if given the chance. The plot also helped with his style. I am very interested in WWII, and that is what half of this book was about. This book has also given me a different view on autobiographies. I do not have any connections to the story, but I feel that I will develop some in the future, as I age and have more experiences.

I will end on my favorite quote from the book. It is, “But there is a world of difference between falling in love with a voice and remaining in love with a person you can see.” (GS pg. 115) This quote has a lot of meaning behind it, and that is why I like it.

I have not hidden my review because of spoilers, since I am reviewing a memoir and not a novel of fiction, so it doesn’t matter even if I write about something which is potentially seen as a spoiler, it will only be a ‘detail’ of something the reader will already know about Roald Dahl’s life. Please note that I have generously interspersed memoir with novel and vice versa in the review.

O.K so here goes. I have given the book only three stars. I know mine will be an unpopular opinion and review but a review writer has to be honest and I can’t be dishonest with my reviews, that is not to say that other reviewers have been dishonest in giving it four or five stars but all I am saying is that I do not wish to mislead someone who is going to read my review and I don’t want to just give in to popular demand. So three stars it is.
1) I read this book on the recommendation ( yet again ) of my Best Friend, though I must by now realize that her taste vastly differs from mine and I should stick to books which I want to read and am curious about. Also, I am not going to read memoirs or biographies or auto-biographies for a long time now. I have never really liked reading them and I don’t want to make it a habit. Reading two in a row was quite enough for a year’s worth of reading biographies etc.
2) I digress. I need to focus on writing about the book, but it is very difficult to write a review for a memoir as it is essentially non-fiction and it is so difficult to comment on someone’s life story, this is a similar dilemma that I faced with ‘Lust For Life’ and which is why I say it is easier to write a review for an artist’s creation than about his/her life.
3) I still haven’t started the review so you can see how it is so difficult to ‘critically analyse’ a memoir. I think I prefer Roald Dahl’s fiction more than I enjoyed ‘Going Solo’, not that I have read many of his fiction, but I have read a couple of his short stories and his novel for children – ‘ The BFG’. My foremost problem with this book was the inherent racism. It is sometimes in your face and out- there but most of the times, it is subtle and paternalistic and condescending, which to put in layman’s words is called as the ‘White Man’s Burden’. Or rather I would say that Dahl seems to suffer from a ‘White Man’s Burden Syndrome’, he seems to be suffering acutely from it. One may accuse me of doing a post – colonial reading of a memoir or else reading too much into the book, but when the racism is so obvious and in your face, once cannot ignore it and it is offensive. I shall quote from the book as evidence.
‘It would seem that when the British live for years in a foul and sweaty climate among foreign people they maintain their sanity by allowing themselves to go slightly dotty.’ (pg. 3).
Further in a conversation that Dahl has with Ms. Trefusis aboard the ship bound for Africa.
‘People go quite barmy when they live too long in Africa.’ (pg .9).
So Dahl means to say that people who live in ‘sweaty’ climates (read Africa and India) are quite barmy and people who visit these people become ‘barmy’ if this is not racist then I don’t know what is!
As you must have noticed these were just the initial pages of the book and these lines were enough to turn me off and I found myself wanting to not read further! However, I did plod on for reading’s sake. His overt racism changed in to a covert one when he reaches Africa and he is staying at Dar-es Salaam; here he talks about being ‘treated like Princes.’ (pg .24) and how they had a ‘personal boy’ for each of them. (pg. 25). Further he talks about Mdisho, his ‘boy’ who was’ tall and graceful and soft – spoken, and his loyalty to me, his young white English master was absolute.’ (pg.25).
The first hundred pages of the book till the chapter ‘Flying Training’, the book is replete with such racist undertones and overtones and whatever ‘awe’ and ‘marvel’ that he feels for Africa etc. is trumped over by the blatant racism in the novel. I can’t resist adding how he is also racist towards his own European counterparts, in the chapter ‘Palestine and Syria’ where he recounts a ground strafe that he was part of –‘It was a Sunday morning and the French –men were evidently entertaining their girlfriends and showing off their aircraft to them, which was a very French thing to do in the middle of a war at a front –line aerodrome. (pg. 193). I must admit that I guffawed when I read this, if Dahl was making fun of the French as well, then well he was a general racist and did not just confine himself to the ‘ White Man’s Burden’ syndrome but also suffered from a ‘ British are the Best ‘ syndrome.
4) My second biggest problem with the book was the fact that the tome that Dahl uses. He is witty and sharp and sometimes even jocular and sardonic in his humour but I am not necessarily talking about the humour, I am talking about his tone- which tends to be extremely smug and over – confident. Why that matters and why I am pointing this out is the fact that Dahl paints the other character’s portraits in his memoir in a very condescending and a patronizing way, he seems to be saying that he is the best and he knows best and rest are all fools. This tone of his grates on this readers’ nerves as Dahl seems to know not what self – reflexivity means. He seems too full of himself and just plain smug. He keeps taking pot –shots at his seniors at the RAF and also paints unsavoury portraits of round about everyone else in the memoir. For example- the passenger whom we only know as U.N. Savory, is not only made fun but also ridiculed to a large extent. This dry wit or smugness (as I like to call it) definitely did not go down well with me. Not only was Dahl making fun of other people, he was being racist and of course patriarchal as well. The memoir is almost glaringly absent with women characters but of course it is a memoir and not a work of fiction. However, the one odd place he does took about women; he is patriarchal in the most terrible way possible. While aboard the SS Mantola, he learns from one of the ship’s officers that an Italian ship was also going south like the SS Mantola; was full of women who were being sent for the Italian soldiers’ entertainment. As if this was not terrible enough, instead of expressing his outrage at this unhappy and terrible event, Dahl goes on tell his readers- ‘I waved to the girls on the other ship and about 2,000 of them waved back at me. They seemed very cheerful. I wondered how long they would be feeling that way. (pg.22) Wow! I really wish that Dahl would exhibit some humaneness regards this incident but of course it was just too much for the asking, I guess! The only person in the novel who emerges as the ‘hero’ figure is Roald Dahl himself; surely other people in his life time must also count for something? Does not seem like that to me! The only sympathetic or ‘nice’ portrait that he gives us is of David Coke, perhaps only because he was to become the future Earl of Leicester, if he hadn’t passed away! The memoir reads something like this - ME! ME! ME!
5) People often comment on how it is so wonderful the way he has described Africa, Greece, and Syria etc. Frankly, I did not find anything so wonderful or amazing in his descriptions. What I mean to say is sure, he writes about all these places but he always writes about them as if they are ‘exotic’ and ‘strange’ but sometimes yes, he does talk about how he was so enamored by the beauty of the Grecian countryside etc. but those passages are few and far between. I mean I have read far better memoirs where the writers have talked about their love for nature or their being wonderstruck seeing the beauty of a particular place. Offhand it is difficult to give one right now, but the bottom-line is that Dahl’s description of the places he visits / stays are very ‘colonial’ and typical. Nothing different or amazing in his descriptions. I have read better.
6) Another grouse that I have with this memoir is the way he talks about the war. I mean it is war, but the way he talks about it is as if it is a young man’s adventure trip all paid for with thrills and rides or else it is a video game in which you are a RAF pilot. He talks about war in a very light way, as if the whole thing was fun! I am not saying that one talk about war in a very grim way (which one should because you know it is war!) but at least there can be some seriousness in one’s tone. Only here and there does he mention that people died or some fellow pilots passed away in combat. That is it. One line. Surely as a writer reminiscing about the war, he could have written a critique of it, written a paragraph on how horrible this whole business was! Something, anything! All we get are those few lines and ah yes, lines and paragraphs about he was young and how he was so brave and so intrepid, fearlessly flying, not afraid at all! Dahl, I feel is someone who is just too much in love with himself. A little too much for my liking as a reader of a memoir, which should have made him reflect on how he was all those years ago, but he does none of those things, he writes as if he was quite proud of his younger self. I am not in any way denigrating his contribution as a pilot or saying that he did not serve his country well or was a lousy pilot. All I am saying is that he was a wonderful pilot and it was amazing that he was a stalwart in times of crisis, but it would have been better if he had let the reader decide that for himself/ herself rather than rubbing it in the reader’s face repeatedly about he was so brave. If you know how amazing you are, you are not.
7) And finally, why I have bothered to give the novel at least three stars and not one. It is a memoir, a recounting of history and one has to validate someone’s personal history as it is as important as the Grand Narrative of History. Also, it was very interesting to read about Dahl’s life pre his writing days; it was fascinating to read about his stint at the RAF, I have extensively read war literature but never from a first person’s account, especially a RAF pilot. I got to know a lot about the different kinds of fighter planes – the Hurricanes, the Ju 88’s etc. The entire experience of Dahl’s as a pilot was very interesting. That is to say that, the book did not bore me. I did feel like reading further and was curious to know what would happen next. His liberal use of photographs juxtaposed with the narrative also added to the novelty of the book, making it more interesting. I would want to read the prequel ‘Boy’ simply because this memoir was a sequel and I think it is essential to read the prequel as well. Though I have critiqued the memoir heavily, I do think the future reader who reads this review should not shy away from reading the memoir, as I do feel that it is interesting to read about the war from a pilot’s perspective albeit a smug one! So, have a go at it but don’t expect too much and you might just be pleasantly surprised at the end, not to forget the fact that Dahl does write well, in an engaging way, inviting the reader to see the world with his eyes. (However, prejudiced they may be!) Probably, Dahl tries to showcase the war in a different light and in a different way, which I guess one might appreciate even if I did not. Also, one’s heart wells up at the end when Dahl returns home to his family, and his Mum has no idea that he is alive and well and has returned home! It was extremely touching and poignant to say the least!
I think I will end this rather long review by making it clear to the future reader that I have at last reached the conclusion, that I did not enjoy the book as I might have if I had liked Dahl the man, I only seem to like or appreciate Dahl the writer and not the man and therein lies my problem of writing reviews of memoirs.

Qué vidas tan pobres que vivimos en estos tiempos modernos.
Amo leer sobre Dahl, podría hacerlo por siempre.

I'm not sure why this is marketed is a kid's book. It's a very adult biography of Dahl's experiences before and during WW2, and has adult themes to it, including a pretty bleak outlook on the war.

Dahl recounts his adult life here. From dealing with eccentric British expats (one husband and wife run naked every morning, one obsesses about cleanliness and thinks toes are disgusting,) to the horror of rounding up Germans to send to a camp once war is declared (and discovering the barbarism of the "boy" he taught to read,) to his less than glorious career as a fighter pilot, it's all there.

It's a short book, but it simply is too mature to be considered kid's literature. There's no whimsy to it, and none of the absurdism of his kid's fiction. I'm not sure kids would really get it. It's not really a stirring account of being a fighter pilot (Dahl spends most of the book recovering from a landing injury, and he fought in campaigns that were futile and had high casualty rates,) and in many ways it reads like a mini-Catch 22; a record of the absurdities war can bring.

I'm not sure how kids would react to it, so I can only rate it okay. It's not so much the writing, but the themes that make it hard to do so.

My WORD. This was an eye-opening combination of humorous "Englishman abroad" and hair-raising WWII memoir! Starting out with his time, just out of school, as a Shell Oil employee in Dar es Salaam, the story moves right into the outbreak of WWII and Dahl's becoming an RAF pilot, because that is exactly what happened. He was never able to go home, and for three years his only contact with his beloved mother and sisters were the letters that they managed to send each other. Dahl's trademark humor and complete lack of respect for authority make for an interesting look at war in northern Africa, to say the least!

But seriously, though: I don't think God intended Roald Dahl to have a nose. First there's the car accident in Boy. Then there's the plane crash in this one. I'm amazed he looked as good as he did as an older man!

Roald Dahl is not just a great writer - he's a wonderful human being, and that's what makes him so damn good at writing too.

He's observant and self-aware, matter-of-fact but wondering, curious and amazed at life, brave and charming in the way he writes and the things he's done, concise and generous and really fucking tall.
I'm pretty much in love with his soul.

When I was a teenager this felt like an epic read.
Now all grown up(some might disagree)
it doesn't feel as long as I thought it was but it doesnt change how great it is to read Dahls representation of the world around. His way with words and what he picks up on and presents to the reader lead to such an interesting and fun read. All in all the book only represents a small portion of his fascinating life but it draws you in.
His aerial battle scenes are so well written, never glamourising but still exciting.
So glad I revisted this book from my childhood.

GOING SOLO- ROALD DAHL

It’s a little ironic that I post this on social media, but I often wonder about a world without social media. Since the COVID-19 pandemic hit, and 'shelter-at-home' orders were given, the worth, or inadequacy, of social media is something that bears thinking about. Did social media make the lockdown more tolerable? Would, perhaps, the absence of Twitter or Facebook have impelled us to learn more skills, become better rounded personalities as opposed to putting up pictures of imperfectly baked banana bread (speaking for myself) and rock-hard sourdough bread (again, myself). Guess I’ll never know.

Going Solo is the second part of Roald Dahl’s autobiography. Book Two, if you will. Despite not being a great lover of autobiographies or memoirs, I loved the first part of Dahl’s autobiography--aptly titled Boy which describes his formative years and boyhood. Along with Dahl’s gift for storytelling, there is a candor and vulnerability about the prose in Boy which invokes both empathy, and curiosity in the reader. Going Solo is, if anything, slightly better drawing the reader into the world of the young Roald, newly come to manhood, set for adventures in the east as yet another Empire-Builder.

The book begins with Roald Dahl on his way to Tanganyika, East Africa (modern day Tanzania) where he is to take up a post as an employee of the Royal Dutch Shell Company. With his inimitable wit and imagination, Dahl weaves a colorful tapestry of various characters that he comes across on his voyage from England to East Africa, including a motley mix of empire builders--eccentric British folk dispatched to various corners of the Raj, and who are, in Dahl’s opinion, ‘dotty’. If there is one thing that I personally love about Roald Dahl’s books, it is that his characters are almost always eccentric, mercurial, and sometimes, downright dotty. After reading his autobiography, it’s fairly clear as to from where the author gets his inspiration. The veritable cast includes- a British Major who takes his exercise in the nude on the deck of the ship along with his wife; an aged lady with a pathological aversion to dirt and believe it or not, toes; and, Mr. U.N Savory (no pun intended): A man so obsessed with hiding his baldness he goes through the elaborate ruse of carrying four wigs, and sprinkling Epsom salt on his clothes to give the impression that he has natural hair and suffers from dandruff!

While the first part of the book is amusing and Dahl’s anecdotes of the imperial gophers’ eccentricities are fun, the second part is truly captivating. In spare and crisp prose, Dahl captures daily existence of an empire-builder in a far flung and sparsely populated part of the British Empire. There are incidents with snakes, lions kidnapping women, and general romanticizing of the Raj and its African possessions. Despite my general aversion to colonialism and reluctance to read books which romanticize the Raj, some of it does makes for captivating reading. However, the pace of the book really accelerates once the Second World War breaks out and Dahl volunteers to join the Royal Air Force. This part of the book reads like a good old-fashioned WW II pulp novel, with dogfights over the Mediterrenean, crashlandings, and of course, beautiful nurses. Some of the writing here is lovely. Take for instance the author’s reflections while convalescing in a hospital after a serious, life-threatening, injury:
“I was already beginning to realize that the only way to conduct oneself in a situation where bombs rained down and bullets whizzed past, was to accept the dangers and all the consequences as calmly as possible. Fretting and sweating about it all was not going to help.”
A sanguine rumination on a terrible war, which can quite easily be applied to the times we live in (be cool but wear a mask while being cool).

But for me personally, the most touching bit about the book is its conclusion. Wounded and homesick, Dahl returns home to England to find London’s ashes in the aftermath of the Blitz. Put yourself in Roald Dahl’s shoes: He is in the middle of the cruelest conflict in human history, with devastating consequences, both home and abroad, and no way to know if his family have survived the conflict. There’s no social media, telephones are not ubiquitous, and the only way to communicate with a loved one being a telegraph- censored, unreliable and hopelessly late. Churchill and Hitler are not politely beseeching you to ‘fight if you can’ or ‘be safe’ or to ‘stay home’; a war to end wars rages, and your home is rubble. In the midst of this, Dahl, wounded by his life-threatening injuries, makes his weary way home after a discharge on medical grounds and finds his mother gone. He worries. Finally, he gets her on the phone. She’s moved away from London, away from the Blitz. She can’t quite believe that its really her son and he’s actually alive--- living, breathing, flesh and bone. The first words she utters are: “Is that really you, Roald?”

Maybe, it’s not so bad for us after all. Just maybe, instead of lamenting my today, I ought to look back and wonder what it was like to live in a world on fire.

Dang, this guy had a crazy life! I really enjoyed the stories of his time in Africa, although the ones about snakes kind of freaked me out at times. It was interesting to get a snapshot of late British colonialism in Africa as well - it's easy for me to forget that it wasn't that long ago that Europe was sticking its fingers everywhere on that continent and elsewhere. Dahl's adventures in World War II, especially in Greece, were seriously intense, with numerous close shaves and narrow escapes. I kept thinking to myself how glad I was that he didn't die there, because then we would have missed out on all the books he would go on to write. The narration was also excellent, although now my mental picture of Roald Dahl as a young man looks like Dan Stevens, even though I went and looked Dahl up to find pictures from his RAF days.