loved this book. Loved the concept for the book.

3.5/5

n  Waiting. This is what is wearing me out. These days have minds of their own.n

I've reached the point of my literary career where I no longer worry about subconscious overcompensation skewing my evaluations when it comes to works on the margins of my view. If another reader finds my praise overblown, I'll be too thrilled with a population large enough to encompass diverging to worry about 'fake' opinions and all that self-doubt. Time will always be of the essence so long as literature is a subsidiary of capitalism, so I'd rather read, go with my gut, and move on, especially now when the end of my access to one of the, if not the largest, collection of library books is fast approaching. Chances are good I won't burn through my hundreds of home library collection works between June and grad school, but if there's one thing I've learned from my unorthodox undergrad days, it's don't put too much stock in long winded extensions of academic training. A PhD would be cool and all, but I've got enough experience in interlibrary loans to be able to say with confidence that I'd work there for the rest of my days.

Anyways. The book. Ivorian via heritage is something few authors on this site can lay claim to, and coupling that to women in translation gives me a work I'm comfortable with throwing at others in hopes that they'll like it more than I did. Other key words include Experimental and Postcolonial and all that jazz that'll give you a migraine if you actively refuse to venture outside of the standard literary comfort zone. Freedom of choice and all, but it's not my fault that the trends what gets read where and how and how long are so damn consistent. What is is my personal disfavoring of the facts and metaphors this work beats around and through. I appreciated the oscillation between the aerial beauty of vagueness and the acrid stench that is the meditation on gendered violence, but the number of times various disabilities were viewed as adequate substitutes for actual engagement with language was one and one and far too many. Translation, translation, translation, but if that were true, my numbfuck of a country wouldn't still be enacting genocide on various extremely-Englished populations within its borders, so I prefer to take what I can get and poke the dialectic into a higher pitch.

In the end, I expected more smaller bits of the small piece that this is to appeal, but areas of expertise are not built on universal enjoyment. To all those reading, you should still check this out, as well as 50 Books By African Women That Everyone Should Read. Read a little as if the world were a thing for a change.

n  You should listen to those whose voices remain unheard although the wisdom they carry is shaped by their closeness to the earth. No refined language but the pace of life at a gallop refashiones outmoded images, well-worn phrases, and ways of thinking that are out of date.n

The writing is absolutely beautiful! After finishing it yesterday I don't remember pretty much anything from it except that it was lovely and a bit tedious. So I don't think I'll remember it in the future, unfortunately.

The language is beautiful but I have no idea what I just read.

The writing is very good, but I was lost regarding whether to place this under poetry or fiction.

I don't know how to rate this little enigmatic book. It seemed like it was written by someone trying to work through fresh heartbreak from a failed love affair. On the one hand there was something compelling about its abstraction and dreamlike quality, but I was distracted by inconsistent tenses and points of view; as well as superficial-sounding sentences like: “There is no smoke without fire; if you find ashes, it must be that something has burnt.” (LXIII, page 89)

Huh - As the Crow Flies... The writing was AMAZING—gorgeous, lyrical prose and I lovingly drank it in—but it wasn't until after I'd finished the book that I discovered what it was all about!

You have got to love Veronique Tadjo. There’s something about her books. It’s something more than just burying your head in a book. You immerse yourself in it. You follow her words. You listen to their sounds. Their echoes. The things they say long after you’re gone.

All or probably most of the stories in the book are expressive. Some are like little letters to a lover, and others, they talk of pain, and hope, but Tadjo carves all of these somehow on the theme of love—for someone. For something.

You might have to read the book more than once to totally get it. But if you’re someone who appreciates poetry, I’m sure you will get this. Or well, maybe not.

Reads 35//50: AS THE CROW FLIES BY VERONIQUE TADJO
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#50booksinayearchallenge
#50readschallenge
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I am a big fan of word play ... In my world word play is the beginning of foreplay.

Joli petit livre, entre poésie et anecdotes, à la fois léger et profond. J'ai adoré l'écriture de Tadjo, très poétique, imagée, personnelle.
Une belle découverte.

Short unconnected stories told in poetic language. The theme of love, longing and loss dominates the work. It makes the whole book seem like unwritten love letters from a heart going through different seasons. Véronique chose an unconventional format which could leave the book a failure in the hands of someone less skilled, but she pulls it off and leaves us with beautiful compelling snippets of flowing thoughts.

A book that I have been meaning to read for a long time, and I guess I am glad that I finally did. Though I have to admit that I found Tadjo's style in this novel is not really to my taste. The individual sections are lyrical and interesting, but how they all tie in together is not always clear to me.