Diego Garcia by Natasha Soobramanien and Luke Williams review – protest fiction for a new generation

One of the US’s largest abroad navy bases lies within the Indian Ocean on Diego Garcia within the Chagos Islands. How that got here to go is murky, to say the least. The islands have been as soon as a part of Mauritius, a British colony till 1968. Figuring out the US wished a base there, Britain made independence conditional on retaining Chagos, which it promptly leased to the US in alternate for cut-price nuclear submarines. None of this got here earlier than parliament or Congress – or the Chagossians, who over the subsequent 5 years have been faraway from the islands by subterfuge and drive, barred from returning to dwell there.

If ever there have been a topic for a protest novel… But the idea of political fiction is only one of many issues difficult by Natasha Soobramanien and Luke Williams’s fantastic new guide. Opening in 2014, it follows two Edinburgh-based writers, Damaris, who's British-Mauritian (like Soobramanien), and Oliver, who's Scottish (like Williams). The story activates their encounter with Diego, a garrulous Mauritian who vanishes after a few nights out of their firm, leaving them solely together with his baggage, each literal and figurative within the type of his story of the distress, or sagren, which adopted his mom’s childhood expulsion from Chagos in 1973.

For Damaris and Oliver, his story is an schooling, and maybe for us, too, because the writers’ subsequent, more and more outraged reading-up on the Chagossians (as soon as dismissed as “a couple of Man Fridays” in a British authorities memo) finds its approach immediately into the narrative, glossed or verbatim, in an unfussy method akin to Ali Smith. However the stakes are raised when, to Oliver’s quiet dismay, Damaris composes an experimental story that, comprising the second a part of the novel, maps Diego’s tragedy on to the tragedy of Oliver’s brother, a video artist who killed himself after leaving a psychiatric ward.

There’s a lot heat within the guide’s portrait of literary friendship, as the 2 writers discuss of Adorno and autofiction en path to and from the library and pub, getting by on instructing gigs and bitcoin buying and selling. However the very first thing you discover is the guide’s type. Cigarettes are at all times known as “tubes”, books “blocks” and the textual content splits into two columns every time Damaris and Oliver are aside; after they’re collectively, run-on sentences meld first-person plural and third-person singular: “We’d spent [the morning] the way in which we spent each morning, him coming to her room with espresso, her accusing him of switching the heating off, him denying this.”


Greater than a gimmick, the type is vital to a novel that unsettles the notion of writing as a solitary pursuit, letting air out of the egotism that tends to hold over literary manufacturing. Co-authorship is one technique – Soobramanien additionally wrote two chapters of Williams’s 2011 debut, The Echo Chamber (a difficult-sounding enterprise alluded to in Oliver and Damaris’s backstory) – however the narrative thrust additionally attracts us away from the concept of literature as a winner-takes-all pursuit. Even earlier than Oliver questions Damaris’s motives, we’re invited to lift an eyebrow at her need to put in writing a guide that may “join the social loss of life of the Chagossian folks ghosted by the British authorities to the constructions of intercontinental superexploitation… The blow my guide will deal to the military-industrial complicated!”

Diego Garcia is righteously scandalising but it recognises, vitally, that the crucial to flow into the painful historical past of the Chagossians doesn’t require anybody to assert it for themselves. As an alternative of getting down to go away us acclaiming the authors’ ability in evoking the islanders’ plight, it sends us off within the course of different articles, books and movies, reminiscent of Olivier Magis’s exceptional documentary One other Paradise, concerning the Chagossian neighborhood in Crawley. Intimate but expansive, heartbroken however unbowed, and a guide about writing that's something however solipsistic, it’s a stirring novel that lights a approach ahead for politically aware fiction.

Diego Garcia by Natasha Soobramanien and Luke Williams is revealed by Fitzcarraldo Editions (£12.99). To help the Guardian and Observer order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Supply fees might apply

Post a Comment

Previous Post Next Post