Amazon Link: An evil cradlingThere is no easy way to review this book, no simple manner by which to encapsulate the brutal horror of experience that underlies it.
This is a true story, written by one man as self-confessed catharsis, among other things. It’s not a pretty read. It’s not joyful, enlightening, encouraging… it’s shocking, terrifying, disturbing. Instead of giving me insight into one aspect of terrorism, abduction by Muslim extremists so they may bring awareness to their plight and achieve a greater standard of living, it served to illustrate the sheer pointlessness of these actions. Though this book, and one man’s perceptions and interpretation of his experiences cannot be taken to be representational of all terrorists and their motivations, it painted a disturbing picture of some individuals as being poorly educated, brain-washed, fear-driven drones whose lives are in service of a God they do not understand, and whose sexual and violent impulses are basal at best.
In our present state of living under a thin static of feared terrorism, it is frightening to imagine that people like this are our enemies. They are to be pitied, yet their monstrous ability to take life is inarguable.
The author, Brian Keenan spent four and a half years in captivity. He was abducted in Beirut and held in Lebanon, passed between different groups and locations, all the while given no certainty of his release, or of his life. Some of that time he was on his own, kept in a tiny, filthy cell, fed once a day, told nothing, afforded no protection from temperature extremes, fear, the terrifying ramblings of his own mind.
He was a writer before capture, a poet and essayist, recognised and awarded for his natural talent. This natural ability proved to be both a blessing and a curse, for without a means by which to escape his own mind, he turned inwards, his imagination a cruel tormentor until he managed to grasp it, use it to his advantage, afford for himself a quieting, a reprieve from insanity.
For most of his captivity, Brian was housed with a British journalist, John McCarthy. Though both men came from different countries, had dissimilar experiences, and arguably given the unrest in Northern Ireland and the comparative peace in England, could have been at odds with each other, they bonded and relied on each other for companionship and maintenance of sanity. Often times they were kept in confined spaces, cells no larger than the average bathroom, their only provisions a mattress and whatever junk they could squirrel away and turn into games or utensils.
Their basic need for food, clothing, sanitary access, was reliant on the men who held them. Though Brian did not experience torture, in the true physical sense of the word, he was often the victim of his pride and of circumstance, and endured serious beatings, some doled out by a sadistic guard who, plagued by feelings of inadequacy and sexual repression, bolstered his manhood by inflicting pain.
The book is more introspection than action. Brian spends a lot of time thinking things through, his life, his circumstances, the greater worldview and what may be to blame for the present unrest between cultures. He is a smart man, and so is John, so when they are celled together, their conversations were deep, their reliance on each other buffered by elaborate trading of insults. It’s impossible not to care deeply for them all, and at one point they witness the beating and inhumane isolation of an American prisoner, a quiet, gentle man (already suicidal) who the guards suspected as a spy. The cruelty of the treatment and the mental fragility of the victim affects them all deeply. I, the reader, safe in my home with my dog at my side, cried. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever read.
As much as this is a difficult book to review, it is also difficult to rate. I can’t say I enjoyed it, but I read it in one day and couldn’t rest until it was finished. I believe I’m a better, more informed, more empathic person for the experience and for that I am grateful. However, the increased knowledge that this book provides also dislodges an uncertain fear inside of me, the distant threat of terrorism, of disruption to my safe little world. That fear is not only selfish. It enrages my sense of a just right for all human beings, that cruelties such as this can occur. I wish common understanding would resolve it, but there is no reasoning with some people, with their beliefs, their mindsets, and this book evidences that.
Rating: ***** out of five.
This is a true story, written by one man as self-confessed catharsis, among other things. It’s not a pretty read. It’s not joyful, enlightening, encouraging… it’s shocking, terrifying, disturbing. Instead of giving me insight into one aspect of terrorism, abduction by Muslim extremists so they may bring awareness to their plight and achieve a greater standard of living, it served to illustrate the sheer pointlessness of these actions. Though this book, and one man’s perceptions and interpretation of his experiences cannot be taken to be representational of all terrorists and their motivations, it painted a disturbing picture of some individuals as being poorly educated, brain-washed, fear-driven drones whose lives are in service of a God they do not understand, and whose sexual and violent impulses are basal at best.
In our present state of living under a thin static of feared terrorism, it is frightening to imagine that people like this are our enemies. They are to be pitied, yet their monstrous ability to take life is inarguable.
The author, Brian Keenan spent four and a half years in captivity. He was abducted in Beirut and held in Lebanon, passed between different groups and locations, all the while given no certainty of his release, or of his life. Some of that time he was on his own, kept in a tiny, filthy cell, fed once a day, told nothing, afforded no protection from temperature extremes, fear, the terrifying ramblings of his own mind.
He was a writer before capture, a poet and essayist, recognised and awarded for his natural talent. This natural ability proved to be both a blessing and a curse, for without a means by which to escape his own mind, he turned inwards, his imagination a cruel tormentor until he managed to grasp it, use it to his advantage, afford for himself a quieting, a reprieve from insanity.
For most of his captivity, Brian was housed with a British journalist, John McCarthy. Though both men came from different countries, had dissimilar experiences, and arguably given the unrest in Northern Ireland and the comparative peace in England, could have been at odds with each other, they bonded and relied on each other for companionship and maintenance of sanity. Often times they were kept in confined spaces, cells no larger than the average bathroom, their only provisions a mattress and whatever junk they could squirrel away and turn into games or utensils.
Their basic need for food, clothing, sanitary access, was reliant on the men who held them. Though Brian did not experience torture, in the true physical sense of the word, he was often the victim of his pride and of circumstance, and endured serious beatings, some doled out by a sadistic guard who, plagued by feelings of inadequacy and sexual repression, bolstered his manhood by inflicting pain.
The book is more introspection than action. Brian spends a lot of time thinking things through, his life, his circumstances, the greater worldview and what may be to blame for the present unrest between cultures. He is a smart man, and so is John, so when they are celled together, their conversations were deep, their reliance on each other buffered by elaborate trading of insults. It’s impossible not to care deeply for them all, and at one point they witness the beating and inhumane isolation of an American prisoner, a quiet, gentle man (already suicidal) who the guards suspected as a spy. The cruelty of the treatment and the mental fragility of the victim affects them all deeply. I, the reader, safe in my home with my dog at my side, cried. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever read.
As much as this is a difficult book to review, it is also difficult to rate. I can’t say I enjoyed it, but I read it in one day and couldn’t rest until it was finished. I believe I’m a better, more informed, more empathic person for the experience and for that I am grateful. However, the increased knowledge that this book provides also dislodges an uncertain fear inside of me, the distant threat of terrorism, of disruption to my safe little world. That fear is not only selfish. It enrages my sense of a just right for all human beings, that cruelties such as this can occur. I wish common understanding would resolve it, but there is no reasoning with some people, with their beliefs, their mindsets, and this book evidences that.
Rating: ***** out of five.
Posts
1 comment:
I'm telling you, it is SOO cool that I read the fanfictionized version of this all those years ago and remember it so well today. Lucy Hale, if you're out there, you did one hell of a job. I was fed a history lesson coated in Nsync and LOVED every word.
I really want to read the book. I have a feeling what I already know is just the tip of a very brutal iceberg.
Thanks for sharing!
Post a Comment