At a few points, for maybe thirty or forty pages at a time, Okri's narrative gathers speed and escapes his overdone myth-making and oracular wisdom in favor of genuine story-telling. These reprieves, in concert with my high regard for Ben Okri, are the only reason I was willing to consume the repetitive lessons that constitute this predictable "legend."I recognize that my criticisms of this book only prove that I have not fully absorbed the ideals that it was composed to elevate and that it is a well-intentioned, gentle fiction rejoicing in the triumph of patience, silence, humility, truth and self-sacrifice. But there are ideals in writing as well; and it is not forgivable to tell 80% of your stories from a telescopic remove--as if you have so much to say, that all you can do is summarize the tales that have the most pedagogical value.Sadly, the book lacks grit or any memorable portrayals of the ground-level people in whose honor it was composed. I can't help holding it to the standard set by Okri’s, "The Famished Road," in which succinct and purposeful departures into legend and magic are contrasted harmoniously with memorable details of poverty and African existence."Starbook" sorely needs an anchor, whether in a character that behaves like a real human or in a place that could be inhabited. Instead, the story hovers in an ambiguous place and time: the golden, untouched, natural and spirit-filled Africa that has been written to death in so many works from the continent. This far too convenient and gutless backdrop is populated with characters that live for hundreds of years, characters who are initiated into cosmic brotherhoods or sisterhoods of ultimate wisdom, characters who are erased by their duty to represent particular nodes of Okri's belief system. Is it not obvious that forcing yourself to narrate a story almost entirely about semi-deities with absolute wisdom and knowledge is a trap? Around these monochromatic and unsympathetic super-beings, all Okri can do is scatter evidence of their perceptiveness and unexceptional samples of their wisdom--tiny fables and truisms with little merit. The antagonists are as burdensome as the purity they attempt to destroy. Choose between a council of self-serving elders that scheme against a blameless and fragile prince, a selfish warrior blinded by pride and acquisitiveness and a crudely metaphorical representation of Western Culture's ugly assault on the African people. Oh, and give up on the idea of being propelled by any desire for resolution; from the very beginning, Okri is addicted to obvious prophecies that hold forth empty promises of narrative tension and a grueling account of suffering in the real world. The book never gets down to business; it just spoils its own surprises again and again in an accidental indictment of an omniscience that can't hold its tongue.
I have a love/hate relationship with this book.On the one hand, I am in love with Okri's lyrical style of writing. It's enchanting. I found myself transported soul and body into this mystical world, which is so similar to our own, but has hints of magic, which his style of writing only exaggerates. On the other hand, I felt myself getting bored of the long-winded writing towards the end of the novel. Not that that's Okri's fault however, but my inability to read a book slowly. I can't stress this enough: this is a book to be savoured, and read slowly.On the one hand, I love the characters and their relationships, how perfectly they mirrored each other and were linked. It's another kind of love, one which is often spoken about in fairytales, and one that I yearn for. On the other hand, I felt that they were two of the same character; their experiences were so similar that I felt that I read the same paragraph twice from the point of view of each lover. But perhaps that is a good thing. Again: this is a book to be savoured, and read slowly.I did enjoy this book greatly. It has a sense of magic that a lot of books don't have, even those that touch upon the subjects of fairies and unicorns. It's my own fault that I read it too quickly; I simply was enjoying it too much that I wanted to absorb it all as soon as I could. With most books, you can do this. Starbook, on the other hand, really does need to be read slowly.
What do You think about Starbook (2008)?
I was on a journey with the beautiful Prince and the awkwardly lovely maiden and watched as they come to realization of their love and what it could conquer. But underlining all these are serious issues and bravery. Okri has been able to use language with such poetic essence that I was spell bound and dreamed dreams even with his characters. To understand this book is to share a common experience or to know your history well. Howbeit, there were to loud cry as regarding any issue and you just have to infer which of these dreams (experience) you are either a victim of or an activist in...a beautiful book from a beautiful mind. Totally mesmerizing!
—Adepeju Adepeju
If this had been a novella, sitting somewhere around 30,000 words, it would have been a perfect thing. Some beautiful prose, evocative descriptions, intriguing bits of mysticism and harrowing glimpses of a future life as a slave are the strong points here. The negative would be that I cared not a jot for any character, that there were words, passages and chapters throughout that did nothing for the story, and that repetition of thoughts and narrative were overused. This has taken me the longest amount of time to read of any book this year - no mean feat, especially for a book that's only a few hundred pages. It felt like work at times, a bit dull, and often force fed me meaning: thrusting subtext down my throat without giving me a chance to learn anything for myself. Still, I can see the perfect book within this, and I enjoyed it for that. I met Booker winner Ben Okri at the Edinburgh Book Festival, and thought he was very nice - he also wrote me a lovely message in the book – so maybe my expectations were too high.
—Laura Anderson
I didn't like this book at all. I don't like to write scathingly negative reviews--hey, every author is trying something different, right? So I try to have respect for that. But I can't muster any repect for this at all.Okri uses a faux-fable style to tell the story of a prince and a maiden, who live in a magic kingdom, and fight spirits and have dreams and face portents of all sorts. It's eye-glazingly dull, in part because his style necessitates endless lists; at one point he lists all the different kinds of people who come into the kingdom, and he lists 45 types of people! "...the mad, the merchants, jugglers, pregnant women..." etc. It just goes on and on. This is only one example; they seem to happen on almost every page. Okri seems to think that piling on endlessly with adjectives or noun clauses or whatever will make the story interesting. It doesn't.My other problem is the faux-philosophy, a la: "By giving up what they were looking for, they found it," or some such. This rubbish clutters up the pages where the lists don't. I hate Paolo Coehlo and his five-cent parables masquerading as deep thinking, and Okri often sounds like he's trying to mimic him, which is unfortunate for everybody.What's too bad is that there's a hint of something bigger here--intimations of a pre-slave-trade Africa that was destroyed by the Europeans and lost forever. But instead of being bold and attempting to really show what was really there and really lost, Okri falls into this noble savage magical land trope, which is unconvincing--statues made of light, magic stones, golden herons, unicorns, wise kings, etc--instead of grappling with a reality which would have been far more compelling: mud, malaria, war, exploitation, and yes, some joy, love, humor and nobility too.I never read THE FAMISHED ROAD, which won the Booker in 1991, and is supposed to be pretty good. But man, I could hardly force myself through this thing.
—David Maine
