I didn’t finish it because it freaked me out to read this horror and then realize it was written by an 80 year old Irish lady. The scene where she gave birth was unnecessarily depraved ( )

En bok som drabbar mig. Ett slag i magen. Människors ondska och flickors utsatthet. ( )

It is regrettable that Edna O'Brien's novel Girl does a number of things right and yet still seems largely redundant as literature. I decided to read something from this author after her astute comments in the Ken Burns documentary Hemingway, in which she defended this unfashionable icon from some of the more complacent criticism spaffed his way, and I was pleased to also find this integrity in Girl.

It's rare that a book accepted and fêted in the contemporary literary scene – Girl was longlisted for a number of prizes – retains such independence. I've often lamented the state of modern fiction writing – pretentious, self-indulgent and painfully right-on – which produces only thin gruel and chokes off even the potential for any masterpieces (which would be rare events even in a healthy cultural scene). Girl, on the other hand, while by no means a masterpiece, treads a different path: the path of a legitimate writer.

It is the fictionalized account of one of the schoolgirls kidnapped by Boko Haram in 2014, and the suffering she endures. The depravities narrated in the first part of the book wear on the soul – the gang rapes, the mindless religious violence and, in one particularly gruesome scene, a stoning – but what is interesting about Girl is that O'Brien is confident enough to name her spade a spade when digging into this stuff. She resists the temptation to get dogmatically feminist about the girl's situation, refusing to take the easy, politically-correct but artistically-craven strategy of blaming 'men' as an entity for woman's plight. Instead, she acknowledges the realities of the story ("the moment we heard Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar, we knew" (pg. 1)) and it could be argued that, by the end, the titular girl, and perhaps her culture, are suffering for want of a father. When the girl is rescued (or rescues herself) and struggles to adapt to a society that now believes her unclean, with relatives prescribing kooky witch-doctors to remove her curse, we are reminded that the superstitious, poverty-stricken society she's returning to is not that great either. O'Brien's book is bracingly out-of-kilter with our "all cultures are equal" orthodoxy, even brushing away that odd expectation that writers should "stay in their lane". Girl shows an artist commendably refusing to let others determine her agency.

However, O'Brien, having established her independence, doesn't do much with the actual substance of Girl. You'd expect an Irish writer to revel in the examination of a Christian 'trial of faith', juxtaposed with the more totalitarian brutality of the jihadi groups, but aside from one line on page 48 ("Did God witness what happened and did he write it into his big ledger for the Day of Judgement") this potential narrative kick-up-the-backside is ignored. The titular girl remains a plain, uninspiring vessel. O'Brien writes in her 'Acknowledgements' of "the destiny of women with nowhere to go" (pg. 228), but the directionlessness of a character is extraordinarily difficult to convey, and too often transmutes to purposelessness in the concept.

Girl can be fairly said to be a competent codification of the real-life plight of those who suffered under Boko Haram, channelled into the story of one fictional girl. But as the novel proves to be little more than that, you wonder if more force would not be generated from a non-fiction book comprising of a selection of first-hand accounts, particularly as O'Brien writes her girl's narrative voice in clear imitation of such matter-of-fact reportage. Nor is the book entirely divorced from the irritating trends of modern literature; its foggy structure, disjointed narrative and shifts in tense are, regrettably, easy to align with everything else that is out there right now. Ultimately, Girl is interesting because we watch a writer try to shake herself loose from some of the more stultifying assumptions of contemporary writing culture. Her embrace of agency is commendable, but only makes it harder to admit that the result proves largely redundant as a piece of literature. ( )

I think this could be a terrific read, but right now I'm not going down that rabbit hole, to follow those girls who were kidnapped by Boko Haram. ( )

Captors take Maryam and several friends from their schools to the jungle wilds where the men rape the girls and force them to convert to Islam. Maryam becomes pregnant, giving birth to Babby. When opportunity presents itself in the form of camp bombing, Maryam flees with Babby, eventually returning to her prior home. The author depicts the violence and sympathizes with the girls, but she also presents Maryam as someone with the strength and courage to overcome. In the end, Maryam and Babby find a new life. The novel arose from interviews of survivors of the 2014 Boko Haram kidnappings. Although short, the novel's subject matter makes reading difficult due to the situation's horrors. ( )