The book review:
This is a rather short, but intriguing novel set in Nairobi. Although Kenya provides the backdrop, the characters and the essence of the plot, the novel is not really about Kenya. Rather, it is about people grappling with their lives and with each other; ultimately in search of some basic truths and meanings. Whether or not they—the characters—really get there remains the fundamental enigma of the story that is not ever fully resolved, even at the end.

The two central protagonists—neither of whom I liked very much—are Anna, a jaded, drunk, international journalist regularly high on the amphetamine of Africa’s suffering: war, death, rebellion, famine, disease. She is a never-explained shallow person who uses alcohol and work to avoid human relationships. Fortunately, (for the novel) Mercy, a large, impressive, loud Kikuyu woman given to outlandish disco clothes and fancy hairdos imposes herself on Anna, first as a servant; later as a friend. Theirs is an unlikely partnership and their clashes of culture and values provide gist for the story. Their relationship grows slowly over time as each begins to gain perspective and an ability to see the other in a less judgmental light.

The horror of journalistic Africa comes home as Anna discovers, via Mercy, the tragedy that AIDS is wreaking in Nairobi’s awful slums. Enter a cynical Italian priest who ministers selflessly to the dying. He, various boyfriends and other journalists, both by their actions and inactions, help Anna plunge the depths of her own misery. Slowly some long-buried ethics emerge. Mercy is a constant fixture goading the narrative along. The plot takes a not unexpected tragic turn, and then gives hope before resolving into more measured reality.

For Kenyaphiles, the Nairobi setting was good. Kenyan English was realistically rendered. Geography only went askew once when Kitale was described as a Kikuyu town about two hours from Nyeri. Swahili was dropped into the dialogue from time to time with only two misspellings minghi and Mzei. The length of the novel required that bit players in the plot be more caricature than real, but this did not significantly detract from the impact of the story.

In summary, this is a fairly terse novel. It is well written and contains some wonderful observations. For example, following the horrors of Nigerian violence, “We took off that night under a full moon, Africa spread like a giant below us. Why this land should be so full of God, I do not know.”

The author also did delve honestly into expatriate servant relations, mostly at the (justified) expense of expatriates, and she certainly took jibes at the lives of international journalists. Mercy was a gripping read, a novel that made a point, yet both the story and the characters lacked the depth that would have made a good novel a great one.