Like the author, I too grew up in Scarborough — albeit a decidedly different Scarborough of a decidedly different time. Even 20 to 40 years after the setting of the book, it seems there is much in common with the Scarborough of the past. This part of the city has changed marginally, but stories of violence, poverty, slow urban decay, and rougher communities are commonplace: even in the neighbourhood I grew up in.
I’m not here to talk about my personal life, however. This is a review about Brother, a book set in Scarborough. I think for the most part, the book succeeds in bringing some sense of authenticity in the themes it seeks to express and explore. Dreams and second chances. Poverty and race. There is no questioning how honest the depictions in the book are. These are characters that could have been easily mirrored in the real world, in a place that is as real as the book tries to portray it.
Chariandy’s writing is profoundly accessible, and I think trying to strike a balance between accessibility and still providing nuance, many of the book’s shortfalls become apparent. Like many contemporary novels written and published in the West, Brother is written as a young adult book. There is no inherent crime in writing in this style, but many books like this have shallow stories and dreadfully boring writing. Brother, for its part, does not buck this trend at all. It especially falls victim to events that are easily predictable.
The book plays with non-linearity. I think the implementation of this was somewhere in the middle between questionable and well-done. Reviewers frequently invoke this theme of memory and recollection. For its part, every single detail in the novel was written with almost pinpoint precision, irrespective of the point in time. Not a single detail goes unnoticed - which is especially baffling considering the nearly 10-year gap between the two timelines readers are asked to consider. Every single detail. Memory is unreliable, and people don’t notice everything going on around them. Not in this book, though. Like a child’s first look at non-linear storytelling. Definitely not perfect.
Very close to the end of the book forms some of its most poignant writing. To move on from grief and trauma, and to see the effects of this on community. To flee from truly facing it. At the very end comes an expected conclusion - though I think not a natural one, more one typical of its genre.
This book would probably be best taught in a pre-secondary school classroom.
1.5/5
Written 12 April 2022 Adapted from my review on Goodreads.