However, these are minor quibbles, and for a debut novelist to be able to tackle a country’s history with such an unflinching and confident gaze is, frankly, astonishing. In comparison to the gruelling build-up, certain strands conclude far too squeakily clean. Sintu’s story, while initially steeped in intrigue through the ghostly sister, never generates the same energy as the other characters. Some sections of the novel are less engaging than others. The prose is smoky crisp, and the book’s setting, be it the barren landscape of o Lwera or the bustling market in Nakaseke Town, is vividly conjured. Makumbi, a natural storyteller, is skilful at subverting our expectations of characters, and each book is propelled by a teasing sense of mystery. Rather, Kintu is a novel that thrives on its compassionate investigation of the individual within the boundaries of an epic, within the boundaries of a nation’s rapidly changing identity. It is an epic that doesn’t ignore character for scope. But unlike so many donnish generational novels, Kintu is an entertaining, engrossing, and, crucially, intimate read.
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