Little Bee by Chris Cleave After two years being held in a British detention center, Nigerian refugee Little Bee goes to the only people in England she knows: Andrew O’Rourke and his wife, Sarah Summers. They actually met two years before, on a beach back in her homeland, and they are the only ones who can help her now. Unbeknownst to Little Bee, however, is that Andrew and Sarah have actually spent the past two years willfully trying to forget the traumatic event that occurred on that beach, and to wipe their hands free of it-for good. But when Little Bee suddenly shows up on their doorstep, ignoring Little Bee is no longer an option they can afford.
Little Bee surprised me, in many ways. Since I received a free copy, I really had no idea what to expect other than having a vague idea that it was a “book clubby” type of book; the jacket blurb was no help, either: “We don’t want to tell you what happens in this book. It is truly a special story and we don’t want to spoil it.” (Insert quizzical look here.) After reading it though, I think Little Bee is an exquisitely crafted book, with intricate plotting, and flawed yet endearing characters.
The two narrative voices are one of Little Bee’s greatest strengths. Told from both Little Bee and Sarah’s perspective, the two narratives weave and dance around each other, telling events from their different viewpoints and leaving you to piece together what really happened in Nigeria. With skill and precision, Chris Cleave builds up the tension and suspense, so that the questions pile up as you read along: what really happened in Nigeria? What happened to Little Bee? What went wrong between Sarah and Andrew? Past events intrude upon the characters’ present lives, and at times even as a reader it’s difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins.
In addition, the characters are genuine and complicated-they’re the kind whose voices stay in your head long after you’ve finished reading their respective chapters. Little Bee has this memorably ironic, dry voice, one that comments on the idiosyncrasies of being a refugee in a first-world country like the U.K. You come to admire her grit and tenacity, but in some moments-like when she’s playing with Sarah’s son Charlie, who hilariously won’t ever take off his Batman costume-you’re reminded that she’s still a very young girl at 16. Sarah is one of those characters who is borderline unlikeable: at times she’s self-absorbed and wrapped up in her own mid-life crisis, but other times she’s determined to help out Little Bee.
Little Bee takes on heady, timely topics, but it raises questions in a subtle, nuanced manner. Questions like: to what extent can you deny the existence of refugees? When do “illegal immigrants” become people, instead of being just a “drain on resources”? How do you begin to define who belongs in a country, and who doesn’t? What counts as charity, and should there be any limits? I particularly loved the metaphors with currency and language Cleave uses to get such questions across. Beautifully told, Little Bee is one of those rare gems that gives a human face to a global issue.
Check out the neat author video
here.