Many thanks to Jonathan Ball Publishers for sending me a copy in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.

Part of The Heinemann African Writers Series.

I was looking forward to a "visceral account of a photojournalist's entanglement with a terrorist organisation" but what I got instead was a lot of confusion and a sore head.

At first, I wasn't sure if this was supposed to be, like, a blend of prose and poetry or if the author was trying something new, but I just couldn't determine when the author was internalising or continuing the story; after having used the term "black sunlight" three times in different contexts, it still wasn't clear that this was the name The Resistance.

After reading about a lot of sex, chapter seven starts off with a discussion with a man who is obsessed with defecating and being able to read the future in it - this is where I gave up.

Not every book is for every reader; this one certainly wasn't for me.

DNF