Pigeon English

Stephen Kelman's debut novel Pigeon English is a raw and real look into inner-city London's dark daily life. Narrated by the profound Harrison Opoku - an eleven year old boy recently emigrated from Ghana, Pigeon English reveals the depth of violence and twisted justice which so quickly becomes apparent in the London youth. 

Following the death of a fellow youth and student - a bloody and seemingly meaningless stabbing - Harrison and his friend Derek take on a vague sense of duty an begin investigative reports on the scene. In their simplified childish way, they set up watch, interrogate suspects and look for clues and evidence. 

Though the novel holds aspects of crime scene investigation, it is in no means a Murder Mystery by genre. Instead, through these investigations, Kelman reveals the beauty of a young boys mind, and the simple honesty with which he lives his life. Both gentle and loving in his displays of caring for the pigeon which lands on his balcony one day, Harrison is an expressly loveable character whose affection and protective nature for his little sister Agnes (residing in Ghana with their father) is both inspiring and heart warming. 
"I pretended like all the oranges rolling everywhere were her happy memories and they were looking for a new person to stick to so they didn't get wasted.”

 In contrast,  the youth's desire for destruction, brutality and violence, and Harri's own fascination with the local gang, reveal the intensity of youth and the ease with which they as a society can slip into such immense horror and destruction: "Killa got a screwdriver out of his pant. I saw it with my own two eyes... I could even see the killing thoughts in the air, they were sticking to us like crazy moths after thunder. They wanted to kill us, you could tell." Through these dichotomous emotions Kelman weaves the intricate tapestry of emotions which drive youth culture. 

The voice through which the story is told - most predominantly that of Harri, is honest and real, and often times simple - childish excitability certainly comes though - but with a profound depth and beauty which transcends all age and circumstance. 
His analysis of people, is so childishly simple that it reveals truth so often missed by adult mindsets. In his observation of Mr Frimpong, Harrison reveals the pureness of his heart: 

“Mr. Frimpong is the oldest person from church. That's when I knew why he sings louder than anybody else: it's because he's been waiting the longest for God to answer. He thinks God has forgotten him. I only knew it then. Then I loved him but it was too late to go back.” 

This passage also reveals a reoccurring theme within the novel and specifically within Harrison of a fascination with death. The memory and 'spirit' of "The Dead Boy" permeates and presides over the story, weaving its way in and out of day to day chores, guilty looks, and moments of personal triumph. Harrison is fixated on his memory - a boy he wasn't particularly close with - and continually dedicates his moments of happiness to the boy's memory or spirit. 

In the same way, gang members and bully figures are forever fixed on death and revenge, carving death threats in apartment doors and chanting for blood during street fights. There is an animalistic quality alive in each youth and each person which Kelman carefully explores within the confines of brutal gang culture, forcing it to collide with innocent hearts and pure minds in a violent clash of interaction and emotion.

A turbulent and reflective novel, Pigeon English uses the simplicity of style and heart to pierce the heart of the reader even as it drags them into a world of shockingly hardened young criminals perpetuating the dark inner-city life of London. 
Funny, sickening and triumphant, Stephen Kelman's debut is a fine example of voice and heart in a plot-driven, increasingly sic-fi literary world.