I can’t describe how I feel about this work however my feelings are not negative. Overall I would say I enjoyed this work. Love the cover as well.

4.5 stars. This terrific and terrifically written book about a fictional, influential and exciting Sudanese musical group called the Kamanga Kings reforming was such a pleasure to read.

When a letter arrives inviting the now disbanded Kamanga Kings to the Kennedy Centre in Washington D.C., hapless English teacher Rushdy’s uncle, one of the Kings, is throw into melancholy (as the group has been defunct for years, due to religious intolerance for their exuberant jazz pieces, and deaths of members, including Rushdy’s dad).

Rushdy’s friend Hisham decides this is a terrific opportunity (mainly for himself), and convinces them to take the offer seriously.

What follows is a feverish attempt to convince former band members to reunite, find new musicians, rehearse and get themselves to their performance, which goes off brilliantly, with encores and people dancing in the aisles.

When their “business manager” steals all their money, Rushdy figures that tracking down the guy themselves makes sense. So much so that all the band agrees, and they’re off on a road trip, ferried by a free-spirited record manager, with the FBI and ICE in pursuit.

What follows is both comical and absurd, with the band travelling crammed into a motorhome, dealing with unfamiliar weather, and Rushdy questioning everything about himself, their motivations in travelling to the US, the complicated mix of religion and politics and nepotism in his part of Sudan, and the islamophobia and racism of the average Americans that they meet on their travels.

I particularly liked Mahjoub’s comment of how people around the world have so many ways to experience US culture, what with movies and the internet, but people within the US have little to no understanding of the countries and cultures, never mind their complexities, outside their borders, except in the broadest, least sophisticated way possible, e.g., people from country X are terrorists.

Jamal Mahjoub’s characters are flawed, drifting and hoping for something better, and the journey through the US crystallizes many of their desires, identities and understanding of home. It’s a wonderful book.

Thank you to Netgalley and to Canongate for this ARC in exchange for my review.

"Great music transcends all barriers."

But does it really?

When you come from a country that is listed as a Sponsor of Terrorism in Trump-era America. When prejudices are cultivated against your skin colour, your ethnicity, your origin; does your music matter then? Your art? Your history? Or YOU for that matter?

Boy, this book hit close to home!

Funny, delightful and heart breaking, this is a story about music, passion and the revival of shattered dreams. The narrative follows the Kamanga Kings, a defunct Sudanese music band, in their attempt to reform in order to answer an invitation to play once more for an American audience in Washington DC. The band used to play back in the heyday of Sudanese independence, but now AlBashir has banned music and Musicians have become an endangered species. Sadly for the band, not only was their reformation a risky business at home, but also arriving in America at the height of an unfairly enforced travel ban poses its own risks abroad. One fake call and the band members find themselves on the run.

Handled with a handsome dose of comedy, the book depicts the idiosyncrasies of Sudanese culture and its intermingle with current day politics. Mahjoub simply portrayed reality by means of the absurd, explaining what it is like to be a Sudanese musician in today's Sudan and to the West, capturing feelings that are way realistic and all too familiar by employing a sense of humour. The book is primarily political: it explores the dark themes of racism, oppression and Islamophobia, but it was never heavy handed in its execution. Not to mention that this is a book that justly calls for our right to tell our own stories, and how African history— and consequently, African stories—has been always overshadowed by the West's attempt to put its own history on a pedestal to the exclusion of all else, first through imperialism and now through CAPITAL imperialism.

Read this gem, for instance:

"' What I'm trying to say, Waldo, is that by acquiring knowledge of you, of America, we inherited the sense that we are lacking in a fundamental way. Our history is lost in the dust, while yours is written in neon lights.'"

Yes, until this very day, storytelling remains a one way street to the west. Most books about Africa and Asia are narrated through a white gaze. So very few books are acquired that authentically represent us, the Africans. Especially so when you compare the numbers of African/Asian authors to what is being mass produced as literature. And even those authors must establish a tie to the west somehow in order to make a story heard.

So grateful for the chance to review this gorgeous book from Canongate and NetGalley. I can tell this will be one of my favourite reads this year.

P.S. You'll be missing out on a lot of fun if you don't pick up this book.

The Fugitives opens in late-2010s Sudan. Rushdy is an English teacher who feels that he lives in the shadow of his late father, one of the founding members of a popular jazz band called the Kamanga Kings. Rushdy’s Uncle Maher (his mother’s brother) was another founding member of the band. Although the Kamanga Kings have been inactive for decades now – and indeed, several of the members are dead and the rest are getting old – Rushdy and his uncle are surprised when they get an exciting invitation one day. The Kamanga Kings are invited to perform in Washington, D.C. at a special music festival. With some encouragement from Rushdy and his best friend Hisham, the Kamanga Kings reform with old members and new ones. This Sudanese jazz band is determined to play at that American festival.

The first thing that drew me to The Fugitives is that it’s about a jazz band. Other than books and reading, my other big passion is music, and I always love reading novels that are about music in some way. Early on, The Fugitives includes some beautiful portrayals of music and of a love of music. Rushdy describes how important music is to him and his family; he describes the different influences that informed the Kamanga Kings’ unique sound. As a music lover myself, I could identify with Rushdy’s appreciation of songs, instruments, and performance.

I admit that I’m not very familiar Sudanese music, nor African music more generally. The only African artist I listen to much is K’naan from Somalia. So for me it was a treat to learn more about Sudanese music and the different sounds that make it up. It inspires me to seek out music from different artists around the continent. However, from a political standpoint, The Fugitives also provides some interesting information surrounding music’s place in Sudan. Music has a history of enlightening people and inspiring progress, and it’s fascinating to learn how music has been considered dangerous by Sudan’s government.

Beyond my passions for books and music, I also love travel – though that can be quite expensive and difficult, especially in a pandemic. And so armchair travel is invaluable. Here, readers get a glimpse into what Sudan is like, particularly its culture. I loved the chance to learn more about Sudan, its recent political history, its geography, and its people.

Though The Fugitives starts off in Sudan, most of the book is actually set in the United States. I enjoyed getting to see America through a traveler’s eyes and seeing the different instances of culture shock or just confusion at Americans’ ways. As a person who has lived abroad and is married to a man from another country, I’m familiar with some judgments people around the world have about Americans. For example, many think we smile too much or that our friendliness seems odd. We get some of that perspective in this novel, and I found it to be fun and charming.

However, The Fugitives also doesn’t shy away from tougher and more serious themes. The book is set during Trump’s administration and his horrible Muslim travel ban. As you might recall, Sudan was on the list of banned countries. This novel offers perspectives on immigration, asylum, refugees, the travel ban, and the way Americans think about foreigners. These Sudanese musicians have to fight stereotypes that they’re terrorists or trying to stay in the United States illegally. It’s not heavy-handed, but I found that The Fugitives offers some valuable discourse on these important topics.

Early on, it seems that The Fugitives has a clear story arc plotted out; surprisingly, about halfway through, the story goes in another direction. At times it feels a bit meandering, but ultimately I love how it comes together by the end. Without getting into spoilers, it ties together music with bigger themes in a climatic way that I found inspiring.

The Fugitives is a wonderfully written, musical, and thought-provoking novel that crosses Sudanese and American cultures. It’s charming and fun, a little bit adventurous, and filled with heart. I will be recommending it to everyone I know.

A delightful surprise, The Kamanga Kings, a Sudanese jazz band, has fallen into disarray thanks to old age and political repression so when an invitation from the Kennedy Center arrives, well, what to do. Rushdy, son of one of the founders, decides they must reconstitute in some form and go to the US. They manage to make it through immigration (a miracle in and of itself) but then find themselves ripped off and in trouble with the law, It's both humorous and sad in one but it's also a very good read I likely would not have picked up had it not been on Netgalley (thanks to them). Definitely a good read.

Despite its serious sounding title, Jamal Mahjoub’s The Fugitives is an uplifting and delightful romp about the Kamanga Kings, a legendary Sudanese jazz band. When elderly Uncle Maher receives a mysterious letter from the United States, he asks his nephew Rushdy to translate. As Rushdy deciphers the strange letter, he slowly realizes that it is an invitation to the Kamanga Kings to perform at Washington, D. C.’s The Kennedy Center. There is one big problem. Decades earlier, Sudan’s then conservative Islamic government had banned the Kamanga Kings, just as it had banned all music, literature, and art that threatened the government’s power by stirring the people’s souls. Most of the Kamanga Kings are long dead.

Without the Kamanga Kings, Jamal Majoub would have no novel. Rushdy would have no story to tell, for the novel is presented as English teacher Rushdy’s account of his troubling musical heritage. “When my father died,” he writes, “he left me two things: a rather battered trumpet and the legend of the Kamanga Kings. . . . Like all legends, that of the Kamanga Kings was a blessing and a curse. Their exploits were woven into the fabric of my life.”

Following a brief introduction, Rushdy tells his story in three parts. “Part I: Raising the Dead” centers on the reforming of the band from two aged original members and five new ones, including Rushdy on his father’s trumpet. “Part II: The Kamaga Kings Fly!” spans the band’s travel to the U.S. through its performance of a lifetime at the Kennedy Center. “Part III: The Fugitives,” gives the book its title as the band flees Homeland Securities and ICE.

This is the story of Uncle Maher and Alkanary, of Hisham, Wad Mazaj, John Wau, and Kadugli. It is the story of people the band unexpectedly encounters along the way, such as the fly-by-night record producer Waldo and the Latino hotel caretaker Rudy, whom the band saves and who saves the band. Perhaps most of all, it’s the story of Rushdy, who must come to terms with his heritage and find his future.

Thanks to NetGalley and Canongate for an advance reader copy of this highly recommended book. Although it is my first for 2022, it is sure to be one of my most enjoyed.

Sometimes a book comes along that is so good that I am dumbstruck when I discover how few reviews it has had - and presumably that equates to far too few readers. Such is the case with The Fugitives. Published back in April 2021, at the time of this review (Dec 2021) there are only 4 reviews on Goodreads and none on Amazon. So I urge everyone to hunt out and enjoy this wonderfully inventive and original novel that will make you laugh and despair in equal measure. For although it is a humorous and often light-hearted tale it deals with some dark themes and issues and the serious is never far from the surface levity. It tells the story of the Kamanga Kings, a legendary Sudanese band whose days were numbered when the new political regime under President Bashir banned music. So it is a surprise indeed when out of the blue an invitation arrives asking the now defunct band to come to Washington DC to perform. Rushdy, our narrator, a discontented and disillusioned teacher, the son of one of the original line-up, sees this unexpected invitation as an opportunity not to be missed and in short order has managed to reform the Kings and they are on their way. What follows is a sometimes almost farcical, but never quite, (well, maybe on occasion…) and picaresque, but not ridiculous, adventure for the band in the US, a post-9/11 America when distrust of foreigners is endemic and Trump’s anti-immigrant presidency is in full flow. So can music trump (sorry) ignorance and prejudice? Can the new Kamanga Kings live up to the reputation of the original band? Can this group of skilled musicians win over their public? This is a delightful book, well-written, well-paced, full of humanity and generosity, politically hard-hitting when it needs to be but never heavy-handed - and there’s even a playlist on Spotify. Read it – please.

A defunct Sudanese band reforms for one last jam in the United States and ends up going on a wild road trip.