I really liked this book. It taught me a lot and was filled with a lot of things I didn’t know. I think a lot of people should read this, it’s very important and opened my eyes to so much I didn’t know. I give it a five out five stars.

I had never read anything about Sri Lanka before, I knew nothing of their civil war. This book was a heart wrenching read. The author was so honest in his pain. He experienced hardships on many levels. His family experienced internal discord due to his father bringing a mistress into their home to live, his father was wealthy and focused only on business to the emotional neglect of his children, he experienced life threatening atrocities of war and then all the fears that accompanied him while fleeing his country.

The love of his mother and siblings is what kept him going and believing for a better life. His journey was marked several times by the miraculous kindness of strangers, humble people doing the right thing. But the author himself is the hero of the story. He cared about his own family more than his father did.

I’m grateful to those who encouraged him to write his story. This story was very well written and is worth delving into if you like harrowing tales of this sort. The human spirit is indomitable in the face of evil. I’m thankful he was able to find some peace and healing in the writing of his story.

I received an ARC copy in exchange for my honest opinion.

Sigh.

This was not the book I was hoping or expecting it to be. To be honest, I skimmed quite a few of the chapters because the writing was just so dry. Meh.

As this is a book about someone who is an exile from the homeland he grew up in, I expected more and "assumed" he was a typical Sri Lankan [poor, struggling, etc]. I was so wrong. He grew up wealthy, in a life of privileged [he went to boarding school and did nothing but whine about it], and it was only because of the civil war between the Tamil's [which is the author's ethnicity] and the Sinhalese that he had to leave. Truly, it wasn't until he suffered an atrocity at the hands of some soldiers and then his father lost his shop that he truly started knowing what struggle was. And even then, everything just seemed to be handed to him as he made his way across Europe and finally to Canada where he is now a citizen of [and resides in one of the wealthiest suburbs of Toronto]. The whole tone of the book was full of whine whine whine and was also very passive- aggressive in how he looked at things and how he viewed his family with little regard at how they must have been struggling as well to deal with all that was happening with the war in Sri Lanka. I truly was tired of his condescending tone and whining by the time I got to the end of the book. And the book is very rambling and disjointed, with many of his thoughts and actions not being fully fleshed out. It could have used a lot more editing in my opinion.

Ultimately, I am very disappointed in this book - I was hoping for a real look at Sri Lanka and was left wanting.

Thank you to NetGalley and Dundurn for providing this ARC in exchange for an honest review.

(This review starts out with a little personal story, feel free to skip the first paragraph for the full book review!) I know a few things about Sri Lanka mainly that it’s an island located to the south of India, it used to be named Ceylon, and that there was a long and brutal civil war that went on for decades. I also know that there are two main languages in Sri Lanka: Sinhalese and Tamil. For many years I assumed that Tamil was the main language, due to a project I worked on. It was just after Christmas in 2004, and I worked at a small translation company. One of our clients was the British Red Cross and had asked us to rush the translation of a pamphlet for them into 7 languages, two of which were Tamil and Sinhalese, due to the terrible tsunami that had hit countries around the Indian Ocean. I had no issues finding translators to work on 6 of the languages, but spent hours and hours working with a BBC World Service operator to find a way to get a Sinhalese translation (in the end it involved him dictating the translation over the phone to someone in Sri Lanka who then typed it up and sent it to us). We couldn’t find anyone with a Sinhalese keyboard! So my impression was that Sinhalese was less spoken than Tamil, hence my presumption that it was the main language.

It wasn’t until I read Logathasan Tharmathurai’s memoir The Sadness of Geography that I realized that my knowledge of Sri Lanka left a lot to be desired, and also found out the reasons why it had been so much easier for me to find a Tamil translator that day. And I suggest you read his memoir too, you will leap into a personal story of immigration, hardship, and strength, but also a story of a country that has endured too much, and a country that has an amazing, and very complicated, history.

Logathasan Tharmathurai takes you on the journey of his life, starting with hiding in the rice fields from government soldiers, fearing for his life, going back through his early life, and growing up in a well-off and well-regarded family with a somewhat interesting father character. He also takes you through the beginnings of civil war, of struggles, riots and acts of terrorism, and of his decision to leave the country at the age of 18 and find a way to make a better life for himself and his immediate family.

Logathasan Tharmathurai’s journey from Sri Lanka to Canada, via other countries, is amazing. He manages (with the help of others) to get himself in and out of some pretty dire situations, some of which I think would have made many other people give up. His strength is a gift, so very inspiring, and his story is one that should be read. I learnt so much about Sri Lanka, about the civil war that killed and displaced so many, about the Sinhalese and the Tamil, about the devastation that hate leaves behind, but also about courage, and the ties of family. I remember hearing about Tamil Tigers on the radio as a child, and always imagined warriors dressed in tiger skins in the forests... Logathasan Tharmathurai displays the fierce love, strength, and endurance of several tigers. A must read.

For over three agonizing decades, the island nation of Sri Lanka was mired in an ethnic conflict that led to a wanton spate of massacres, mayhem and melee. This conflict, that pitted the Sri Lankan military against the separatist forces of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Elam (“LTTE) divided Sri Lanka along ethnic lines - pitting the majority Buddhist Sinhalese-dominated government against the minority Tamil speaking population. When the dust finally settled over one of the longest sectarian strife in modern times, the damage wrought was unspeakable. Over 100,000 lives are estimated to have been lost, while the total economic cost of the war was estimated at US$200 billion. The Human Rights Watch also cast allegations of genocide against the Government of Sri Lanka under international law and published the relevant details in December 2009. Leading American expert in international law, Professor Francis A. Boyle held an emergency meeting with U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon to urge to stop Tamil genocide by providing the evidence of crimes against humanity, genocide against Tamils and the international community's failure to stop the slaughter of Tamil civilians in Sri Lanka.

Millions of people were displaced either involuntarily, inevitably or forcibly throughout the tenure of the civil war. One such individual was Logathasan Tharmathurai. Now a resident of Canada, Mr. Tharmathurai was forced to flee his motherland when violence manifested itself at the doorstep of his house. In his evocative work, “The Sadness of Geography”, Mr. Tharmathurai recounts his harrowing experiences both within Sri Lanka and abroad as he attempted, both bravely and foolishly to secure a passage to freedom, both for himself and his family. The son of a respectable businessman plying his wares in the small village of Sangkathaanai in the Jaffna District of the Northern Province. Mr. Tharmathurai let a life of contentment. As he postulates, “when I was growing up our house was by far the largest and most modern in Sangkathaanai. My father was very proud of that and always made sure that he was the first to have any modern convenience. We were the first to have running water and the first to have electricity. My father bought the first automobile in the village.”

However, to say that his father led a queerly Bohemian existence would be putting it mildly – an understatement. In spite of having an extraordinarily devoted woman for a wife, Mr. Tharmathurai’s father commenced to have an affair with his sister-in-law before nonchalantly taking the latter as his second wife and proceeding to have kids with her. Growing up in a predominantly Tamil region, Mr. Tharmathurai was isolated and insulated from communication of any sort with the Sinhalese segment of the population. His blissful existence meant that he was totally in the dark regarding the simmering undercurrents which would soon lead to a full blown war of ideologies. Mr. Tharmathurai’s first taste of the ethnic conflict materialized on the morning of May 31st 1981 when the famous Jaffna Public Library, home to more than ninety-seven thousand books and precious ancient manuscripts containing irreplaceable artifacts of Tamil cultural and historical heritage was set ablaze. At that time, a boarder in the St John’s College in Jaffna, Mr. Tharmathurai and his classmates bravely tried to extinguish the fire but were prevented by an egregious bunch of security forces from carrying out their mission, thereby leaving the Library to burn to its unfortunate ruin.

The most searing and scarring impact of the conflict on Mr. Tharmathurai took place in one of the compartments of a train. On his way to visit his parents from boarding school, Mr. Tharmathurai was accosted by a bunch of Sinhalese soldiers and one of them proceeded to molest him, jeering and making fun of him all along. This nerve racking incident imbued a sense of hatred and anger in Mr. Tharmathurai towards the Sri Lankan military and before long he was recruited as a rebel in the ranks of the LTTE. The recruitment, however proved to a damp squib barring one spine chilling experience, as the new recruit’s job involved distributing pamphlets organizing collections and pasting propaganda posters.

Fed up with the entire scheme of things in his country, Mr. Tharmathurai then seeks to bolt the nation and head to Europe where his older brother Lathy was already stationed – in Paris.
The rest of the book recounts the traumatic experiences of Mr. Tharmathurai travelling on fake and genuine passports, being detained in a refugee camp in Nuremburg and the Rouen prison in France before finally arriving in Canada as an asylum seeker. The travails and tribulations undertaken by Mr. Tharmathurai make for some unsettling reading. From having been duped by an agent promising him a passport and divesting him of Rs. 20,000 (prior to miraculously recovering both his passport and money courtesy a chance encounter with a good Samaritan) that left the young man homeless, hungry and sleeping on a beach for four days in a row to a rough encounter with the guards in the Parisian prison, “The Sadness of Geography” reminisces about the plight of a young man who having his roots uprooted painstakingly tries to find a life.

Mr. Tharmathurai writes in a manner that is candid and unhesitatingly discloses even the most private of details. For instance, the episode of his getting molested in a railway coach is recounted in a simple, telling and matter-of-fact manner that both shocks and startles the reader. Recounting his traumatic time at the Rouen Prison, he writes, “Rouen Prison (also known as the Bonne-Nouvelle Prison) is located in the town of Rouen in the northwest Seine-Maritime district of France. Many years later, I learned that Rouen had been home to Nicolas Cocaign, the cannibal who killed a fellow prisoner and ate one of his lungs. Thankfully this happened years after I was there.”

In the end, Mr. Tharmathurai succeeded in sponsoring his family to Canada (with the exception of his father who died after being shot at by the military trying to make it to India via sea), by engaging in a frenzy of jobs. In his own words, “I would wake up at 7.00 a.m. and go to school. School ended at 3.30 p.m., and I would commute to work by 5.00 p.m. I did my homework during my commute. During the week, I would work eight-hour shifts and get home at about 2.00 a.m. On the weekends I would work fifteen hour shifts, starting at 10.00 a.m. and finishing at 1.00 a.m. the following morning. With overtime, I managed to meet the required income level – just barely – and sponsored my family…”

Unlike a multitude of unfortunates, Mr. Tharmathurai succeeded in all his endeavours, courtesy his intrepid and never-say-die attitude as well as a spate of good fortune.