An incredibly interesting and personal take on the social, economic and political climate of Mauritius. Prior to this I hadn't really known much about Mauritius at all. The writing style was concise and engaging.

This book was inciteful, well written and well-crafted. It's both educational and reflective and I definitely recommend it!

"Portrait of an Island on Fire" is a essay collection from a debut author's own experiences growing up on the island of Mauritius, as well as the experience of moving away and returning with new insights.
It provides information about the island of Mauritius to allow necessary context for the author's thoughts and reflections. It conveys this information very well and does not feel excessive. I found this information really useful and interesting, having had no knowledge of the country of Mauritius prior to reading.

The collection contains thirteen essays, all of which are quite short but equally well-crafted and thoughtful, exploring racism, colonialism, politics, culture and many more important themes.

Overall, this essay collection was thought-provoking and revealing, considering important themes that are still relevant and present in today's society and climate. For a debut author, I am highly impressed and interested to see what they do next!

Thank you very much for providing me access to this ARC,

skilfully written, beautiful, and very very illuminating. i knew a bit about mauritius going into this – having read & thoroughly enjoyed the novel riambel last year – but i feel as though i learned a lot from it, which is always lovely. i will definitely keep saramandi in my radar for their future works.

A collection of essays examining racism, colonialism, climate change, and politics in Mauritius.

I really wanted to like this book, but unfortunately, it came across a bit lacking in scrutiny, which it demands so much from elsewhere. For instance, on climate change:

"..The loss of tourism could cost us over $100 million per year by 2060, if nothing is done to save our coastline."

And three short paragraphs later, the author (rightly) criticises the carbon emissions from all the tourists that came there, the air-conditioned rooms, the access to hot water that the locals could only scarcely have, and how these tourists took delight in the crystal-clear lagoon that is a dead zone and was cleared for their pleasure.. And just leave it there. Both are very valid points and reflect such an important tension, but unfortunately, there was nothing more to it. You could feel the anger seemingly directed towards these tourists, but just before the author seemingly highlights the financial loss that could happen with the loss of tourism, so I couldn't help feeling a bit confused..

There were several more pieces like that, that just feel a bit more deserving of more questioning.

Overall, it is still an important book, and I'm glad I could learn about Mauritius.

A brilliantly personal look into a country's past and present. The initial selection of essays cover a wide range of issues and experiences of the island.

The essay regarding abortion rights and the lengths women in Mauritius go to, for hidden abortions is a particularly poignant essay that sticks with me.

Other essays include racism, colourism, misogyny, climate change and tourism, in each essay the author excellently blends her personal experience and anecdotes with comprehensive history and analysis.

The second half discussing political developments in Mauritius, was much longer and in a different style as it falls more into narrative non-fiction it’s a nice change of pace and adds a new dimension to the exploration of Mauritius.

I knew nothing about Mauritius before I picked up this book, and, having read it, I now have a bit more of a sense of this complex and multi-layered society facing a number of significant issues, from climate change to misogyny. The first half or so consists of a series of previously published conceptual essays about a plethora of issues, including abortion rights, racism and colourism engrained into the power structures of Mauritius and the tension between suffering the effects of climate change and building a tourism based economy. The essays offered a perfect blend of personal anecdotes and structural analysis, providing a nuanced portrait of the island (on fire). Ariel Saramandi is very open about her privilege as a light-skinned white passing woman with a British citizenship from a wealthy family, and her comments on the socially conservative figures trying to use her privilege to undermine her progressive stance are illuminating.

The second half of the collection, written, as far as I understand, specifically for this book, changes both in style and content. It offers a chronicle of political developments of Mauritius by following the life and career of the enigmatic Bruneau Laurette, a champion of Creole/Black rights and simultaneously a socially conservative promoter of toxic masculinity and anti-vax narratives. In this story, Ariel the narrator is not a mere observer in the way she constructs her authorial voice in the shorter essays - she is an active participant in the events and an adversary of Laurette. The second half reads like one of those histories of the (English) Civil Wars or the Russian Revolution written immediately after the events by some of the key players. I could imagine myself as a historian researching the subject decades down the line and reading the essay as a narrative primary source. It is fascinating as a document, but not entirely convincing as a piece of narrative non-fiction. Narrative non-fiction still requires mastery of structure and character development, the ability to make the key players distinctly recognisable to the reader, and I am not sure that this longer essay worked well on the craft level. It fails to make a complex narrative accessible to non-specialist, as it keeps introducing new players, be they individuals or organisations, out of the blue without much setup. I wasn't sure if it was meant to be read by Mauritians, who would know who these people are, or foreigners, who don't. In either case, the essay would have benefitted from more analysis and less narrative, because presumably the Mauritian readers would know most of this narrative anyway, and outsiders may find it too confusing and difficult to follow.

Overall, I loved the shorter, more analytical essays, and found the narrative one fascinating but not very engaging.