The pain of the book lies in the death of Agu's childhood innocence: "I am knowing I am no more child".

Iweala makes a compelling story from experience which in its nature defies articulation: confronted by a child psychologist near the novel's end, Agu does not want to speak; all that remains is silence, and storytelling ceases. Beasts of No Nation unflinchingly exhibits a mind exposed to barbarity, how the consciousness is shaped by its surroundings, how it struggles against being moulded. Iweala is admir-ably faithful to Agu's perceptions, filtering the bloodied world through his viewpoint, dragging the reader into the depths of a mind damaged by violence. The unmodulated stylistic intensity may paradoxically dissipate the novel's overall power, but Uzodinma Iweala's is a confident and promising new voice.