I think what’s so fantastic about this book is that it’s sort of portentous, if that’s the right word, in that it captures that moment between the end of colonisation and independence and the inevitable crushing of Africa’s dreams. I can’t remember exactly when it was written, but it was very early on in the process. It sounds really pessimistic – I mean, it’s a beautifully written book, but it’s the way in which the fate takes over. There was an endemic inevitability about things falling apart, almost through nobody’s fault.