Published in Great Britain in 2020; published by Bloomsbury Publishing on June 29, 2021
Gabriel Krauze tells the story of Gabriel Krauze using the language of the street. Specifically, the language of South Kilburn, a large London housing development that is largely demolished by the time the novel ends. I don’t know how much of Who They Was is autobiography and how much is fiction, but from the standpoint of reading pleasure, the distinction doesn’t matter. Krauze’s voice rings true and his story is unvarnished. Even if some details have been fabricated or changed, the story’s raw power, together with Krauze’s street eloquence, makes Who They Was a compelling read.
The first-person story follows Krauze from the age of 17 through his early adulthood. It is the story of a complicated man, a thug with artistic talent, brains and ambition, who excels both in school and in street crime (incidents to which he refers as “madnesses”). Students and professors who share an academic life with Krauze appear to admire his intelligence and analytical ability. He has an unhealthy passion for Nietzsche, but he reads widely, understands what he reads, and brings insight to his studies. Yet those who admire Krauze at “uni” would likely be appalled by his off-campus life.
On the other hand, Krauze has a plentiful supply of admirers in the neighborhoods where he hangs. He is respected for his audacity and fearlessness. He robs the helpless, stabs his adversaries, and beats people with little provocation. He accepts short stints of incarceration as the price of living his own life. He has no interest in being supervised by the authorities and blows off his community service, leading to more time behind bars. He loves his parents, Polish immigrants who don’t understand Krauze’s failure to conform, but he has no interest in following their rules. He stays in their home on occasion but he’s usually in South Kilburn. He sees his nagging mother as “covered in spikes. Maybe that’s how she survives the world. Maybe that’s how she survives me.”
Krauze narrates a series of incidents, some violent, some sexual, some involving bonding with friends, some involving his studies. Krauze robs innocent people, sells drugs, smokes an impressive amount of weed, and maintains his street cred by punishing anyone who gives him a screwface (dirty look). To many readers, this will seem like the astonishing waste of a life, but Krauze earns his degree so his time is not entirely wasted. As Krauze explains, his lifestyle is “totally accepted” by his peers, “if anything it sets a standard for the young g’s to live up to and you can see it in how the violence becomes the inspiration for everyone’s lyrics when they spit rap and grime bars about bussin guns and murking man.” Who They Was does not come with a glossary, but a few trips to the Urban Dictionary will bring the reader up to speed.
In Krauze’s world, “only money and status matters” and “any act of violence, exploitation, whatever, can’t be unfair because that’s how life works.” At the same time, he feels compelled to attend the university “for the sake of my brain. I knew I’d go mad if I couldn’t read books.” The two halves of Krauze seem inconsistent, not because educated people don’t commit crime — an education doesn’t prevent the educated from preying upon the vulnerable — but because they don’t usually commit violent street crimes.
Despite the insights that education has given him, Krauze shows little interest in living a different life. His girlfriend wants him to get a nine-to-five but he’s “not gonna become a version of me that doesn’t exist.” He explains, “I don’t want to run from the law and feel my heartbeat making me sick. … I want to see fear in people’s eyes and eat my own fear. I want to live dangerously, on the edge of existence.” He justifies his lifestyle by reference to Nietzche’s belief that “morality is just a rule of behaviour relative to the level of danger in which individals live. If you’re living in dangerous times, you can’t afford to live according to moral structures the way that someone who lives in safety and peace can.” Of course, Krauze could make an effort to live in safety and peace, and with a degree he probably could, but he’s convinced that his former life would come back to haunt him, that if he tries to live differently he’ll be dead in a year. That seems unlikely, particularly if he moves away from London, but it’s also pretty clear that he’s an adrenalin junky who doesn’t want a conventional life. “Better to take risks, better to plunge into the fire and feel alive, if only for a moment, than not have really lived at all.” He understands the risk of “living with demons until you become one yourself” but doesn’t seem to fear the possibility that he might cross that line. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.
Krauze might be a sociopath, but he is not without emotion. He makes a point of shutting down his emotions, but he seems to feel genuine love for his parents and friends. He appreciates beauty. He learned to play the piano and enjoys Chopin. His cellmates praise his drawings. He looks at the moon and marvels that everyone on the planet throughout human history has seen the same moon and that all humans are connected by it. He sees life as performative, as not quite real, which might simply be a sign of immaturity.
Who They Was is a fascinating narrative of a complex life. They rhythms of Krause’s language, the creative juxtaposition of slang and academic argot, set the book apart from less inspired stories of hard lives. There is nothing sentimental, nothing artificial, nothing contrived about the way Krause tells his story. A reader can like him or hate him and he just doesn’t care. From a literary standpoint, how the reader feels about Krause is unimportant. His passion, the intensity of his story, and his brutal honesty provide a convincing window into a life that most readers can barely imagine.
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