The Slow Unmaking of a Human Being: My Review of Goat Days by Benyamin

Goat Days by Benyamin is a deceptively simple novel that delivers an unsettling and emotionally exhausting reading experience. Written in accessible language, the book draws you in with its straightforward storytelling, only to confront you with the brutal realities of the lives of migrant labourers — one steeped in isolation and driven by survival.

The novel follows Najeeb, a man who leaves Kerala for Saudi Arabia in search of a better life, only to find himself trapped in conditions that strip him of dignity, identity and eventually, his sense of humanity. The simplicity of the prose mirrors the barrenness of his existence. There are few dialogues, minimal human interaction and an overwhelming sense of silence. This stylistic choice is not accidental; it reflects Najeeb’s profound social isolation, where his only meaningful connections are with the goats he herds.

Cut off from his language, his culture and human companionship, Najeeb begins to blur the boundaries between himself and the animals around him. The act of naming goats after people from his homeland becomes a fragile attempt to hold on to memory and identity. Over time, he begins to feel more understood by the goats than by humans. His eventual self-identification as a goat is not a symbolic exaggeration; it feels like an inevitable outcome of prolonged dehumanisation.

The novel also offers a sharp critique of power structures. The irony that prison feels like an “upgrade” is one of its most haunting insights. What may seem to others like a place of punishment transforms into a space of relative safety and dignity, exposing the extent of suffering Najeeb endured outside it. The contrast between the freedoms of Arab citizens and the statelessness of migrant workers further underscores the systemic inequalities embedded in the world he inhabits.

Faith and resilience run as quiet undercurrents throughout the narrative. Najeeb’s relationship with God is inconsistent—at times accepting, at times frustrated and at times desperately hopeful. This wavering faith feels deeply human, especially in a context where survival itself becomes uncertain.

Certain moments in the book land with devastating force: Hameed being taken away just before his chance at freedom, or the emotional weight of a simple question, 'Where have you been so long, Najeeb?' These instances linger, not because they are dramatic, but because they are painfully understated.

Ultimately, Goat Days is not just a story of suffering, rather a story about what remains when everything else is taken away.