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3.36 AVERAGE
3.36 AVERAGE
3,5 ⭐️
In Harare, Simbabwes Hauptstadt, wohnt Tambuzai in einem heruntergekommenen Hostel und eigentlich hat sie gedacht, es geschafft zu haben. Sie hat ihren Abschluss an einer hauptsächlich von weißen Schülerinnen besuchten Schule erreicht, aber trotz allem Fortschritt fürchtet sie nun doch um ihre Zukunft. Das Leben, welches sie sich erträumt hat, scheint unerreichbar. Jedes Mal, wenn Tambuzai versucht wieder auf die Beine zu kommen, stößt sie irgendetwas nieder. Mit einem vielversprechenden Jobangebot sieht sie endlich Licht am Ende des Tunnels, doch schnell stellt sie fest, dass auch hier nicht alle ihr Wohl im Sinn haben…
Wer die Frankfurter Buchmesse verfolgt hat, der wird auch an Tsitsi Dangarembga nicht vorbeigekommen sein. Die Autorin wurde in diesem Jahr mit dem Friedenspreis des Deutschen Buchhandels ausgezeichnet und auch im letzten Jahr war ihr Buch „Überleben“ (englisch: „This Mournable Body“) auf der Shortlist des Booker Prize 2020. Umso gespannter war ich nun auf diesen Roman. Es handelt sich hierbei um den letzten Teil einer Trilogie und dadurch, dass man zu Beginn der Geschichte schon mitten im Geschehen steckt, brauchte ich eine Weile um mich in die Erzählung einzufinden. Auch die Erzählform machte es mir nicht leichter, denn Tsitsi Dangarembga schildert Tambuzais Leben komplett aus der Du-Perspektive. „Du machst dir nicht die Mühe, deine Stimme zu einem Fragezeichen zu heben. Warum solltest du irgendwo ein Fragezeichen anbringen?“ (S. 36) Diese Schreibweise machte es mir schwer mich tatsächlich auf das Buch einzulassen und obwohl die Geschichte wirklich tragisch und mitreißend ist, brauchte ich immer erst ein paar Seiten um wieder Zugang dazu zu finden. Erschrocken hat mich das Buch dennoch in jedem Fall. Tambuzai ist eine beeindruckend gezeichnete Protagonistin, die ihren Weg im postkoloniale Simbabwe sucht und sich täglich mit Rassismus, Klassismus und Sexismus konfrontiert sieht.
„Überleben“ hat definitiv meinen Horizont hinsichtlich Simbabwe erweitert und ich bin sehr froh, dass der Orlandaverlag die Trilogie in das Programm aufgenommen hat. Auch wenn mir die Perspektive nicht so zugesagt hat, würde ich auf jeden Fall auch dem 1. und 2. Teil eine Chance geben wollen.
In Harare, Simbabwes Hauptstadt, wohnt Tambuzai in einem heruntergekommenen Hostel und eigentlich hat sie gedacht, es geschafft zu haben. Sie hat ihren Abschluss an einer hauptsächlich von weißen Schülerinnen besuchten Schule erreicht, aber trotz allem Fortschritt fürchtet sie nun doch um ihre Zukunft. Das Leben, welches sie sich erträumt hat, scheint unerreichbar. Jedes Mal, wenn Tambuzai versucht wieder auf die Beine zu kommen, stößt sie irgendetwas nieder. Mit einem vielversprechenden Jobangebot sieht sie endlich Licht am Ende des Tunnels, doch schnell stellt sie fest, dass auch hier nicht alle ihr Wohl im Sinn haben…
Wer die Frankfurter Buchmesse verfolgt hat, der wird auch an Tsitsi Dangarembga nicht vorbeigekommen sein. Die Autorin wurde in diesem Jahr mit dem Friedenspreis des Deutschen Buchhandels ausgezeichnet und auch im letzten Jahr war ihr Buch „Überleben“ (englisch: „This Mournable Body“) auf der Shortlist des Booker Prize 2020. Umso gespannter war ich nun auf diesen Roman. Es handelt sich hierbei um den letzten Teil einer Trilogie und dadurch, dass man zu Beginn der Geschichte schon mitten im Geschehen steckt, brauchte ich eine Weile um mich in die Erzählung einzufinden. Auch die Erzählform machte es mir nicht leichter, denn Tsitsi Dangarembga schildert Tambuzais Leben komplett aus der Du-Perspektive. „Du machst dir nicht die Mühe, deine Stimme zu einem Fragezeichen zu heben. Warum solltest du irgendwo ein Fragezeichen anbringen?“ (S. 36) Diese Schreibweise machte es mir schwer mich tatsächlich auf das Buch einzulassen und obwohl die Geschichte wirklich tragisch und mitreißend ist, brauchte ich immer erst ein paar Seiten um wieder Zugang dazu zu finden. Erschrocken hat mich das Buch dennoch in jedem Fall. Tambuzai ist eine beeindruckend gezeichnete Protagonistin, die ihren Weg im postkoloniale Simbabwe sucht und sich täglich mit Rassismus, Klassismus und Sexismus konfrontiert sieht.
„Überleben“ hat definitiv meinen Horizont hinsichtlich Simbabwe erweitert und ich bin sehr froh, dass der Orlandaverlag die Trilogie in das Programm aufgenommen hat. Auch wenn mir die Perspektive nicht so zugesagt hat, würde ich auf jeden Fall auch dem 1. und 2. Teil eine Chance geben wollen.
I didn't realise this is the 3rd in a trilogy when I picked it up, but I think it stands alone OK.
This is a good read by a very skilled writer, who keeps you rooting for a character who is complicated, worthy and not always pleasant. I felt I would have got more from the book if I had a more detailed knowledge -beyond the bare bones- of Zimbabwean history. Dangarembga also writes in the second person throughout; I thought this was off-putting at first but she has the skill to make it work.
This is a good read by a very skilled writer, who keeps you rooting for a character who is complicated, worthy and not always pleasant. I felt I would have got more from the book if I had a more detailed knowledge -beyond the bare bones- of Zimbabwean history. Dangarembga also writes in the second person throughout; I thought this was off-putting at first but she has the skill to make it work.
medium-paced
A poetic, sometimes devastating but inspiring story about a young woman trying to make it in 21st century Zimbabwe, a story meandering between despair, hope and dreams of a better future.
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
I am very grateful to have read all three books in this series. Though this final part does a good job of eliciting back to the previous parts enough that one wouldn't necessarily have to have read them both, the first book- Nervous Conditions- was absolutely my favorite of the three. I found the second, The Book of Not, quite hard to read and almost didn't keep going with the series but this final chapter, This Mournable Body, does a good job of completing the circle and finishing the story of Tambudsai's journey from child into adult. Whereas I found the first novel quite hard to put down, the latter two were much harder to get into and the reader finds themselves with an ever more complicated view of Tambudsai. We are both rooting for her and frustrated with her choices, both understanding of her perspectives considering the racism, colonialism and sexism she has endured- yet disheartened with her inability to be a bit less selfish... The three are very powerful novels, they very much feel like acts of activism in themselves. They force the reader to confront their own biases and ignorances and I suppose that is exactly what great literature should do.
I was simultaneously reading two novels(this one and Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982) which could both easily be labeled as feminist literature and was struck by the fact that they described so many issues and situations very much the same despite being from two totally different countries & cultures (Korea & Zimbabwe). It is overwhelming how universal these feminist issues are to any female-identifying reader worldwide.
I was simultaneously reading two novels(this one and Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982) which could both easily be labeled as feminist literature and was struck by the fact that they described so many issues and situations very much the same despite being from two totally different countries & cultures (Korea & Zimbabwe). It is overwhelming how universal these feminist issues are to any female-identifying reader worldwide.
In 2004, I met a woman whose impact on my life has proven immeasurable beyond belief. Not long after I met Gay, she was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease, and I watched as she began to lose control over her muscles. One of the first things to go was her voice; she walked the halls with a dry erase board around her neck. I’d sit cross-legged at her feet, stacks of books surrounding us, and we’d talk in our disjointed way. In class, she’d use my voice. I can still feel her hand squeezing mine and see her nod in my direction – “You tell it.” In early 2006, she went to her Belizean home to die.
I miss her – never more so than when I read a book like Tsitsi Dangarembga’s This Mournable Body (2018). Gay put Nervous Conditions (1988) in my hands, and the continued story of Tambudzai was bound to bring her to mind. I wish I could talk to her about it. To sit cross-legged at her feet. To listen. To learn. To love. I guess I will have to “tell it” on my own.
Tsitsi Dangarembga is well-deserving of being on the 2020 Booker Prize shortlist. This Mournable Body continues many of the themes found in Nervous Conditions, and it showcases how little has changed in Zimbabwe. In my reaction to Nervous Conditions, I wrote:
“Dangarembga’s women deserve a little respect for the fight they are waging against a patriarchal society that denies them education, freedom, and happiness. Hybridity creates for a nervous condition, but so does being a woman in a world of men.”
Decades later, the sentiment is the same as this novel continues to explore the interplay of gender, race, and class, with a prominent focus on the women.
Tambu is highly educated, but she has to fight tooth and nail for each rung she climbs toward her success. Her ideas are discredited and later stolen by white and/or male coworkers. She knows it’s a dog eat dog world, and she will do anything to untether her past and succeed. An early scene in the novel has her preparing to join a mob stoning a young woman whom she knows. The attack is prompted by the young woman’s age and attire. She ends up not only humiliated, but seriously injured. Tambu is only the slightest bit remorseful.
Tambu ends up renting a room at a widow’s home. She thinks she will have to marry one of the widow’s sons if she is to succeed, but she manages to get her feet back under her and secures a position teaching biology. But the unruly teenagers, so flagrant with their transgressions, are enough to drive her mad. Tambu has a nervous breakdown while teaching, and nearly kills a student. Having proven herself a threat to others, she is committed to a psychiatric ward.
Upon her release, Tambu moves in with her cousin Nyasha, my favorite character in Nervous Conditions. Nyasha still straddles the worlds that caused that nervous condition of her youth, having even married a white man, but she knows who she is and what she is fighting for. Unlike Tambu, she’d rather lift up her sisters than step on their necks to advance herself.
The tides turn for Tambu and she finds herself in another well-paying position in ecotourism. When she leaves Nyasha to begin her new life, a horrific scene is unfolding. But Tambu has no time to be bothered with the dead baby and bloodied help; Avondale awaits. Success awaits.
Tambu is good at her job, but there is a constant pressure to bring new ideas to the table. She suggests bringing tourists to the villages. To her village. It is only on the heels of this idea that she returns to the village she had once called home; she has to get her mother on board to help sell the idea. It’s a new low, even for Tambu; she’s willing to sell her family, heritage, and traditions for the right price.
Tsitsi Dangarembga’s title for this novel was inspired by Teju Cole’s 2015 essay in the New Yorker, titled “Unmournable Bodies.” That essay deals with the disparities in how the world mourns the loss of different lives based on race, gender, national origin, and social class. Tsitsi Dangarembga’s title sends its own social and political message: the women of Zimbabwe are important, valued, worthy. They are mournable.
It’s a brilliant, raw novel full of bitterness and resentment. It’s beautiful.
I miss her – never more so than when I read a book like Tsitsi Dangarembga’s This Mournable Body (2018). Gay put Nervous Conditions (1988) in my hands, and the continued story of Tambudzai was bound to bring her to mind. I wish I could talk to her about it. To sit cross-legged at her feet. To listen. To learn. To love. I guess I will have to “tell it” on my own.
Tsitsi Dangarembga is well-deserving of being on the 2020 Booker Prize shortlist. This Mournable Body continues many of the themes found in Nervous Conditions, and it showcases how little has changed in Zimbabwe. In my reaction to Nervous Conditions, I wrote:
“Dangarembga’s women deserve a little respect for the fight they are waging against a patriarchal society that denies them education, freedom, and happiness. Hybridity creates for a nervous condition, but so does being a woman in a world of men.”
Decades later, the sentiment is the same as this novel continues to explore the interplay of gender, race, and class, with a prominent focus on the women.
Tambu is highly educated, but she has to fight tooth and nail for each rung she climbs toward her success. Her ideas are discredited and later stolen by white and/or male coworkers. She knows it’s a dog eat dog world, and she will do anything to untether her past and succeed. An early scene in the novel has her preparing to join a mob stoning a young woman whom she knows. The attack is prompted by the young woman’s age and attire. She ends up not only humiliated, but seriously injured. Tambu is only the slightest bit remorseful.
Tambu ends up renting a room at a widow’s home. She thinks she will have to marry one of the widow’s sons if she is to succeed, but she manages to get her feet back under her and secures a position teaching biology. But the unruly teenagers, so flagrant with their transgressions, are enough to drive her mad. Tambu has a nervous breakdown while teaching, and nearly kills a student. Having proven herself a threat to others, she is committed to a psychiatric ward.
Upon her release, Tambu moves in with her cousin Nyasha, my favorite character in Nervous Conditions. Nyasha still straddles the worlds that caused that nervous condition of her youth, having even married a white man, but she knows who she is and what she is fighting for. Unlike Tambu, she’d rather lift up her sisters than step on their necks to advance herself.
The tides turn for Tambu and she finds herself in another well-paying position in ecotourism. When she leaves Nyasha to begin her new life, a horrific scene is unfolding. But Tambu has no time to be bothered with the dead baby and bloodied help; Avondale awaits. Success awaits.
Tambu is good at her job, but there is a constant pressure to bring new ideas to the table. She suggests bringing tourists to the villages. To her village. It is only on the heels of this idea that she returns to the village she had once called home; she has to get her mother on board to help sell the idea. It’s a new low, even for Tambu; she’s willing to sell her family, heritage, and traditions for the right price.
Tsitsi Dangarembga’s title for this novel was inspired by Teju Cole’s 2015 essay in the New Yorker, titled “Unmournable Bodies.” That essay deals with the disparities in how the world mourns the loss of different lives based on race, gender, national origin, and social class. Tsitsi Dangarembga’s title sends its own social and political message: the women of Zimbabwe are important, valued, worthy. They are mournable.
It’s a brilliant, raw novel full of bitterness and resentment. It’s beautiful.
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Content Warnings
Graphic: Domestic abuse, Sexual assault
challenging
emotional
reflective
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes