THEFT

Nobel Prize–winning novelist Gurnah delivers a story whose title reverberates throughout.

Raya is a beauty who, having caught the eye of a revolutionary soldier in the colonial Tanzania of the early 1960s, is instead married off quickly to an older man whom she does not love and who “was relentless in his demand for her body.” She finally leaves him, taking her 3-year-old son, Karim, with her. He is mostly an afterthought; as Gurnah writes, somberly, “Karim’s mother treated him like a possession she was fond of but the details of whose welfare she was happy to leave to her parents.” Finding new love, she leaves Karim with them; only two years later is he invited to visit her in her new home in Dar es Salaam. Without much ambition, he finally moves in with Raya and her husband, Haji, to attend university, a household arrangement augmented by the arrival of a young man, Badar, a villager who, though a kinsman of Haji’s, is treated as a servant. Badar is uncomplaining, though he harbors a hatred for the father who abandoned him: “He could not remember when he started to think of him as a shithead,” but the feeling runs deep. An accusation of theft shatters the uneasy peace of the household, unfounded though it is; it will not be the first time that Badar comes under suspicion, although it is the late-blossoming and suddenly career-minded Karim who abuses Badar’s trust—and that’s just the start of it. No word is wasted as Gurnah steadily subverts the good will he has built for Karim and reveals Badar to be less passive than he appears. Unexpectedly, the story even has a happy ending, if only for Badar—and given the trials he’s put through by hapless Western tourists, arrogant aid workers, and his own family, that’s a relief.

A tightly constructed family drama with surprising complications.