Dec 31

Dec 31 Nervous Conditions (Nervous Conditions, #1)

Author: Tsitsi Dangarembga
Publisher: Seal Press (original 1988)
Goodreads | The StoryGraph

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Note: Trigger warnings are provided for those who need them at the bottom of this page. If you don’t need them and don’t want to risk spoilers, don’t scroll past the full review.

Cover Description

Tambudzai dreams of education, but her hopes only materialise after her brother's death, when she goes to live with her uncle. At his mission school, her critical faculties develop rapidly, bringing her face to face with a new set of conflicts involving her uncle, his education and his family. Tsitsi Dangarembga's quietly devastating first novel offers a portrait of Zimbabwe, where enlightenment brings its own profound dilemmas.

TL;DR Review

Nervous Conditions is a feminist postcolonial novel set in what’s now Zimbabwe. It reads like the classic it is, but with a sharp voice and unforgettable main character.

For you if: You want to learn more about colonial African history and culture.

Full Review

“Nyasha knew nothing about leaving. She had only been taken to places — to the mission, to England, back to the mission. She did not know what essential parts of you stayed behind no matter how violently you tried to dislodge them in order to take them with you.”

Nervous Conditions, Tsitsi Dangarembga’s debut novel published in 1988, is a modern African classic. It takes place during the British colonial rule of Rhodesia in the 1960s (which won its independence and became Zimbabwe in 1980). It’s written from the perspective of Tambudzai (“Tambu”), a fiercely independent and stubborn Shona girl who grew up on her father’s farming homestead before her uncle, who led the local mission school, offers her the chance at education. Over the following few years, she develops a close relationship with her headstrong cousin Nyasha, pursues her education like a bloodhound, and begins to understand more about herself and how the world works.

While the prose is a bit dense and the pace is a little slow — it definitely reads like a classic — I can absolutely see why this book is so acclaimed. Tambu is one of the most vivid narrators I’ve ever encountered, and her voice is unforgettable. She tells the story for herself, not for you, and that makes all the difference. This book is revelatory from a feminist perspective, especially given (but not only because of) the year it was published. Dangarembga’s presentation of patriarchy, colonialism, the duality of identity, tradition and duty, and more is absolutely excellent.