The Book of Not

Nervous Conditions #2

by Tsitsi Dangarembga

As Zimbabwe emerges into independence, Tambudzai Sigauke embarks on her second year at the Young Ladies' College of the Sacred Heart. Determined to excel, Tambu exhausts herself with her efforts to climb to the top of the school's honour rolls. The further she pushes herself, however, the farther she feels from any reward; and the roots of colonialism threaten to trip her at every step. The sequel to Nervous Conditions is as moving, darkly witty, and riveting as its predecessor.

Genres: Fiction, Africa, Zimbabwe, Historical Fiction, African Literature, Literary Fiction, Coming Of Age

320 pages, Paperback

First published December 19, 2006

About the author

Spent part of her childhood in England. She began her education there, but concluded her A-levels in a missionary school back home, in the town of Mutare. She later studied medicine at Cambridge University, but became homesick and returned home as Zimbabwe's black-majority rule began in 1980.

She took up psychology at the University of Zimbabwe, of whose drama group she was a member. She also held down a two-year job as a copywriter at a marketing agency. This early writing experience gave her an avenue for expression: she wrote numerous plays, such as The Lost of the Soil, and then joined the theatre group Zambuko, and participated in the production of two plays, Katshaa and Mavambo.

In 1985, Dangarembga published a short story in Sweden called The Letter. In 1987, she also published the play She Does Not Weep in Harare. At the age of twenty-five, she had her first taste of success with her novel Nervous Conditions. The first in English ever written by a black Zimbabwean woman, it won the African section of the Commonwealth Writers Prize in 1989. Asked about her subsequent prose drought, she explained, "There have been two major reasons for my not having worked on prose since Nervous Conditions: firstly, the novel was published only after I had turned to film as a medium; secondly, Virginia Woolf's shrewd observation that a woman needs £500 and a room of her own in order to write is entirely valid. Incidentally, I am moving and hope that, for the first time since Nervous Conditions, I shall have a room of my own. I'll try to ignore the bit about £500."

Dangarembga continued her education later in Berlin at the Deutsche Film und Fernseh Akademie, where she studied film direction and produced several film productions, including a documentary for German television. She also made the film Everyone's Child, shown worldwide including at the Jameson Dublin International Film Festival.

Reviews

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had the pleasure to put some questions to the author on BBC Radio 4 Front Row in October. The recording covers my question on the first line of her latest novel (at 17:20-19:05).

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000...

I’d memorise everything for O-Level, there was no problem. The cup, the one for the best O-level results, I promised myself I would have it, and my name would be inscribed on it for everyone for ever to see: Tambudzai Siaguke. The people would know who I was, a person to be reckoned with and respected, not a receptacle of contempt like the gardener, maids, cook boys and terrorists.

I read this book due to it being the second of a trilogy, the third of which “This Mournable Body” which is now shortlisted for the 2020 Booker Prize.

With the first part of the trilogy (one I must admit I had not heard of) “Nervous Conditions” regarded as a classic of African literature and a common feature on English literature courses, it does feel something like “The Book of Not” is the rather unheralded member of the trilogy – with only 3% of the Goodreads reviews of the first book (and already close to being outstripped by the third). A number of media reviews of the third book seem to ignore “The Book of Not”’s existence altogether (for example: https://www.theguardian.com/books/202... even one of the Booker judges when discussing the book said he had met Dangarembga many years ago when she published the first book but then implied he had only recently found out the series was actually a trilogy.

If I am being honest this book does seem far less of a classic than “Nervous Conditions” but for those who enjoyed that book I think it is a very necessary follow up and, more so, I do not see how one can even begin to appreciate “This Mournable Body” without it – but as I guess many readers will do exactly that I have tried to give an overview of the book in this review.

The book starts with a scene that is shocking both in absolute terms and to readers of the first novel.

The opening sentence is “Up, up, up, the leg spun” as Tambu watches, with an odd sense of detachment, the aftermath of a girl stepping on a land mine.

In the first novel we see Tambu’s sister Netsai as “a sweet child, the type that will make a sweet, sad wife”: in this novel she is indeed a wife, but of a guerrilla leader and the leg belongs to her. Also in the first novel we see Tambu’s Uncle Babamukuru as a much respected paternalistic and patriarchal figure whose relative success obliges him to care for and manage his extended family. Here the explosion happens as the guerilla leader comes to halt a public punishment beating of Babamukuru (just before he is killed) – the beating ordered for him being too sympathetic to the Rhodesian army, the prime evidence for which (as Tambu only really seems to appreciate much later) being him supporting Tambu to go a prestigious white college against her mother’s wishes. One thing that is not a surprise to readers of the first novel is the person who reports him.

Most of the rest of the novel sets out Tambu’s time at the prestigious convent school where she is one of the maximum quota of “African” girls that are allowed.

If I am being critical at times the book can read at times like “Mallory Towers” albeit with added racist elements – the African students have segregated dorms and toilets and it’s a strongly unwritten rule that they and the white pupils do not touch, and while they are allowed to play sport the opportunities to represent the school are heavily restricted due to government rules. In some ways though this fits the book as a key theme of it (and its predecessor) is the effect of colonialism on “natives” (hence the title of the first book) and Tambu’s rather blind obsession with anglicisation (despite the hostility of her mother and the warnings of her cousin Nyasha – largely a distant figure in this book as she recovers from her eating disorders – and whose absence I think does not serve the book well).

Consistent with her drive and optimism in the first book, Tambu is convinced that her future salvation lies in education and after initially aiming for annual honours sets her target on winning the school prize for the best O level performance – a several-year project that involves prodigious amounts of learning and the sublimation of almost everything else.

All of this takes place against the background of an increasingly violent and increasingly proximate civil war (the Bush war) – with both white and black school friends suffering family deaths. But Tambu’s focus remains on her goal and she even at one stage starts knitting gloves for the Rhodesian soldiers to the horror of her black schoolmates.

More so than in the first book – this book is littered with Shona words and phrases and the book contains a detailed glossary of both. The result is that the English reader is always flicking from the narrative to the glossary – the effect is not particularly satisfactory albeit perhaps it serves as a metaphor for the opposite journey that Tambu takes as she adapts to what is effectively a white. English world, leaving her Shona background increasingly behind.

In my review of the first book I discussed how Tambu’s view of what is holding her back and preventing her education (her poverty, her sex) evolves over time and that the reader realises that a third factor (her race) will be the likely issue at the convent. For much of the book Tambu seems almost determined to ignore the fairly overt racism at the school, but cannot any longer when a white, girl (with lesser grades but with better sporting prowess – which is of course an avenue largely closed to Tambu) wins the prize on which she has set her heart.

This leads to her being hugely discouraged just as her Uncle is celebrating her achievements. At the same time, the white exodus as the country gets increasingly violent leads to a shortage of teachers and to the science subjects (which Tambu takes at A-level) being taught in a nearby white only school – so that she is forced to rely on another girl’s notes.

A crucial concept in the book is “Unhu” (personhood) “that profound knowledge of being, quietly and flamboyantly; the grasp of life and how to preserve and accentuate life’s eternal interweavings”; together with the associated ideas of shared/community being, mutual dependence and support and reciprocity captured in the traditional greeting “Tiripo, kana makadini wo!” (“I am well, if you are well too.”).

Tambu spends a long time working out how to live in keeping with Unhu and eventually fits her educational aspirations to it – reasoning that people like her Uncle and the rich whites she glimpses via the school are in the perfect position to ensure this true-being and mutual wellness. It is, I think, the way that this is taken away from her that gives the book its idea of not-being and hence its title.

The result is a rather abrupt (at least to the reader) disintegration of Tambu’s life – as she (to her own shock) flunks her A level’s, a disintegration made even more bitter by her disappointed Uncle making it clear that he was scarred for life for his part in her education and by the crowing of her mother. Thereafter she takes some unsatisfactory teaching jobs, eventually gains from the lowered academic standards post-independence to get a degree only to find it only gives her access to more poor teaching positions, before eventually taking a place in a young girls hostel and a job as a lowly copywriter. The book ends with her quitting that job after her best work (in an echo of her school experience) leads to another, white, copy writer winning a prestigious award.

We leave Tambu, like the newly independent country, on the point of change, with an uncertain future to look forward to, one which potentially includes hope but hope which we know already is very unlikely to be fulfilled.

“So this evening I walked emptily to the room I would soon vacate, wondering what the future there was for me, a new Zimbabwean”

[Roman Clodia · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 stars

But as I was not, I could feel nothing, and when I had come to this point of not being, I took the precaution of appropriately looking down.

Dangarembga seems to me to be the queen of sardonic vision and, like its predecessor Nervous Conditions, this book is alight with irony. Not detached, intellectualised irony though - it's heartfelt in these books, and bitter, indicative of a robust intelligence with sensibility and sensitivity.

At the plot level, this continues the story of Tambu's troubled adolescence in the convent school upon whose education both she and her uncle place so much weight. But however hard she works (up at 5.00 am to study), no matter the fact that her O Level results are the best in the school, Tambu cannot achieve the coveted School Cup which she has set her heart upon - because she is a Black girl in a Catholic school and this is Rhodesia at a moment when Zimbabwe is struggling to be born from blood and history.

What Dangarembga does so well is to offer this story without a trace of sentimentality or hand-wringing. She gives us a character who isn't necessarily likeable (though I love reading about Tambu), and she uses her to trace the forces that crush an individual: patriarchy, misogyny, the cover of religion, race are all ranged against our protagonist. This is also clear-sighted enough to show the internal conflicts amongst the handful of African girls (six of them crammed into a separate dormitory meant for four so that some even have to share wardrobes) and the different strategies they might adopt.

There is perhaps an issue with pacing as we go from Tambu's schooldays through Zimbabwean Independence and into her first job as a teacher and her second as a copywriter, and some sections can feel a bit sparse. To me, it felt like that's because the book wants to focus on the key ideas which is fine, but is a little jumpy.

Still, the focus on 'not' is a compelling one and the absences, invisibilities, things written out, not spoken about, even the kind of abdication of self already hinted at with Nyasha in the first book comes to fruition here. On one hand this reminded me of other 'death of the heart' books such as The Death of the Heart by Elizabeth Bowen and Frost in May by Antonia White both of which feature another adolescent girl-woman (and another convent education in White where god is the ultimate patriarchal power); but Dangarembga's postcolonial overlay and its acute analysis of the politics of a long history of racial subjugation combined with the oppressions of gender raise this book to a whole other level.

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the second in Dangarembga’s trilogy and it follows on closely from the first. I hope to read the third later in the year. It is semi-autobiographical and follows Tambu from the ending of the first novel when she gains a place at a Catholic Girls boarding school, one of a handful of African girls to do so. The backdrop is still the war of independence (during the first three quarters of the book).
The effects on Tambu are profound: her sister has lost a leg to a landmine. Her uncle, with whom she lives out of term time has an uneasy relationship with both sides. It affects all the girls at the school:
“What is the matter?’ Sister was very anxious.
‘I’m fine,’ I told her. My favourite teacher was anxious. But my sister lay first in the sand and then in a hospital bed without a leg. What would Sister do if I told her? What would the other girls do if they heard? They all had their little boxes tight in their chests for their memories of war. There was too much grief here for a room full of girls. Thinking this, I did let go. I forgot about not letting anything out. I kept on wiping so that my tears fell on the cloth sleeve. It was like that when people were kind to you. Sometimes you forgot.”
Of course the backdrop is still colonialism and the struggle against it and its effects are especially clear in the hierarchy of the school. The book also envisions decolonisation and what it might mean. Dangarembga skilfully shows Tambu’s alienation, not only in relation to her education, but also to her family. She is stuck between two worlds. She gains the highest O level grades in the school and yet a white girl with lower grades wins the attainment prize.
“As I liked to be good at what I did, I was not afraid of hard work. I would put in what was required to reach the peak I aspired to. It was especially important to be at the top, as it was quite clear to me and to everyone I had to be one of the best. Average simply did not apply; I had to be absolutely outstanding or nothing.”
This isn’t really a stand-alone and you need to read the first novel. This doesn’t quite have the impact of Nervous Conditions, but it is a good follow on.

[Maggie · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the sequel to Dangarembga's seminal and fantastic Nervous Conditions. The back cover claims that the sequel "is destined for similar success". I have to disagree.

One of the most difficult tasks for an author is to come back and make their second book as good or better than their introductory smash-hit. Harper Lee essentially said "fuck it" and left To Kill A Mockingbird alone in its brilliance. Stephen King still hasn't learned to shut up. So really, an author could go either way.

It took Dangarembga almost 20 years to come up with this sequel and I'm still not sure if I'm glad she did. Nervous Conditions, which I devoured in preparation for the continuation of the story, leaves Tambu alone in her dorm room at a prestigious and expensive Catholic girl's school. The Book of Not picks the story up there and adds to Tambu's trials the conflicts and pain that culminated in Zimbabwe emerging from Rhodesia. It's an admirable attempt, but perhaps not as clear in rhetorical focus as her previous work. Naturally, in light of the political climate, with her own family deeply involved in the revolution, Tambu's mind and narrative voice is going to be scattered. Should she focus on Latin or on flying body parts? But in this confusion Dangarembga's lost some of her power, her crystalline and biting turns of phrase. The reader is suddenly aware of how different Tambu's world has become.

Maybe this is all because Tambu has moved beyond my realm of experience - I could identify with her educational and familial frustrations, but a revolution? Rampant racism? Conflicts between you and members of your own race who think you're selling out? This is a new world for me and I'm not quite sure Dangarembga's adept enough to bring me along as willingly or as entranced as I used to be. And maybe that's Dangarembga's point - readers are willing to come along for a delightful, if painful, coming of age tale but are ready to flee once things start getting a little more difficult or awkward.

Dangarembga's working on a third novel in what will be Tambu's trilogy. And I'll probably read it. You should probably read this as well, whether you're interested in the continuation of Tambu's life or not. It's good medicine - a reality check.

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 3 out of 5]

The follow up, after many years, to the much heralded Nervous Conditions was rather lower profile, indeed at the time of the Booker selection of This Mournable Body, the third in the trilogy, its existence seemed to escape a lot of the coverage, including from one of the judges.

And I did find this a relative disappointment after its predecessor.

There is certainly an interesting transition from the first book, where the impact of political situation and race relations of the country was implicit, perhaps reflecting both Tambu's personal circumstances and her relative naivety, to this novel where both the war within the country and the experience of racism impinge on Tambu directly.

However, the story at times felt a little forced, as did the extra inclusion of Shona vocubulary, often explained both afterwards in English in the text and in a glossary which felt superflous. And too much of the story focuses on the detailed ins-and-outs of boarding school life, with the family dynamics of the earlier novel rather dropped. And even Tambu's own story felt rather artificial - her exam failure seems to come from nowhere and her experience at the advertising agency rather cliched.

As a stand alone novel 2 stars, although raised to 3 for continuing Tambu's story - now on to the third novel.

[Max · Rating 3 out of 5]

Im Vergleich zum Vorgänger "Aufbrechen" dominiert im zweiten Teil der Reihe, die sich der jungen Tambu widmet, ganz klar das Thema der Rassentrennung und des Rassismus im Rhodesien/Simbabwe der 70er und 80er Jahre.

Tambu erlebt den Schulalltag in einem Eliteinternat, in dem zwecks Quotenregelung neben hunderten Weißen auch sechs (ja: sechs!) schwarze Schülerinnen die weiße Kreide der Tafel bewundern dürfen. Vorurteile und offener Rassismus prägen das Bild ebenso wie der im Hintergrund ablaufende Bürgerkrieg und Tambus unglaublicher Ehrgeiz. Sie hofft, als eine der besten Schülerinnen nicht nur eine Auszeichnung der Schule, sondern auch den Respekt der Mitschüler zu erhalten.

Wie im ersten Teil ist Tambu dabei eine vielfach zerrissene Person, die zwischen der afrikanischen und europäischen Einflusssphäre lebt, die indigene Werte wie "Unhu" ebenso verinnerlicht hat wie den Rassismus der Nonnen. Sie muss es allen recht machen und dabei immer 120% liefern, weil sie sonst gegenüber den weißen Mitschülerinnen zurückgesetzt wird.

Ein gutes, lesenswertes und natürlich wichtiges Buch, das den geistigen Nährboden für die Regentschaft Mugabes untersucht.
Dass Tambu dabei oft genug kreuzunsympathisch denkt und handelt, ist sicher eine Stärke des Buchs: Wer sich so verbiegen muss, um als gleichberechtigter Mensch anerkannt zu werden, bricht an manchen Stellen. Das titelgebende "Verleugnen" bezieht sich dabei auf verschiedene Bereiche. Die jungen schwarzen Mädchen verleugnen sich, ihre Kultur, um von den Weißen akzeptiert zu werden. So sprechen sie im Gebäude nicht Shona und verstecken die Speisen, die ihnen ihre Familien schicken. Auch gesellschaftlich wird geleugnet. Nach dem Sieg von Mugabes Revolutionstruppen können Weiße und Schwarze sich nicht auf eine Bezeichnung für die Vorfälle einigen (Befreiung vs. Kriminalität) und leugnen die Änderung des Gesellschaft im Gespräch.

Nicht immer gut übersetzt/geschrieben, recht schmucklos und glatt in der ersten Person verfasst, mir fehlten die bedrohlichen familiären und natürlich die feministische Ebenen, die das erste Buch zu Tambu so intensiv gemacht hatten. 7 von 10 Punkten.

Ich freue mich auf den finalen Teil.

[Doug · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this, and its predecessor, strictly due to part three being nominated for the prestigious Booker Prize - and I'm glad I did, not only because it appears that it is somewhat indispensable for a thorough understanding of that third volume, but because I very much enjoyed both of them - as attested to the fact I read both in under two days time each.

After a somewhat shaky first chapter, that violently throws one into the midst of the encroaching war in Rhodesia (soon to become Zimbabwe), and is an abrupt change in direction from the concerns of the first volume, the book backtracks and pick up exactly where that first volume left off - and then details protagonist Tambu's years at an elite convent school, to which she is only admitted under a quota system. The racial indignities she suffers are counterbalanced by her commitment to the principles of 'unhu', a complex philosophy of 'personhood', and her unrelenting determination to come in first in the school's competitive O levels. That she is unfairly stymied in that goal should not come as a surprise, given the title of the book, and the final chapters concern the aftermath of her school years, which turn out similarly bleak and unjust. A final sentence gives a somewhat halfhearted glimmer of hope that Tambu might just yet prevail, and I am eager to dive into volume three to see if that actually comes to fruition.

[Claudia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Another excellent read. This wasn't as exciting as "Nervous Conditions" for me, but I think that's just because Nyasha is far less involved and you have less of an extreme contrast of views between main characters. I think this book is also harder to get into if you can't connect to the experience of colonization, yet at the same time I don't really understand how even a basic understanding of colonization could still remain so out of reach if you've already read "Nervous Conditions". That said, I wouldn't be shocked if this book is less popular despite being arguably of equal quality. Put shortly, while "Nervous Conditions" shows you the extreme consequences of forced assimilation, "The Book of Not" shows you how the promised rewards for assimilation often never materialize for those who seemingly voluntarily seek to assimilate. Despite being set in pre-revolutionary Zimbabwe and shifting to independent Zimbabwe, I couldn't help but see this book's relevance in the African-American experience.

Through the entire book, Dangarembga does an excellent job using language to tune readers into what's going on with Tambu and the other characters without telling it to you in an overly obvious fashion. There are also references that you can only appreciate if you have certain background knowledge: one in Chapter 8 involves Tambu talking about Nyasha reading a book that "seemed to be about agriculture" rather than "being revolutionary" and was by "someone poor like Bongo in the Congo, a starving Kenyan author" (p. 117). References like this demonstrate how cleverly Dangarembga put together the book, showing us where Tambu was psychologically and emotionally by making this very specific cultural connection. Likewise, I also thought the history given was quite interesting. Additionally, characters that too easily could be made one-dimensional like Babamukuru and the "Big Brothers" are given depth and are perceived in diverse ways by what may be assumed to be a monolithic group (Black Africans in the colony). This diversity and depth problematizes the idea that one can easily identify "sell-outs" and "authentic" members of one's group.

Again, like "Nervous Conditions", "The Book of Not" is a shockingly accurate depiction of the lived experience of colonization on the part of the colonized. I was somewhat shocked at how dead-on much of the story was to my own experience with the American higher education system and my experience with being a severe minority in the workplace. I strongly recommend this book to all, yet I do think it could be a seemingly boring and disappointing read for someone who doesn't really see the connection between colonization and the lives of the characters (which would be kind of strange seeing as the author is pretty clear that colonization is central to the story).

Also a thought: "The Book of Not" made me question the legitimacy of treating "Nervous Conditions" as primarily a coming of age novel. I was actually kind of surprised to see that people weren't picking out colonialism as the central theme and I think it's no accident that this book is less popular if that's how readers were viewing "Nervous Conditions". I also am wondering if the reception of "Nervous Conditions" had anything to do with the nature of the reviews on the book cover for "The Book of Not" (e.g. explicit statement that "It is not about repressed sexuality but about repressed identity" and explicit reference to the centrality of colonialism). This raises a question for me: is it actually evidence of modern day colonialism if the author's intent to discuss colonial violence is instead sanitized and characterized as simplistic parallel of everyone else's growing up experience?

[Hugh · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was the second part of Dangarembga's trilogy, which started with Nervous Conditions and finished with the recent This Mournable Body, which I read first when it was included in this years Booker longlist (and now shortlist). Reading them out of sequence meant that much of the plot of this one was familiar because it is summarised in the third book, so what seemed freshest was the detail, mostly the descriptions of life in the exclusive convent school that the heroine Tambu gains a scholarship to near the end of the first book.

Tambu's school years were in Rhodesia before Zimbabwean independence, and the later parts of the book, which describe her young adulthood and move to Harare take place after it.

As in This Mournable Body, the narrative does not always flatter Tambu, and the reader is left feeling that many of her troubles were self-inflicted. For me this book is the weakest part of the trilogy, and I don't think it would really work as a stand-alone novel.

[Michael Finocchiaro · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a decent follower to Nervous Conditions and treats the same issues of race and gender as Tambu makes her way through the Convent of the Sacred Heart in a heartbreakingly hopeless manner. I thought the writing was less stellar than the other two in the series and was especially annoyed that Tambu never defended herself against her uncle as I felt it was somewhat out of character. I do however highly recommend reading this one if you plan to read the excellent This Mournable Body.

[Gabriela · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Book of Not is a much harder book to read than Nervous Conditions, and I can understand why people like it much less, but from the perspective of understanding the human condition, it is equally important, perhaps even more so.

Dangarembga's power and strength comes through in her refusal, even for a moment, to succumb to the western fairy tale that hard work is enough to improve people's conditions. She shows that even superhero like efforts are insufficient inside a rigged system. As much as we wish otherwise, Tambu's fate is the fate that we have to confront.

Dangaremba also does a superb job of showing how colonialism and racism fuck people up internally. Again, it is easy to know this in the abstract but much harder to be able to maintain this state throughout an entire novel. There were so many points in the novel that I yearned for the author to give Tambu some reprieve: for Bamakururu to be more gentle (the most we get are oranges); for Maiguru to be stronger; for Naysha to be more present; for the white school girls to have a conscious. But she doesn't give us that, because we haven't given ourselves that.

[Claire · Rating 4 out of 5]

A year ago I read and loved Nervous Conditions and since hearing that her most recent book, the third in this trilogy was nominated for the Booker Prize and recently shortlisted, I moved this up the TBR and eagerly waited to see what would happen to Tambu, even though I sensed she was going to be further disillusioned.

Most of this second novel takes place in the boarding school Sacred Heart convent she is sent to by her uncle, though the tone is uncomfortably set in the opening pages, while she is at home with her family and they have to attend a compulsory village meeting, where a landmine causes her gun-carrying older sister to lose a leg and her Uncle, her educational sponsor and hoped ticket out of the village is charged with being:

not exactly a collaborator, but one whose soul hankered to be at one with the occupying Rhodesian forces.Mutengesi. The people in the village said Babamukuru was one who'd sell every ounce of his own blood for a drop of someone else's.

Tambu's relationship with her mother is complicated, she finds little solace there, knowing she can never undo her mother's resentment, unless she fails.

How does a daughter know that she feels appropriately towards the woman who is her mother? Yes, it was difficult to know what to do with Mai, how to conceive her. I thought I hated her fawning, but what I see I hated is the degree of it. If she was fawning, she was not fawning enough. She diluted it with her spitefulness, the hopeless clawing of a small cornered spirit towards what was beyond it. And if she had spirit, it was not great enough, being shrunk by the bitterness of her temper.

Tambu sets even higher expectations on herself to achieve in her education than her Uncle or anyone else and is frequently self-critical. We know from book one that her sponsorship in education came at the price of her brother's demise, she wasn't supposed to be the one to achieve, he was. Due to her family's low expectations, she wants to succeed. Due to her Uncle's sponsorhips and high expectations, she needs to succeed. Due to her perceived privilege as one of the few black girls at the mostmy white catholic girl's school, she has to work doubly hard to have her achievements recognised, even when she does achieve.

As I liked to be good at what I did, I was not afraid of hard work. I would put in what was required to reach the peak I aspired to. It was especially important to be at the top, as it was quite clear to me and to everyone I had to be one of the best. Average simply did not apply; I had to be absolutely outstanding or nothing.

All of these expectations to be and do and know according to a multiplicity of expectations affect her behaviour and attitude, to the point where there is little of her authentic character able to shine forth. On one level it is the story of a girl from a modest village family trying to become something else and on another level it demonstrates the mutation of an individual, trying to conform to a system that was designed elsewhere, within which she is perceived as being inferior, even though she is the one who is at home, living in her own country and culture. She tries hard to suppress her emotions, fearing they will contribute to her failure.

'What is the matter?' Sister was very anxious.
'I'm fine,' I told her. My favourite teacher was anxious. But my sister lay first in the sand and then in a hospital bed without a leg. What would Sister do if I told her? What would the other girls do if they heard? They all had their little boxes tight in their chests for their memories of war. There was too much grief here for a room full of girls. Thinking this, I did let go. I forgot about not letting anything out. I kept on wiping so that my tears fell on the cloth sleeve. It was like that when people were kind to you. Sometimes you forgot.

It's an extremely thought-provoking novel and look at an aspect of the effect of colonialism through one girl's education , her striving to succeed and the systemic prejudice that prevents her from being able to do so in a way that is easier for the Europeans. It is set during the tense and frightening period of fighting against colonial oppression, and the emergence of a new Zimbabwe - news of which occasionally filters in to the school, causing the disappearance of some of the students, and a fear for those like Tambu, who harbour confused, dual loyalties.

[Marcy · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book was disappointing after having read Nervous Condition, which I rated very highly. Tambu sets her sights high as she continues her studies at the Sacred Heart School. She studies hard, setting her sights on receiving the top trophy that she has been admiring for a couple of years. Although she deserves it, a white student is the receiver. Tambu's disappointments throughout this story, send her into states of rage and despondency. Her mother chastises Tambu for her higher than mighty attitude for getting a good education and her uncle chastises Tambu for her failures at school. At a job later in life, Tambu writes an ad which moves her company forward; Tambu's self esteem starts to rise:

"When had something good been done before, and I had received acknowledgment mingled with congratulations? That happened such a long time ago, I could not remember. Soon, though, reward would be reaped for effort. Then the trip to the homestead, that tiresome journey would take on a different character, when I went to show everyone how well I was performing, and carried evidence in plastic bags bulging with margarine, sugar, cooking oil and candles."

Two white people knowingly take credit for the ad. Tambu quits the company, feeling another failure that is NOT in her control. Thus the title, in my opinion, The Book of Not.

This book was hard to read. Tambu was not the same compelling character as in Nervous Condition. The conditions in Rhodesia before the country became Zimbabwe were not woven throughout this story the same way as the post Colonial era was portrayed and felt deeply by the characters in Nervous Condition. I'm sorry to say the The Book of Not was a great disappointment to me.

[Till Raether · Rating 5 out of 5]

An engagingly angry book, and one of the most relatable heroines I've come across.

[Daniel Chaikin · Rating 4 out of 5]

27. The Book of Not by Tsitsi Dangarembga
published: 2006
format: 302-page paperback
acquired: May
read: Jun 15-24
time reading: 9:29, 1.9 mpp
rating: 4
locations: Zimbabwe
about the author: born 1959 in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe)

This begins where the wonderful Nervous Conditions ended, but with a different the atmosphere. Tambu attends a privileged white girls school as a charity-case black African, one of six the school accepts by government regulation. Within the school she deals with deep racism, adolescence and the stress of expectations. The school, however, is a protective but isolated place. Outside the majority black population of Rhodesia/Zimbabwe, including Tambu‘s family, is rebelling in bloody war against ruling minority whites in a newly independent country.

This book was written 20 years after Nervous Conditions by an author who finally took a break from her extensive film career. And yet she gets immediately right back in where she left off. I found it a terrific sequel and enjoyed it throughout. I've been on a really a great reading stretch these past three weeks and this was part of it.

[Brian E Reynolds · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the second installment of the author’s trilogy about the black Zimbabwean girl Tambu. This book follows Tambu as she attends a primarily white boarding school and into her beginnings as a working woman.
With the first book, Nervous Conditions, I often struggled with how the author described a situation and then transforming it into a visual. With this book, except for the beginning chapter and Tambu’s transition from school to her first job, I did not have that difficulty, probably because I had grown used to the author’s style. It may also be because I preferred the subject matter and settings in this book to those in the first.
Having spent 8 years of being taught by nuns, the setting at a primarily white boarding/convent school was of great interest to me. The school was allowing a few black ‘Rhodesians’ to attend, which provided the opportunity to get some insight into Rhodesian race relations of the time; Tambu’s interactions with girls of both races and the school staff of nuns were well described and poignant. I especially enjoyed the depictions of Tambu’s motivation and competitive drive to succeed academically at the school, resulting in both achievements and failures.
Similarly, as my father and 2 brothers worked in advertising, the ending portions concerning Tambu’s experience working as a copywriter at an advertising agency were appealing to me. This ending portion had me eager to follow Tambu’s adventures into the next volume.
As mentioned by others. Tambu has both good and bad personality traits. For me, her complex personality makes her feel both real and easy to relate to. Her personality also sets Tambu up to get into some troublesome but interesting situations.
Overall, this was a 4-star book for me.

[Jonathan Pool · Rating 4 out of 5]

Themes

1. The essence of the book is “unhu” . “I am well if you are well too” (102)
More Unhu: the principle is that of reciprocity (119)

2. Indigenous Zimbabwean history and culture. Not the history learned from foreign visitors and occupiers of the country. Its summarised by Tambu’s mother, Mai, who directly challenges the obsession Tambu develops in getting (advancement) from a European style education “Which of your ancestors learnt those books” (195)

Synopsis

Tambu(dzai) Sigauke is now sixteen (so it’s 1970). The story is set predominantly in the Sacred Heart Convent. Sister Emmanuel- headmistress- is American; and between the British and Americans, the continued presence of missionary establishments continued a practice that was first established in the late 19th century.
The convent girls and the teaching sisters jostle for position as hierarchies are formed and the teacher student battle of wills plays out. Throw in some racism, but for the most part this is standard fare for school playgrounds.
Despite the changing times, and for Tambu the onset of adolescence, her own agenda is unchanged:
Tambu : “what I was most interested in was myself and what I would become”(11)
Having read This Mournable Body , part three of the trilogy first, the final chapter in The Book of Not makes a sense that would have been unsatisfactory otherwise. The post independence wrap up is hastily done and I’m glad I didn’t have to wait twelve years to get a degree of closure. Tambu already rents a small room in Greendale suburb and then moves to Twiss Hostel. We meet Tracey Stevenson. In Harare ‘high- lifers’ are emerging yet the commuter bus remains hot and sweaty!

Highlights

The relative absence of description about the backdrop of events in a Rhodesia in turmoil is both a strength and weakness of the book. Because the politics of the time were so significant, its seems strange that the author wrote this book with so little overt mention of the Civil War. Tambu’s sister Netsai had lost a leg as a Comrade in combat and spent time across the border in Mozambique, so the immediacy of the guerrilla war to the Sigauke family is clear, despite its only passing reference in the narrative. Occasional reminders appear: furtive tuning into The Voice of Zimbabwe radio ; and the enforcement of national curfews ; the single mention of the civil war leaders ( Sithole, Muzarewa, Mugabe) (157). Ntombi, a contemporary of Tambu’s at the convent speaks of spies and sell-outs; There is awe among the girls about the “elder siblings” (a euphemism that Anna Burns would be proud of in the context of her Northern Ireland story “Milkman” ). The absence of war is a strength because it’s not spelled out and the reader has to read between the lines; it’s a weakness because it’s more fascinating than the squabbling of the convent girls and the constant whingeing of Tambu.
It should be remembered that Dangarembga was writing this in 2006, at a time when memories of the ultimately successful struggle for freedom were very fresh, and in the transition towards a new nation the line between heroism and culpability was not yet clear cut.
Babamukuru, a dominant character in Nervous Conditions, is a distrusted and ambiguous figure in Book of Not. I thought the dimunition of Babamukuru was very effective piece of writing when contrasted with his influence in Nervous Conditions

Historical context

A double referendum was held in Rhodesia in June 1969, in which voters were asked whether they were in favour of or against the adoption of a republican form of government and a new Constitution, as set out in a White paper. Both proposals were approved. The country was subsequently declared a republic on 2 March 1970, but was not recognised by the international community. Given the backdrop; of post WW2 clamour for change and independence from colonial rule in Africa (Macmillan’s “Winds of Change” in 1960), the unique situation in Rhodesia truly added salt into open wounds. The existing, serious, disquiet at the white privilege and minority rule was further aggravated by Ian Smith’s UDI.

Author background & Literary Context

Published in 2006, eighteen years after Dangarembga’s much acclaimed “ Nervous Conditions , this second part of what is now in 2020 a trilogy, does not seem to have drawn too many readers, or admirers.

The most interesting literary reference occurs when Nyasha says she is reading A Grain of Wheat by Kenyan novelist Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o first published in 1967.

Recommend

If you like This Mournable Body ,which I do, this makes a very satisfactory back read, filling in some gaps on the life trajectory of both Tambu, and the modern Zimbabwean nation. As she says “I wondered what future there was for me, a new Zimbabwean” (246)

[Magdelanye · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's not about was and were.... It's about what you're meant to know and what you're meant not to know. p118

Tambudzi is NOT content to inherit her parents slapdash ways, determined NOT to resign herself to what she regards as a dismal life in her poor village. NOT daunted by all of the obstacles, NOT willing to give up a rare chance to educate herself into a better life.

...you could do so much with words. You could maul them and twist them and tear them, but if you did they would not dance. Yet words were forgiving. You grappled with them...and when you were tired became gentle, and the words leaped for you, streaked with healing powers from the depths. p220

Twenty years would pass before TD picked up where she left the feisty Tambudzi on the threshold of a new life as she achieved her dream of attending a prestigious integrated school for young ladies. The Book of Not elucidates how this opportunity did NOT match her dreams. Despite her intelligence and diligent efforts, life at the school is NOT easy and NOT fair. Excellence is NOT always rewarded and the laws are NOT always just. Segregation and casual racism and the vestiges of colonialism impinge on the integrity of what she is learning. Education as a betrayal of the values she has been born to respect; educated for what? What position can there be during a war for those who are caught between sides?

It is a wan and disillusioned Tambu that we follow in this instalment of her life. Thankfully, TD did not wait another 20 to reveal the rest of her story. Hopefully she will have found a way to restore her famished spirit and that her resourceful imagination will bring a happier resolution .

[Whitlaw Tanyanyiwa Mugwiji · Rating 3 out of 5]

I thoroughly enjoyed Tsitsi Dangarembwa's first book, Nervous Conditions, unfortunately this her sequel did not live up to my expectations. This book is slow moving, with too much detail on mundane teenage activities as if the intended audience are teenagers.

Perhaps I am judging her book too harshly, but its not my fault, she set the bar too high with Nervous Conditions. It was always going to be such a tall order to replicate such brilliance.

[Milly · Rating 3 out of 5]

A sequel to Nervous Conditions, this book was difficult to read. It was confusing and hard to follow Tambu's emotional journey. I had difficulty finishing it but persevered so that I will be prepared to read the third book in the series which got stellar reviews.

[Joy D · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Book of Not is the second book in Tsitsi Dangarembga’s Nervous Conditions trilogy. The storyline continues protagonist Tambudzai “Tambu” Sigauke’s life story. Set in colonial Rhodesia, Tambu is attending the Young Ladies College of the Sacred Heart, an elite, predominantly white missionary boarding school, where the promise of education is undermined by systemic racism. It is set in the 1970s during the Zimbabwean War of Liberation, which sought to end white minority rule in Rhodesia, and eventually led to Zimbabwe's independence in 1980. Dangarembga weaves this historical context into Tambu's personal narrative.

The tone of this book is less optimistic than its predecessor. It follows Tambu’s educational experiences, which include multiple disappointments, bullying and harassment, and an increasing sense of invisibility. Tambu is motivated to excel but finds it difficult, if not impossible, to obtain the recognition she desires (and deserves). The novel reveals how the educational system is designed to reinforce colonial hierarchies, despite its ostensible integration. It then follows Tambu into the workplace, where her boss takes credit for her work.

It is told in first person from Tambu’s perspective, which allows intimate access to her thoughts and feelings. As indicated in the title, Tambu is defined more by what she is not than by what she is, but she demonstrates remarkable inner strength. It is a difficult book to “enjoy” due to its focus on self-negation, but it exposes the myth of meritocracy and the deep psychological damage that often results. It challenges readers to confront uncomfortable truths about how systems of oppression function and the devastating impact they can have on individual identity and self-worth, which remains relevant in today’s world. I recommend reading these books in sequential order and look forward to the final book in the trilogy, This Mournable Body.

[Gregory Duke · Rating 1 out of 5]

1.5

This book is so complex in its ideas, in its reflections on the colonial and postcolonial mindset, that it allows immense access to the fraying psyche of a subjugated people. It's claustrophobic. It's infuriating.

I love the characters. I love the ideas. I love that the campus novel becomes a reflection of the insular experience of the white Rhodesians and reveals the all-encompassing effects of revolution. I love the way the ending shows how even someone like Tambu, someone who in Nervous Conditions was constantly striving and breaking boundaries through sheer perseverance, can still fall prey to the systemic oppression she face. She is broken. The fraught relationship between education and class shown in Babamukuru and Mai's interactions with Tambu, Nyasha's sidelining, Tambu's loss of her achievements due to race, the way that even a scooping of Nesquik becomes a racialized point of conflict, the effects of trauma, it's all there and it's all important.

But oh my god is this poorly written. Too many pages. So many sections are wooden, uninteresting, and even painful to get through. Metaphors are empty. The actual scenes are blurry and never clarified, so you're forced to reread paragraphs to no avail. The sentence construction can be clunky and overly dedicated to subordinate clauses. I had to begin to skim. I'm really hoping for the last volume in the trilogy to step up the writing quality back to what Nervous Conditions showed, because this installment has been forgotten for a reason, which is depressing to say considering how much is actually done. I commend Dangarembga, but this was a misfire.

[Ali · Rating 3 out of 5]

A pall of dread lays over this novel, the middle part of a trilogy written over decades, as Zimbabwe has reeled from the effects of colonialism. The book can be a chore to read, as we watch Tambu's hopes get smothered by racism, sexism and colonialism. Tambu's deep hurt carries the novel, drawn sharply enough to wince.
While the first in this series - Nervous Conditions - focused on Tambu's cousin Nyasha, viewed through Tambu's dismayed eyes, here Tambu alone is the novel's focus. Traumatised from the brutality of then-Rhodesia's war, Tambu plunges into obsessive study at her elite girl's school, determined to armour herself with white-girl-success as a protective measure. In the process, she isolates herself from the other Black girls, her family and the school administration and white pupils, who have no intention of allowing one of the "African quota" students to excel. Tambu's hopes can stand for the promises of colonialism, and her ultimate humiliations its result. While I can see what Dangarembge is doing, it makes for a relentless read - predictable, and with an increasingly unlikeable protagonist. The warmth that the cousins' loyalties to each other brought to Nervous Conditions is missing here, which I felt lessened the emotional impact of the hits that Tambu takes. I struggled with the pacing, which starts with a consistent passing of time and then starts to jump quickly over major events.

[Anna · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Book of Not is a sequel to Nervous Conditions and continues the life story of Tambudzai in the prestigious convent school she has won a place at. The vast majority of the pupils at the school are white and the few black girls admitted are continually subjected to racist treatment. Tambu tries to focus on her studies, while the war of independence rumbles on in the background. The schoolgirls can often hear mortars falling not far away. Dangarembga vividly evokes the claustrophobic, arbitrary environment of the convent school and the toll it takes on Tambu. Her response to her O-level results has a particularly big impact. The novel dwells in detail on her complex, ambivalent feelings about learning and the European material she is taught:

I liked to stand at assembly and look up at the library. Stepping into the library was as exciting as stepping into a winnow basket, the first transport choice of local magical people, as otters board a flying saucer or a magic carpet. Away, away you whisked in that place, into the pictures of other people's imaginations, the pages of other people's histories. And how warming it was to not be here but somewhere else, over there between this and that, where you could become anything at all and where anything, including good things, could happen! Yes, the library ran above the domestic science classroom. Aromas of sugar, butter, lemon, and cinnamon wafted up while you sat in your cubicle concentrating acutely, book in hand, but not really there, somewhere else. It was a small ecstasy of being.

As she gets older, her understanding of the unjust environment in which she lives deepens and she becomes jaded and depressed. While this makes for unhappy reading, Tambu's growing up is brilliantly and subtly depicted. Dangarembga is a skillful and observant writer, giving the reader deep insight into Tambu's thoughts and feelings. I heard her discuss this book and her other work at a recent book festival event, in which she mentioned that Tambu's school years draw upon her own experiences.

Although I found The Book of Not insightful and moving, I don't think it flowed quite as well as Nervous Conditions. I found it a little difficult to get into at first as the opening scene confused me. I think this is because it is shown from Tambu's perspective and she is in a detached, nearly dissociated state. I did not initially grasp what was happening to her sister. The subsequent narrative of the convent school is brilliant, though, and develops the themes of Nervous Conditions very effectively.

[Kavitha · Rating 3 out of 5]

“What I wanted was to get away. But the moon was too far beyond, and there were white bits under me, where the flesh was shredded off and the bone gleamed that famed ivory, and those below cowered and, if they were not quick enough, were spattered in blood. Then came the jolt, as of a fall, and I saw the leg was caught in an ungainly way in the smaller branches of a mutamba tree, the foot hooked, long like that infamous fruit.”

Book of Not by TsiTsi Dangarengba starts with these impactful lines. Our main protagonist, Tambu, whom the readers met as a child coming of age in rural Zimbabwe in Nervous Conditions, is now 16 years old in the backdrop of a war torn Zimbabwe. She is a student of a prestigious residential college, which Tambu believes to be her path to salvation at the end of Nervous Conditions. Most of this book is about Tambu's struggles at the school, being part of a minority community of Black girls in a predominantly white school.

Tambu expected her new school to be a path to her salvation, a path that would take her away from what she considered to be a primitive way of living. Tambu finds out that that's not the case. Tambu thinks that the white sisters at her school were generous to allow her to be admitted into such a prestigious school, considering her poor background. She finds out that that's not the case. She learns that hidden behind this outward display of generosity is a much deeper sense of superiority, which is brought to the forefront in various ways. For example, via segregating black and white students (these two colors absolutely cannot mix within the school campus), by stuffing a greater number of black students in smaller and poorly furnished rooms. Tambu still believes that she can overcome all these hurdles via her hard work and will power. She pours her heart and soul into getting good grades. She finds out that the obstacles to her progress only got bigger as she got better grades. Whatever Tambu envisions when she steps into this school is not meant to become a reality for her. Hence the title 'The Book of Not'.

This book was not an easy read. It made me inhabit Tambu's head and get insights into whatever is going on in there, from one thought to the next. It was exhausting. But, it allowed me to get to know Tambu at a whole different level, which makes me excited about reading the next book in the series. I found Tambu's internal battles with her unhu (personhood), in particular, to be very interesting. I also felt like the effects of colonization, the promise of hope for a better future only to find out that it was false hope, the systematic conditioning of people's brains to make them think that whatever is theirs (their culture, their beliefs, their language, their way of living, etc) are bad and need to be replaced by the colonizer's "superior" counterparts, are all brilliantly portrayed. The characters are all well fleshed out and have been infused with a lot of depth. Babamukuru, Tambu's uncle who is the patriarch of the family, his wife Maiguru, and his daughter Nyasha are all complex and interesting characters, apart from Tambu herself and her mother. I wished there was more of all of these characters in the book, but this one was all about Tambu herself.

I can't wait to read 'This Mournable Body' next...

3.5 stars

[Fifi · Rating 4 out of 5]

'I am well if you are well too!'
#DeZinVanHetBoek #TheEssenceOfTheBook

What a sad, sad tale. This left me depressed by proxy, if such a thing is possible. As hard as protagonist Tambudzai studies, as hard as she is trying to work on her personhood - which I'll get to in a bit - at no time does life grant her anything good.

Many reviewers here on GoodReads state this book disappointed them, as compared to its prequel Nervous Conditions. It seems this has mainly to do with the fact that the arc of the story does not grant the reader any good either.

Where Nervous Conditions offered some sense of hope and possibility for Tambudzai, The Book of Not slams the door shut in her face. So no, this is by no means a fun or exciting read.

But it is a very moving one. Rather than considering this a disappointing tale, I see it is a tale that affirms how disappointing people are.
Dangarembga writes wonderfully about this sad and mad world of ours. She illustrates this by way of Tambu's continuous reflections on how to do and be good. She is striving for unhu, or personhood, which is related to Ubuntu. The essence of unhu is to be well so that others may be well. But no one in this book is well, and so neither is Tambu, who learns that 'Unhu did not function, unless the other person was practising unhu also.'

The story does not end here. The title of the final installment of Dangarembga's trilogy, This Mournable Body, hardly sounds as if it will offer any relief. I do not look forward to reading it, but I will.

[LeastTorque · Rating 4 out of 5]

This second part of a trilogy continues seamlessly the struggles of the young protagonist from the first book in her coming of age under colonialism, in this case as a student in an overwhelmingly white school through war and independence and as a resident in an overwhelmingly white hostel and employee at an overwhelmingly white business.

And it is all so achingly sad. The author captures so much it would take a long time to note it all here. As with the previous book, it’s clear why this trilogy is considered a classic. On to part three (which was shortlisted for the Booker) in a few weeks. Where will this tormented protagonist end up?

By the way, the writing in this one was frequently hard for me to follow. I’m guessing all or most of that was cultural, with unfamiliar ways of communicating, or perhaps I just wasn’t at my mental best.

And aargh. While still trying to crawl out from under grief amplified by Those Who Knew, I end up with a book where amputation by land mine figures prominently. I just might be up for some trigger warnings after all.

[Maniki_021 · Rating 3 out of 5]

TW: Racism, internalized colonialism

I’ve decided to pause the series for now and come back to it another time. The Book of Not just didn’t land for me the way Nervous Conditions did.

Tambu tries to make her way through a white dominated boarding school during Zimbabwe’s liberation war. It explores what it means to be a Black girl trying to succeed in a system built to erase her. There’s honesty in how it deals with racism, colonialism, and the cost of survival it doesn’t romanticize trauma.

That said, it was a tough read while I understand that this is intentional , a reflection of how oppressive systems crush people from the inside . I personally found it difficult to connect with her . It’s not a traditional “overcoming adversity” story, for me it made the experience feel heavy and disconnected.

I still think Tsitsi Dangarembga is a brilliant writer and I respect what she was doing here but for now, I’ll leave the story at this point.

[Mari J · Rating 5 out of 5]

I thought this was even better than Nervous Conditions. The last quarter was perhaps a little weaker than the first three - I enjoy the more detailed parts and less the ones that skip over entire years in a few paragraphs, even if it suits the story. This book seems a little overlooked compared to the first and third one and I don't really understand why.

[Shiku · Rating 5 out of 5]

You craved relief when it was like that; a way out of the world Europeans wove in a pattern that was so exhausting, escape to a destination far from here, where people were benevolent and gracious, and by consensus everyone, women and teenagers too, were included. But a girl's fantasies are ineffective. Days proceeded without many options.

The one word I would use to describe this books is shame.

In Nervous Conditions, Tambu was on her path to achieving one of many lifelong dreams as she began attending the prestigious but segregated Sacred Heart College. But suddenly everything changed when she witnessed a land mine blow up her sister's leg - a horrific opening to the first chapter.

Set against the backdrop of the Zimbabwean War of Liberation, Tambu continues to fight against her nervous conditions: her Blackness in Rhodesia, growing up in a rural homestead, her poor upbringing, a misogynistic father and a revolting and unloving mother. These themes and patterns continue to haunt her evoking strong feelings of shame within me as I watched someone I deeply rooted for struggle not because she's incapable but because the goalposts were shifted to accommodate white people.

The Book of Not was a perfect sequel exploring the nervous condition even further as Tambu struggles to redefine herself in Rhodesia and, later on, Zimbabwe.