Mgungu Yabba Mgungu is an ex-cannibal living with his family on New Burnt Norton, a remote island somewhere in, presumably, the South Pacific. He is discovered by Maria Fishburn, a young and clueless heiress living in Manhattan. Maria convinces Mgungu to come back with her to New York, where he’s supposed to participate in a dance festival for a cultural museum. Mgungu’s adventures, both humorous and sad, are chronicled by Mgungu himself as he explains his predicaments and wonders at the idiocies and idiosyncrasies of New York society.
This book was given to me by a cousin and has hidden in my stacks for over thirty years now, before I finally gave it a read. I have to say the humor has not aged well. Although the cover promises hilarity, the story takes a horrific turn about two-thirds of the way in and never really recovers from that point onward, becoming instead, a tragic tale that ends with an unsatisfying whimper.
I briefly wondered that if I had read this book when it was first published in 1987, I would have found it funnier and the humor consistent throughout because of different societal norms. I don’t think so. I think I would have come away disappointed then just as I am now. To be sure, there are some strong points to this novel. Janowitz’s descriptions and ways with words are amazing and crisp. She had a unique talent for metaphor and adjective use that makes scenes come alive and empathetic feelings radiate with true color. There were plenty of laugh-out-loud moments in the first part of the novel as the world, both on New Burnt Norton and Manhattan, unfolds through Mgungu’s eyes and thoughts. But the humor doesn’t sustain and to claim this is an outrageously funny book is to blithely wash over the callous taking advantage of a person who is completely out of sorts with his surroundings. I suppose one could say this story is more of a satirical look on the shallow-souled absurdities of the art world in the New York of the late ‘80s. But that’s not how I saw it. It becomes the use and abuse of using up of a human being and the humor fades away rather quickly once life takes a dark turn for Mgungu.
All this is to say that I don’t recommend this book. I’m glad I read it, but it’s one destined for the second-hand bookstore rather than a book I’ll keep on my shelf. If you’re a book hunter like me and come across this title while enjoying time in your favorite used book store, you might pick it up and read it. And if it tickles your funny bone throughout, drop me a line and tell me I’m wrong.