There are a few things that Selam, the sharp and witty narrator of Mihret Sibhat’s comic bildungsroman, “The History of a Difficult Child,” does not like: Her bully Kamila, who steals her candy and cruelly dangles the hope of real friendship; Comrade Rectangle-Head, the neighbor who has taken it upon himself to make sure Selam’s family complies with the rules of the new socialist government; pinches administered by her older siblings when she misbehaves; and adults who lie or dismiss her.
That last one makes Selam especially furious: “People in my family are always whispering things to one another in front of me as if I am deaf or don’t understand their language.” She has no patience for those trying to shield her from critical information. The fact that she is a child – we meet her six days before her baptism – makes it all the more urgent that she gets her questions answered.
Review
“The History of a Difficult Child”
By Mihret Sibhat
Viking. 400 pages.
$28
Like other child narrators – see Giovanna in Elena Ferrante’s “The Lying Life of Adults”; Esch in Jesmyn Ward’s “Salvage the Bones” – Selam is curious and obsessive about the truth. She wants to know why her mother keeps traveling to Addis Ababa instead of staying with her in their Small Town. She must figure out where her father disappears each night and why he comes back weeping. And don’t even get her started on this God person: Who is he and why must – according to her siblings and parents – she obey him?
Selam’s pressing queries guide Sibhat’s debut, a wily and operatic novel about a former aristocratic family’s adjustment to post-revolutionary Ethiopia. Depending on whom you ask, the child – whose conception came as a surprise to her mother, Degitu, and her father, Asmelash – is either a force for good or a curse. Before Selam can even speak, her family watches her “like a difficult situation.” She watches them too, meticulously cataloguing her observations in hopes of clarifying the rules of her strange and rapidly changing world.
“The History of a Difficult Child” spans decades, swinging between the past (before Selam) and the present with a casual and impressive ease. We’re in Selam’s point of view for most of the novel, but Sibhat occasionally supplements the child’s limited perspective with other voices: a chorus of gossiping townspeople, the former servants of Degitu’s feudal estate, etc. These risky shifts pay off more often than not. The occasional jagged transition between scenes, overwrought metaphor or overly precocious observation can be forgiven for Sibhat’s ultimate feat: She has built a portrait of Ethiopia’s history while giving us a compelling family drama anchored by a distinctive heroine.
The impact and contradictions of the one-party Marxist Leninist government, the creeping influence of Pentecostal evangelism and the growing frustrations of working-class Ethiopians vibrate with urgency in this novelist’s hands. Sibhat’s ability to find humor in even the darkest situations keeps “The History of a Difficult Child” nimble and propulsive. About Christ’s resurrection, the child thinks: “What a cruel prank to play on your mother. I cannot play such a prank on my mother because I’m already a worrisome child.” On missing her siblings when they leave for work and school: “The spirit of sadness is trying to crush me but I’m refusing. Four of my siblings woke up early this morning and left without saying good-bye to me. They always do that to avoid seeing me roll on the floor crying.”
Sibhat uses Selam’s capriciousness – the child’s tendency to overreact, to draw improbable conclusions, and to declare someone an enemy or an idiot – to her advantage. That perspective burrows into the truth and beauty of our emotional landscapes and underpins the most biting parts of this novel’s ultimately endearing sweetness, keeping “The History of a Difficult Child” grounded no matter where Selam’s journey – or imagination – takes her.
Lovia Gyarkye is the arts and culture critic at the Hollywood Reporter. Her essays and reviews have been published in the New York Times, the Atlantic, Vogue and the Nation.
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