Abdulrazak Gurnah's Theft: A Tale of Love & Resilience

Abdulrazak Gurnah, the 2021 Nobel Prize laureate in Literature, delivers a poignant and intricate narrative in Theft, his first novel since receiving the prestigious award. Set in the vibrant yet turbulent landscapes of Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, during the late 20th century, this novel interweaves the lives of ordinary individuals navigating the lingering effects of colonial rule and the complexities of postcolonial identity. Theft is a coming-of-age story and a sweeping postcolonial panorama, following three young characters—Karim, Badar, and Fauzia—as they confront love, betrayal, and the burdens of obligation in a rapidly changing Tanzania.

Gurnah, a Tanzanian-born British author whose work is informed by his experience as a refugee fleeing the 1964 Zanzibar Revolution, brings a compassionate yet unflinching lens to their struggles.

This review argues that Theft is an essential read for its nuanced exploration of human resilience, the intricacies of postcolonial identity, and the delicate interplay of kindness and betrayal in shaping personal destinies. Gurnah’s lyrical precision and emotional depth make this novel a vital contribution to contemporary literature, offering universal themes of belonging, forgiveness, and agency that resonate globally while providing profound insights into the postcolonial experience. For readers seeking a narrative that challenges simplistic notions of morality and history, Theft is a compelling journey that demands engagement. This review will summarize the novel’s key elements, critically analyze its strengths and weaknesses, and conclude with its significance, particularly for Indian youth readers navigating their own socio-cultural landscapes.

Theft unfolds in post-independence Tanzania, a period marked by the aftermath of colonial rule and the rise of global influences like tourism and foreign aid. The narrative centers on three young characters—Karim, Badar, and Fauzia—whose lives intersect in unexpected ways, shaped by family ties, societal hierarchies, and personal ambitions. The story begins with Raya, Karim’s mother, who is forced into a loveless marriage to avoid scandal, as her father warns, “You will bring dishonor on us all if you continue with that revolutionary” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 12). Raya’s subsequent divorce leaves Karim in the care of his grandparents, where he is later joined by his half-brother Ali and sister-in-law Jalila. Karim reflects on this period, noting, “Karim spent the remaining two years of his school life with Ali and Jalila, content with his routine and untroubled beyond the unease and fretfulness and stupidity which is unavoidable in those youthful years” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 45).

Badar, a young boy from a rural background, enters the narrative as a distant kinsman of Haji, Raya’s second husband. Taken into their Dar es Salaam household as a servant, Badar finds a fragile sense of home, musing, “I liked being without, liked wearing shabby secondhand clothes, because it reminded him of his lowly condition and allowed him to indulge in warming self-pity when he needed to” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 67). A false accusation of theft by Haji’s father shatters this stability, as Badar recalls the sting of being told, “There was something degrading about his circumstances” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 89). Despite this, Karim and his eventual wife, Fauzia, offer Badar a lifeline by inviting him to live with them in Zanzibar, where he works at a boutique hotel.

Fauzia, introduced as a young girl who “met Hawa in secondary school” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 110), brings a perspective of intellectual ambition tempered by childhood illness. Her resilience shines through when she asserts, “I am not defined by what I cannot have” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 132). The trio’s lives converge as they navigate love, work, and parenthood, with Karim’s growing arrogance straining their bonds. His patronizing attitude toward Badar, whom he believes “would have ended up living on the streets as some kind of a criminal” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 165) without his help, reveals a moral complexity. The arrival of Geraldine, a British volunteer described as a “glowing beauty” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 190), disrupts their relationships, prompting Fauzia’s mother, Khadija, to lament, “What do these people want with us? They come here with their filth and their money and interfere with our lives for their pleasure” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 210).

The novel’s climax hinges on Karim’s betrayal, as he demands subordination from Badar, declaring, “You owe me everything” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 245). This fracture is compounded by Fauzia’s difficult pregnancy, as she confides, “I fear passing on my pain to my child” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 260). Yet, the narrative offers a cathartic resolution, particularly for Badar, who finds agency and love, reflecting that “the tide was also in, and Fauzia would hear the slap of waves on the shore, hissing on the sand and then hitting the seawall” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 280). The novel concludes with a poignant affirmation of resilience, as Badar muses, “No matter what has been taken from you, you are still there” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 290), encapsulating the novel’s exploration of perseverance amid loss.

Theft showcases Gurnah’s storytelling mastery, blending a character-driven coming-of-age narrative with a broader postcolonial critique. One of its greatest strengths is its nuanced characterization, particularly of Badar, whose quiet resilience and understated dignity challenge conventional notions of heroism. His reflection, “I liked being without, liked wearing shabby secondhand clothes, because it reminded him of his lowly condition and allowed him to indulge in warming self-pity when he needed to” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 67), reveals a complex inner life that defies his marginalized status. Gurnah’s focus on a character like Badar amplifies the voices of the overlooked, aligning with his commitment to illuminating the human condition.

The novel’s non-linear structure and shifting perspectives are a triumph, revealing pivotal events gradually, such as the understated disclosure of Badar’s father’s identity: “There was something degrading about his circumstances” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 89). This technique mirrors the characters’ experiences of being shaped by historical forces, enhancing the novel’s thematic depth. The vivid depiction of Tanzania’s landscapes, as in “the tide was also in, and Fauzia would hear the slap of waves on the shore, hissing on the sand and then hitting the seawall” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 280), grounds the narrative in a tangible sense of place, creating a rich sensory experience.

Gurnah’s exploration of postcolonial themes, particularly the “theft” of agency and opportunity, is both subtle and powerful. The critique of volunteer tourism, embodied by Geraldine’s “glowing beauty” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 190) and Khadija’s retort, “What do these people want with us? They come here with their filth and their money and interfere with our lives for their pleasure” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 210), highlights the neocolonial dynamics of Western intervention. The novel’s dialogue, presented in italics within unbroken paragraphs, situates conversations as part of a larger historical flow, enhancing the sense of characters caught in time’s current.

Despite its strengths, Theft has notable flaws, particularly its leisurely pacing, which may challenge impatient readers. The first half, with its extended focus on Karim’s childhood, as in “Karim spent the remaining two years of his school life with Ali and Jalila, content with his routine and untroubled beyond the unease and fretfulness and stupidity which is unavoidable in those youthful years” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 45), can feel protracted, delaying the introduction of Fauzia and Badar’s perspectives. This slow build, while deliberate, may deter readers seeking a more dynamic narrative arc.

Gurnah’s stoic prose occasionally undercuts the emotional weight of dramatic events. Karim’s betrayal, marked by his demand that Badar “owe me everything” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 245), is shocking but delivered in a restrained tone that mutes its impact. This stylistic choice may leave readers wanting more emotional intensity, particularly in scenes of conflict, such as Fauzia’s fear of “passing on my pain to my child” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 260).

The novel’s refusal to prioritize a single protagonist, while innovative, can be disorienting. The abrupt introduction of Fauzia with “She met Hawa in secondary school” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 110) feels disjointed, as her connection to the others is only clarified later. This narrative choice, while reflective of the communal nature of history, risks diluting emotional investment in any single character’s journey.

Finally, the climax involving Geraldine’s disruptive presence feels underdeveloped. Her characterization as a “glowing beauty” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 190) is repeated excessively, and her role as a catalyst for conflict lacks depth compared to the richly drawn Tanzanian characters. This reliance on a stereotypical Western figure slightly undermines the novel’s otherwise nuanced critique of neocolonialism.

Why Indian Youth Readers Must Read This Book

For Indian youth readers, Theft offers a profound reflection on themes that resonate deeply within the Indian context, where the legacies of colonialism, social hierarchies, and the tension between tradition and modernity shape contemporary life. The novel’s exploration of “theft”—not just material but of opportunities, agency, and identity—mirrors the experiences of many young Indians navigating a society marked by economic disparities and cultural expectations. Badar’s struggle, articulated in his reflection that “there was something degrading about his circumstances” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 89), echoes the challenges faced by Indian youth from marginalized backgrounds who confront systemic barriers while seeking self-determination.

The novel’s focus on family dynamics, particularly the burdens of obligation, as seen in Karim’s demand that Badar “owe me everything” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 245), resonates with Indian readers familiar with the weight of familial expectations. In a culture where duty to family often supersedes personal desires, Gurnah’s portrayal of characters like Fauzia, who asserts, “I am not defined by what I cannot have” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 132), offers an empowering message of resilience and agency. This is particularly relevant for Indian youth balancing traditional values with aspirations for independence in a rapidly globalizing world.

Gurnah’s critique of neocolonialism, embodied by Geraldine and Khadija’s question, “What do these people want with us? They come here with their filth and their money and interfere with our lives for their pleasure” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 210), parallels India’s complex relationship with Western influence, from multinational corporations to cultural globalization. For young readers, this narrative provides a lens to critically examine how global forces shape local identities, encouraging them to question narratives of “progress” that often mask exploitation. The novel’s setting, vividly captured in descriptions like “the tide was also in, and Fauzia would hear the slap of waves on the shore, hissing on the sand and then hitting the seawall” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 280), invites Indian readers to draw parallels with their own coastal cities, such as Mumbai or Chennai, where history and modernity collide.

Moreover, Theft’s emphasis on resilience and forgiveness, as seen in Badar’s realization that “No matter what has been taken from you, you are still there” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 290), speaks to the aspirations of Indian youth striving to carve their own paths despite societal constraints. The novel’s hopeful narrative offers inspiration for young readers facing academic pressures, career uncertainties, and social inequalities. By engaging with Gurnah’s characters, who navigate love, betrayal, and redemption in a postcolonial world, Indian youth can find courage and compassion to confront their own challenges, making Theft an essential read for a generation seeking to redefine their place in a complex world.

Theft by Abdulrazak Gurnah is a masterful exploration of human connections and postcolonial legacies, weaving a narrative that is both intimate and expansive. Its strengths—vivid characterization, innovative structure, and incisive social commentary—make it a standout work, as evidenced by passages like “No matter what has been taken from you, you are still there” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 290). Despite its slow pacing and restrained prose, the novel’s emotional depth and thematic richness, particularly its critique of obligation and betrayal, as seen in Karim’s claim that Badar “would have ended up living on the streets as some kind of a criminal” (Gurnah, 2025, p. 165), ensure its lasting impact. The novel’s balance of heartbreak and hope makes it a vital read for those seeking to understand the complexities of identity and agency in a postcolonial world.

This book is highly recommended for readers who appreciate character-driven narratives that challenge conventional storytelling. Its blend of personal drama and historical insight, delivered with elegant prose, offers a rewarding experience for those willing to embrace its deliberate pace. For lovers of literary fiction, Theft is a testament to Gurnah’s ability to illuminate the human condition with compassion and clarity.

Author: Abdulrazak Gurnah
Title: Theft
Publisher: Riverhead Books
Publication Date: March 18, 2025
ISBN: 978-0593852606
Pages: 296
Genre: Literary Fiction, Postcolonial Literature