Haddis Alemayehu’s Vision of the Old World: Literary Realism and the Tragedy of History in the Amharic Novel Fikir iske Mekabir

Abstract

Haddis Alemayehu’s classic novel ፍቅር እስከ መቃብር (Fikir iske Mekabir, Love until Death, 1958 Ethiopian Calendar, 1965/6 Gregorian Calendar), is lauded by critics as a pioneering realist and modern novel in the Amharic literary tradition. My aim in this article is to scrutinize this take by examining the novel’s narrative temporalities and modes through a dialectical lens. This leads me to argue that the novel’s realism is marked by contradiction and fluidity. Specifically, the emergence of realism in Fikir iske Mekabir is accompanied by its breakdown while the realist narrative mode is accompanied by the traditional narrative modes of epic and hagiography (or, gedl). This hitherto unexamined textual and intertextual quality of Haddis’s novel reveals new insights into its thematic content regarding modernity, tradition, and social reproduction under the old Ethiopian order.

Introduction

Haddis Alemayehu’s classic ፍቅር እስከ መቃብር (Fikir iske Mekabir, Love until Death, 1958 Ethiopian Calendar, 1965–1966 Gregorian Calendar) ¹ is viewed as a pioneering “realist” Amharic novel. This reception, however, is animated by the ideological purpose of affirming the novel’s status as “modern” and (therefore) consequential in Amharic literary history, thereby misreading its fluid and contradictory deployment of realism. Studying these two hitherto unappreciated narratological qualities, in turn, reveals new insights into the novel’s thematic treatment of a traditional African social order and its encounter with modernity. ²

Fikre Tolossa, for instance, identifies the novel (henceforth referred to as FM) as the first realist Amharic novel. ³ He backs his claim by citing the novel’s individualized portrayals of characters, ⁴ detailed descriptions of place and events, ⁵ and plausible trajectories in the plot ⁶ as evidence for its realism or lack thereof. ⁷ However, this claim is maintained by ignoring the aspects of the novel associated with allegory, mystery, irrevocability, and the miraculous. Unfortunately, such realist readings of the novel are so common that they dominate the work of even those critics who are not explicitly concerned with the novel’s realism. ⁸ Further, this assumption leads critics to disparage the novel’s tragic ending as implausible and therefore as insufficiently realist, indicative of the author’s traditionalism. ⁹

Therefore, previous theoretical readings of FM’s realism show a lack of critical focus on questions regarding realism’s tensions and contradictions, not to mention realism’s mimetic validity and its ideological/aesthetic desirability. Indeed, such questions feature prominently in postcolonial scholarship, including but not limited to those with a post-structuralist leaning (see, for instance, Gikandi’s ¹⁰ discussion of realism in African/postcolonial literary history). ¹¹ Moreover, the ironic implications of using narrative modes originating in modern Europe to depict a traditional African society for an African readership are not considered in Fikre’s approach, ignoring the sensibilities of a public whose literary taste may be molded by traditional “genres [such as] the royal chronicle [and] the gädl.” ¹²

Revisiting the complicated issue of FM’s realism, in addition to bringing us closer to the text, can, therefore, help achieve insightful comparative perspectives that relate Amharic literature with literatures and critical debates from elsewhere on the continent and beyond, something I attempt in the following by exploring parallels between FM and Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart in relation to their authorial and narrative perspectives.

I mainly take advantage of two theorists’ concepts in making my argument: Jameson’s conceptualization of realism and destiny as well as Irele’s ideas of double perspective of point of view and unfreedom. I examine the internal contradictions of FM’s realism by drawing on Fredric Jameson’s dialectical argument that realism is a consequence of the tension between what he terms as “destiny versus the eternal [/scenic] present”: “what is crucial is not to load one of these dies and take sides for the one or the other as all theorists seemed to do, but rather to grasp the proposition that realism lies at their intersection … to resolve the opposition either way would destroy it.” He adds that “this is also why it is justified to find oneself always talking about the emergence or the breakdown of realism and never about the thing itself, since we always find ourselves describing a potential emergence or a potential breakdown.” ¹³ My aim here is to primarily focus on the temporal aspect of Jameson’s formulation of realism, the temporal opposition between “the tripartite temporal system of past-present-future” (read destiny) and the “present,” ¹⁴ the idea that realism comes into being in “the symbiosis of this pure form of storytelling [of the récit] with impulses of scenic elaboration, description and … affective investment.” ¹⁵ Although Jameson’s study focuses on European literary traditions, his theorization is highly relevant for our purposes here because of his dialectical mode of inquiry, ¹⁶ coupled with his incorporation of important concepts of narrative temporality such as destiny and how such concepts contribute to a better understanding of realism’s emergence and breakdown, concepts that are central for a deeper narratological understanding of FM. ¹⁷

In addition to using Jameson’s theory to understand the contradiction between destiny versus the scenic present that inheres in FM’s realism, I contend that FM deploys the realist narrative mode in contradictory unity with the traditional epic and hagiographic/gedl narrative modes. These internal as well as intertextual contradictory and interactive narrative processes, then, inform the novel’s themes about the reproduction of individual and social life under the traditional order. I draw on F. Abiola Irele’s concept of “double perspective of point of view” ¹⁸ to show that these oppositions regarding FM’s realism are a narratological working out of the tensions connected to the unfreedom of individuals and society under the traditional order. Irele uses his concept in his study of Achebe’s Things Fall Apart to identify the thematic implications of the tensions involved in this novel’s realism: “a double perspective of point of view is reflected in the narrative devices … evident in what we have called the novel’s diegetic function, which relates to the explicit realism associated with the genre, the imperative of representation to which it responds.” He argues, “On one hand, it enables a positive image of tribal society to emerge, with its coherence and especially the distinctive poetry of its form of life.” “On the other hand,” he continues “we are made aware that this coherence is a precarious and even factitious one, deriving from an inflexibility of social norms that places an enormous psychological and moral burden on individuals caught up within its institutional constraints, imprisoned by its logic of social organization, and inhibited by its structure of social conformities.” Irele further asserts that this occasions a split “within the writer’s creative consciousness,” which “makes for a profound ambivalence that translates as a productive tension in the novel’s connotative substratum.” ¹⁹

Irele, then, enables us to complement the narratological perspective explained previously about the contradictions regarding FM’s realism, that is, realism’s emergence and breakdown due to its internal contradictions as well as its intertextual relation with other narrative modes, with a sociological one. To what extent are the characters in FM “imprisoned” by the “institutional constraints” and the “logic of social organization” of (and here we replace “tribal” with) feudal ²⁰ society? Are the tensions regarding FM’s realism a narratological processing of the tensions connected to the unfreedom of individuals and society in a traditional order on the cusp of change and, if so, how?

My approach, by integrating the sociological with a strong narratological perspective, avoids the reductionism that Yonas Admasu calls the “documentalist approach” to Amharic/African literature, an approach that treats “fictional works … as nothing more than sources for sociological data … [ignoring how and why] the respective authors of the various fictional works weave these ‘social facts’ into the fabric of the narratives qua narrative.” ²¹ Moreover, such an integrated approach is highly appropriate for Haddis’s work, which bridges the boundaries between fiction and nonfiction, poetics and politics, as shown later.

The Tragedy of Life

“And as I fled I reached the very spot where the great king … met his death.”

—Sophocles, Oedipus the King

My aim here is to examine three of FM’s characters whose lives are brutally separated from those around them, transforming each into a “character with a unique destiny.” ²² These characters resist the seeming irrevocability ²³ that marks their lives, whether it is Wudinesh’s struggle against the recurring death of her loved ones or Bezabih and Seble’s struggle against what is referred to in the novel as “የሞት ህይወት” (a living death), that is, a life of forced celibacy. ²⁴ This tension on the level of character is registered in the novel’s formal/narratological dialectic between the temporality of the characters’ scenic/lived present (and, by extension, the temporality of ordinary existence) and the temporality of their fate. This dialectic, I argue, contributes to the emergence and breakdown of FM’s realism; the temporality of fate, and the allegories and irrevocability associated with it, threatens to dissolve the novel’s realism as this realism takes form through the narrative’s recurring convergence on the characters’ lived and scenic present and through the recognition of contingency and human agency that this convergence allows. I then link this narratological structure to the novel’s theme about the reproduction of daily life under the traditional social order by arguing that the dialectical tension described previously informs the novel’s critique of the reproduction of individual and familial life under the feudal order as being dominated by forces associated with death and communal domination. Lastly, I use Irele to argue that, though this unfreedom is seen by the characters themselves in supernatural and fatalistic terms, the authorial perspective is, nevertheless, a critically distant one that regards this unfreedom as earthbound and historical.

Bezabih’s mother Wudinesh is the first character encountered who seems to be in the inescapable grip of fate. Although she comes from wealth, she suffers from the improbable circumstance of being widowed three times. ²⁵ In the scene where she sits reflecting about her decision to marry Bogale, the dialectical tensions mentioned previously are manifest:

እመት ውድነሽ … ባላቸውን ብላታ ብዙነህን ሲያገቡ የገዙዋትን ክብ መስታወት አውጥተው ቦግ አድርገው ሲከፍቱ አንዲት እንደመስታወቱ ክብብ ያለች ፊት ከመስታወቱ ውስጥ ብቅ አለች። ትኩር ብለው ሲያዩዋት እስዋም ትኩር ብላ አየቻቸው። አንገታቸውን ወደ ግራ ዘንበል አድርገው ወደመስታወቱ ቀረብ ሲሉ እስዋም አንገትዋን ዘንበል አድርጋ ወደሳቸው ቀረብ አለች። እመት ውድነሽ ያችን የምታምር ክብ ፊት እየተመለከቱ፡

“አንዲት ፍሬ ልጅ!” አሉ። “አንዲት ፍሬ ልጅ! ሞት የምታስንቂ የምታምሪ አንዲት ፍሬ ልጅ!” አሉ እመስታወቱ ውስጥ ያለችውን ፊት እንደሚስሙ ሁሉ ከንፈራቸውን ወደፊት ሙጥሙጥ አድርገው። እስዋም እንዲሁ አደረገች። ከዚያ እዬሳቁ ወደሁዋላ ራቅ ሲሉ እስዋም እዬሳቀች ወደሁዋላ ራቅ አለች።

“ወዬው ጉድ! አሁን የማደርገውን ሁሉ ሰው የሚያይ ቢሆን ምን ይለኝ ነበር? አብዳለች ትታሰር እባል ነበር! የብቻ መኖር አንድ ጥቅሙ የሰሩትን ሰርቶ ያልሰሩ መስሎ ለምታዬት ማስቻሉ ነው! ለካ ሰውን እብድ የሚያሰኘው እብድ የሚያደርገውን ማድረግ አይደለም፤ እብድ የሚያደርገውን ሲያደርጉ መታየቱ ነው!” አሉ እመት ውድነሽ ፊታቸው ትንሽ እንደማዘን ብሎ። እመስታወቱ ውስጥ ያለችው ክብ ፊትም እሳቸው ሲያዝኑ አይታ እንደማዘን አለች። ግንባራቸውን ቁጥር አይናቸውን ትኩር አድርገው በተመለከቱዋት መጠን አዝና፤ ግንባርዋ ከቅንድቦችዋ መሀከል ታጥፎ፤ ከዚያ በላይ ከፍ ብሎ ስድብ በጉልህ ተጽፎ አዩ፤ አነበቡት “አንቺ ባሎችሽን የፈጀሽ የባል በሽታ” ይላል ስድቡ። “የማንኩሳው አባቴ፣ የማንኩሳው አባቴ ምነው ምን አልሁህና ስድብ ላማረው ሁሉ መሰደቢያ አደረግኸኝ እባክህ በቃሽ በለኝ!” አሉና እመት ውድነሽ መስታወቱን ጥለው፤ አይናቸውን በሁለት እጃቸው ሸፍነው ያለቅሱ ጀመር። ²⁶

This scene captures a profound tension in Wudinesh’s conflicted self-conception. On the one hand, she is on her own and engrossed in a rather positive image of herself, enjoying a short-lived obliviousness to the demands of social conformity and even the threat of death. This is accompanied by a scenic quality of writing that largely halts the passage of time. On the other hand, she quickly becomes self-conscious and constrained by the imagined presence of others, seeing herself as cursed, symbolized by the words of insult on her reflection. Indeed, this mark of “fate” ²⁷ disrupts her suspended isolation, transforming her reflection into an allegory ²⁸ of destiny. Thus, this scene is reinserted into narrative time, and a crushing sense of irrevocability drowns out Wudinesh’s momentary sense of autonomy.

Another notable scene that comes to allegorize a character’s unique destiny is the one that describes Seble’s father’s compound:

ፊታውራሪ መሸሻ ግቢ በሚሉት ሰፊ ሜዳ ለድርቆሽ የሚያስጠብቁት ከሰርዶ ካክርማ ከጉድይና ከዋራት አንድ ላይ ተደባልቆ ያደገው ሳር ቀደም ብሎ የበቀለው አፍርቶ ዘግየት ብሎ የበቀለው ቢጫ ሰማያዊ ነጭና ቀይ አበባ አብቦ ሰብለወንጌል ከተቀመጠችበት ዘቅዝቆ ሲመለከቱት ያን ሰፊ ግቢ ለማስጌጥ ከዳር እስከዳር የተዘረጋ አምሮ የተሰራ ዝጉርጉር ምንጣፍ ይመስል ነበር። ጸሀይ እየሞቀ በሄደ መጠን በዚያ ሰፊ ግቢ የተነጠፈው ሳርና በቤቶች አካባቢ የተተከሉ የፍሬ አትክልት አንድ ላይ ባየር ይነዙት የነበረ ገነታዊ መአዛ ሽቱ በብዙው እንደተረፈረፈበት መዋኛ ከውስጡ መውጣት አያስመኝም ነበር። በወፍራምና በቀጭን አስማምተው እዬዘመሩ ካበባ ወዳበባ ይዘዋወሩ የነበሩ ንቦችና አንድ ጊዜ በፍሬ ተክሎች ዙሪያ ሌላ ጊዜ በሜዳው በተነጠፈው ያበባ ምንጣፍ ላይ በየጉዋዳቸው እዬዞሩ ይጨፍሩ የነበሩ በጸደይ ብቻ የሚመጡ፤ ጌጠኛ ብራብሮዎች ሲታዩ ያ ከልምላሜና ከመአዛ ከውበትና ከለዛ ድርና ማግ የተሰራ ጸደይ ያ የክረምትን ቁርና የበጋን ሀሩር የማይሰማ ጸደይ ባጭር ጊዜ የሚያልፍ መሆኑን በመረዳት ሳያልፍ እናጊጥበት ሳያልፍ እንደሰትበት ሳያልፍ እንስራበት ብለው የሚጣደፉ ይመስሉ ነበር። ²⁹

Seble subsequently realizes that this scene, teeming with life and seemingly still in time, will disappear with the change of seasons, and recognizes it as announcing her own passing youth and fecundity. ³⁰ Like Wudinesh, Seble is presented as separate from others, ³¹ only in her case it is because of “የክብር ባርነት,” ³² her forced celibacy to maintain the honor and “purity” of her family’s royal bloodline. ³³ Therefore, the scene is reinserted into narrative time as an allegory of Seble’s doomed fate of bondage at the hands of her father and his house.

Such scenes break from the realism advocated by the likes of Fikre. Moreover, for critics that give primacy to descriptions free of allegorical meaning, these scenes may not seem significant. Taye, for instance, argues that “the main centers of interest” such as Meshesha’s compound are not described in detail compared to “Alaqa Kenfu’s Qene school, for instance.” ³⁴ Indeed, the latter scene seems devoid of relevance to symbolism or plot, coming closest to Jameson’s category of the “eternal present.” Nonetheless, what strikes me as significant about these scenes is precisely what makes them invisible to such critics, namely the one-sided tension between destiny and the scenic present, and by extension between the characters’ sense of fatalism and freedom. Despite the momentary stalling of narrative time and the characters’ momentary sense of possibility, the story implacably resumes toward its fated conclusion and a sense of irrevocability overwhelms the characters involved.

Nevertheless, these scenes draw attention to the characters’ lived present and, by extension, to the temporality of their ordinary existence, presenting a more positive picture of the traditional village that captures “the distinctive poetry of its form of life,” ³⁵ to use Irele’s words. I am thinking, for example, of the scene that relates the account of Wudinesh preparing dinner after Bogale returns from work, their skirmish and immediate reconciliation, ³⁶ or the scene where Bezabih arrives at the house of qene (ቅኔ ቤት) as a student and sees Aleqa Kinfu’s masterful performance of that poetic form. ³⁷ Another is the memorable scene where Gebre plays his flute after putting the cattle to pasture and encounters and engages in love games with Habtish, a slave in Meshesha’s house who, momentarily free from her duties, is drawn by Gebre’s music. ³⁸ Yet another is where, in the absence of Meshesha and Tiruaynet, Bezabih, Seble, and Habtish interact freely and playfully during one of Seble’s lessons with Bezabih. ³⁹

However, these scenes also draw attention to nearly ineluctable circumstances that impede the reproduction of the characters’ personal and familial lives. In Wudinesh’s case, it is the death of her husbands and Bezabih’s recurrent life-threatening childhood illnesses, a result of the poor social and technical development of premodern society, which evoke in her a sense of spiritual irrevocability. As a result, she commits Bezabih to a vow of lifelong celibacy and ecclesiastical service to elicit divine assurance of his survival. Bogale contests this decision with the more worldly desire of teaching Bezabih the skills of agricultural production so he may take his place, ⁴⁰ stylistically enhanced through rhyming (ቀምበር/ሞፈር/ዘር/ነበር) that seems to echo this generationally repeated social reproductive practice or perhaps invoke the institution of rist, which mandates the hereditary transfer of the right to agricultural land. ⁴¹ It is Wudinesh’s position, however, that prevails.

This allusion to the practice of committing children to ecclesiastical service and celibacy in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, and the contradictions it foregrounds between heaven and earth, celibacy and procreation, and commitment and freedom, provide the author with fertile grounds to develop his critique of the traditional social order through narrative irony. For Bezabih’s prohibition from engaging in carnal love, marriage, and having children, far from securing life, ironically guarantees untimely death.

Bezabih leaves his parents in their old age to free himself from this prohibition, abandoning his responsibility of retiring them. ⁴² This social reproductive role of children retiring their parents is ironically subverted by Wudinesh’s actions to secure it, leading the community to oxymoronically label her and Bogale as “የወላድ መካን,” childless parents. Wudinesh sees this as another sign of God’s prophetic curse on her: “እንዲያው በድሌ እንዲያው በጎዶሎ ሌሊት በፈጠረኝ በእግዚአብሄር ነው የማለቅስ.” ⁴³ Nevertheless, Bogale emphasizes Wudinesh’s own role in driving away their son. ⁴⁴ It is this that constitutes the tragedy of Wudinesh and Bogale’s story; through their attempts to avoid their “fate,” they ultimately fulfill it, albeit in a conflicted and ironically mundane way. This reversal, besides incisively critiquing the religious practice of vowing children to celibacy, underscores that people, although shaped by circumstance, play a major role in shaping their circumstances and that their lives are not divinely preordained. This ironic subversion of the doctrine of fatalism is informed by the dialectic in the narrative that maintains the semblance of destiny while simultaneously dispelling it. ⁴⁵

Despite the preceding intimate portrayal of the characters, however, Wudinesh and Bogale’s story concludes as follows:

አቶ ቦጋለ የተቀበሩ እለት እመት ውድነሽ ታመው አደሩ። ባላቸው በታመሙ ጊዜ እሳቸው አንስተው አስተኝተው ደካማ አይነ ስውር ሊያደርገው የሚችለውን ሁሉ አድርገው በራስጌ በግርጌ ሆነው አስታመው አልቅሰው ባይቀብሩ አስቀበሩዋቸው። እሳቸው ሲታመሙ ግን ሌላው ሁሉ ይቅርና በር እንኩዋ የሚከፍትና የሚዘጋላቸው ባጠገባቸው ማንም ሳይኖር በባዶ ቤት ሶስት ቀን ታመው ሞቱ። በሽታቸው ምን እንደነብርና እንዴት እንደሞቱ የሚያውቅ ሰው አልነበረም። እስከብዙ ጊዜ ድረስ በማንኩሳ ሲመረቅ “እንደቦጋለ መብራቱና እንደውድነሽ በጣሙ የወላድ መካኖች ከመሆን ያድናችሁ።” ይባል ነበር። ⁴⁶

Note the absence of the scenic and descriptive qualities shown previously, leaving us with a vague bare-bones tale, whose finality reveals the “teleological determination” of the récit. ⁴⁷ Indeed, Wudinesh and Bogale’s story is ultimately preserved in village tradition as an invocation of divine protection. As such, the ordinary and contingent existence of this couple is forever denied, and we are left with a tale of their unique and irrevocable fate.

Bezabih’s story bears a similar mark of fate, shot through with irony. He recognizes his being “የስእለት ልጅ,” a vowed child, as a curse that sets him apart from his peers and curtails his freedom. ⁴⁸ However, even his flight from home does not evoke a feeling of absolute liberty since the violated vow remains irresolvable in his mind. ⁴⁹ Bezabih’s freedom is, thus, hemmed in by his sense of being at the mercy of divine powers, indicative of the trope of divinely ordained destiny. More, fate functions as a formal element in Bezabih and Seble’s story as evidenced by its tragic resolution, which will be further discussed in the following.

Indeed, one finds a similar temporal dialectic here to the one explored previously, manifest in the following scene where Bezabih and Seble discover their common experience ⁵⁰ and mutual attraction:

በዛብህ አፉን ከፍቶ በፍቅር የሚዋኙ አይኖቹን በስዋ ላይ ተክሎ ሲመለከታት ሲመረምራት ያች ድሮ የሚያውቃት ውብዋ ደማምዋ ሰብለ ከድሮዋ ሚሊዮን ጊዜ የተዋበች ያበበች ከመምሰልዋም በላይ ባያት በመረመራት መጠን ሰአሊ ስእሉን በመጨረሻ ማስጌጫ ቀለሙ ሲነካካው እያማረ እንደሚሄድ በዬደቂቃው በዬንኡስ ደቂቃው እዬተዋበች የምትሄድ መስላ ታዬችውና የሱም መገረም በዚያው መጠን እዬበዛ ሄደ ተጠራጠረ። እልም ናት እውን? ሰው ናት መንፈስ? መንካት አለበት! እንደ ቶማስ እጁን ሰዶ ዳብሶ ነክቶ ካልተረዳ አይኑን ብቻ ማመን አቃተው! ስለዚህ አፉን እንደ ከፈተ እጁን ቀስ --- አድርጎ ሰዶ አንገትዋን አገጭዋን የተከፈቱ ከንፈሮችዋን አፍንጫዋን አይኖችዋን ጉንጮችዋን ጆሮዎችዋን ከዚያ አይኖቹ የሚያዩትን ሁሉ የሰውነት ክፍልዋን ይዳብስ ጀመር። አይኑ ያዬው እውነት መሆኑን እጁም መሰከረ! አይኑ አልተሳሳተም እልም አይደለችም እውን ናት! መንፈስ አይደለችም ሰው ናት … እንደሌላው ሰው ከስጋና ከደም ካጥንትና ከጅማት የተሰራች ሴት ናት! ሰብለ ናት! …

ስለዚህ መናገር የለ መሳቅ የለ ፈገግታ እንኩዋ የለ እንዲያው ዝም ብለው ብቻ አፋቸውን ከፍተው በመገረም ፊት እዬተያዩ እዬተደባበሱ ተቀመጡ። ⁵¹

This suspended scene draws attention to the characters’ physical and grounded presence through the juxtaposition of dream and reality, of the spiritual and material. The narrative is frozen as Bezabih and Seble are engrossed in each other and in feelings whose import is relayed more by sense perception than narration or even speech. In a novel that relies on what Sahle Selassie describes as “the dramatic method … [where the] author prepares the stage and then makes the characters engage in dialogue,” such scenes of slow and silent interaction are markedly different from the dominant style of the novel. ⁵²

This scene, like the ones described previously, is eventually reinserted into narrative time: “የወይዘሮ ጥሩ አይነት መምጫ ደረሰ። ያን ተራ ፍቅራቸውን ዝሙታቸውን ፈጽመው ሱሳቸውን አሳልፈው የደናግሉን የንጹሀኑን ብሩክ ቅዱስ ፍቅር ለማቁዋረጥ የሚመጡበት ጊዜ ደረሰ!.” ⁵³ This ironic juxtaposition suggests that Seble and Bezabih’s blameless love will (hypocritically) be construed as an offense. It also hints at their fated end of celibacy, implicitly reintroducing the temporality of destiny.

Seble and Bezabih’s forbidden love, which creates for them an island of freedom in a world of slavery, ⁵⁴ eventually raises suspicion and Meshesha interrupts their plans of escape, imprisons her, and has his servants pursue him, leading to Bezabih’s binding sense of fate: “ለካ ክፉም ሆነ በጎ የሚሰሩ ሰዎች መሳሪያዎች ናቸው እንጂ ሰራተኛው እግዚአብሄር ስለሆነ … ክፉ የተሰራበት ወይም በጎ የተሰራለት ዞሮ ዞሮ ክፉውን ወይም በጎውን በሌላ አማክይነት አያጣውም ማለት ነው!”; ⁵⁵ Bezabih adds “እናቴ ምሽት ሳላገባ በድንግልና ታቦት እንዳገለግል በስእለት ስለሰጠችኝ በስዋ አዝኜ ከታሰርሁበት አምልጬ ምሽት አግብቼ ለመኖር ነበር አገሬን የለቀቅሁ። ይዩት አሁን በሌላ መንገድ ወደዚያው ጥንት ወደተመደበልኝ ህይወቴ መመለሴ ነው!.” ⁵⁶ This disavowal of the potency of day-to-day human choices indicates that the temporality of fate dominates the immediate temporality of ordinary existence. Indeed, from Bezabih’s perspective, filled with fatalistic guilt about offenses against God and family, ⁵⁷ the narrative appears little more than a moral tale about the insignificance of human agency in the face of divine providence. Although Gudu Kassa, in a manner reminiscent of Bogale’s earlier role, insists on an earthly explanation of events, Bezabih ultimately resigns to his “fate,” ⁵⁸ throwing Bezabih’s fatalism into sharp relief against Gudu Kassa’s worldly perspective. What is more, Seble ultimately adopts a similar apprehension of her own life, ⁵⁹ more on which later.

It is worth noting here the way Meshesha’s house is memorialized in the wake of Meshesha and Tiruaynet’s death, which happens on the appointed day of Seble and Tafere’s wedding and immediately after Seble’s escape. The wedding, in another ironic reversal, turns into a funeral, where a narrative poem is recited. ⁶⁰ Like the conclusion to Wudinesh and Bogale’s story, this narrative is one of singularity and mortality, told to invoke divine protection from a turn of events that can only be explained by the couple’s seemingly irrevocable fate, which is traced back to their having a female instead of a male child. Furthermore, the same minimalist style and withdrawn perspective are present here. This final tale ⁶¹ illustrates the concentrated force of the récit, reducing each event to a function that leads to the tragic conclusion of the story.

I contend, therefore, that the temporality of destiny and the philosophy of fatalism are vital for a fuller understanding of FM. In positing fate in a way that threatens to dissolve the novel’s realism, the author enhances the portrayal of the daily lives of individuals as being dominated by forces associated with death and communal domination/dependence. ⁶² These forces are wholly earthbound and historical, notwithstanding the characters’ recognition of them as divinely ordained, as evidenced by the form and flow of the narrative itself, the tensions immanent in its plot and narrative technique. This appearance of destiny is dispelled by the recognition of contingency and human agency allowed by the narrative’s constant convergence on the characters’ lived present and by the split between the narrator and the fatalistic subjectivity of the characters, a distance in point of view ⁶³ maintained by including Bogale and Gudu Kassa’s contrarian views.

This distance resembles the one Irele identifies in Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, for the narrative form of Achebe’s novel is not only linked to the state of unfreedom of individuals, ⁶⁴ but also signals an authorial perspective that seems culturally distant from “the background of life—of thoughts and manners” of the text’s referential world. ⁶⁵

However, one key difference between these two authors seems to be that whereas Achebe’s “identification with the indigenous heritage … [was] a later and conscious development” due to having been disconnected from it by the effects of colonial conquest and his Christian schooling, at least as Irele tells us, ⁶⁶ Haddis grew up in and was intimately familiar with tradition, a result of Ethiopia’s peculiarity in sub-Saharan African history of having maintained its political independence amid the onslaught of Western imperialism in the late nineteenth century. ⁶⁷ The traditional order thereby survived, albeit with numerous reforms, until the Ethiopian Revolution of 1974 despite the disruption of fascist Italian occupation from 1936 to 1941.

In addition to his familiarity with the traditional world, Haddis had immense exposure to the new and encroaching world of modernity. His background in traditional and modern education as well as his participation in the anticolonial war against fascist Italy and his positions as a diplomat abroad are important here. ⁶⁸ More, his numerous and unsettled roles ⁶⁹ in the budding state bureaucracy of the postwar period, and his being a member of the educated middle class that came to assume administrative positions alongside the traditional nobility ⁷⁰ indicate his knowledgeability of and disaffection with the ruling establishment and ideas of the day. I elaborate this point about Haddis as a (critically as opposed to culturally) distant insider and its relevance to FM in the next subsection.

The Tragedy of History

“It was human history, masquerading as God’s Purpose.”

—Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

So far, we have discussed social reproduction as it relates to the characters’ personal and familial lives. But this aspect of social reproduction is interwoven in FM with the reproduction of the feudal mode of production as a socio-historical system. And here, too, temporality plays a crucial role.

In what follows, I discuss the relation between the realist narrative mode and the older narrative modes of the traditional epic and gedl in FM, expanding our study’s scale from textuality to that of intertextuality. I then link this discussion to the novel’s theme about the philosophy of history that underpins the reproduction of the social relations and institutions of the traditional system. I argue that FM adopts the narrative modes of the epic and the gedl only to ultimately distance itself from these traditional narrative modes in favor of the realist narrative modes of novels and modern histories. This alternation and ironic juxtaposition of narrative modes informs the novel’s critique of the reproduction of the feudal socio-historical system as being based on the philosophical doctrine that humans do not make their own history and are subject to the cosmic order under which they live. FM’s ultimate disassociation from traditional narrative modes should be read, in my view, as underscoring the historicity of the traditional order and as endorsing the modern philosophy of history that frees humans from this position of subjects by recognizing them as the makers of their own history.

Seble’s inability to marry is not only linked to the preservation of her family’s aristocratic status but also to their claim of “unadulterated” royal lineage. Her future is thus foreclosed upon to preserve the inherited glory of kings and queens long gone, as related in the following scene where the family discusses the failed plans to wed Seble with Asege: “በፊታውራሪ መሸሻ ቁዋንቁዋ [ፊታውራሪ አሰጌ] አባት ብቻ ሳይሆን አያትና ቅድመ አያት ከዚያም በላይ ጭምር የነበሩዋቸው በቆዳና በቅቤ የተገዛ ሳይሆን ካጥንትና ከደም የተወረሰ ጌትነት የነበራቸው አጥንታቸውም ሆነ ደማቸው ሚዛን የሚደፋ ነበሩ.” ⁷¹ Notice the juxtaposition of two sources of power here. The first has to do with commodity production/exchange and money. The second has to do with belonging to a descent group and therefore kinship, with emphasis made on the warrior status of the group, which includes the dead. ⁷² Meshesha resents the potential commodification of aristocratic honor and property, something that he associates with the decline of his power and status, ⁷³ and is fond of Asege because of his lineage. However, Asege’s last-minute announcement of his unwillingness to marry Seble in the custom of marrying a maiden greatly offends Meshesha and their arrangement falls apart. When consulted to ask for restitution from Asege, Meshesha angrily rejects this by stating how that would amount to selling off his family’s and royal forefathers’ honor (“የኔንና ያባቶቼን የነገስታቱን ክብር”) for money. ⁷⁴ reaffirming his disdain for commodity exchange and money power and further invoking inherited honor and the dead. ⁷⁵ Moreover, Meshesha explicitly claims descent from the Solomonic bloodline. ⁷⁶

This portrayal of the aristocracy is in line with sociological and historical studies of the traditional order. The property right that belongs to the landed aristocracy is gult, ⁷⁷ usually translated as fief. Gult is the right to receive tribute from the peasantry living and working on a particular piece of agricultural land. Gult-holders were therefore tribute receivers whose rights to such property were often intended to be permanent ⁷⁸ and sometimes hereditary. ⁷⁹ This institution was often justified as state compensation for military services rendered. ⁸⁰ In addition, the nobility was not only a class distinct from the peasants (gebbar/balager) over which it ruled but was also constituted with steep hierarchies of its own. Those considered of royal descent (the mesafint) were distinguished from other nobles (the mekuanint), and their affiliations with the Solomonic dynasty afforded them supreme status. ⁸¹ Moreover, the nobility, whose “traditional functions were that of governor and warrior,” regarded any form of labor and profit-making as degrading. ⁸²

However, the portrayal of the aristocracy in FM is also imbued with literary qualities that require closer scrutiny. Meshesha’s sense of greatness and his tragic sense of decline are traits that can potentially be part and parcel of a heroic depiction. The reference to “የነገስታቱ … ክብር” (the glory/honor of the kings) heightens this potentiality as it can be interpreted as an allusion to the Kebra Nagast, The Glory of Kings, a fourteenth-century epic that chronicles the rise of the Solomonic dynasty and its transplantation, together with the Ark of the Covenant and, by extension, the true Zion, to Ethiopia. The heroic stature of King Solomon and Menelik I, his son and founder of the Solomonic dynasty, is primarily relayed in this narrative through the immense significance that their bloodline holds both in heaven and on earth:

And King Solomon answered and said unto them, “Where is it then that he [Menelik I] wisheth to go?” And they answered … “We have not enquired of him, for he is awesome like thyself … [they] have come from the dominions of Hendakê (Candace) and Ethiopia …” … His eldest son was the King of Ethiopia, the son of the Queen of Ethiopia, and was the firstborn of whom [God] spake prophetically, “God sware unto David in righteousness, and repented not, ‘Of the fruit of thy body will I make to sit upon thy throne.’” And God gave unto David His servant grace before Him, and granted unto him that there should sit upon the throne of Godhead One of his seed in the flesh, from the Virgin, and should judge the living and the dead, and reward every man according to his work, One to whom praise is meet, our Lord Jesus Christ, for ever and ever, Amen. And He gave him one on the earth who should become king over the Tabernacle of the Law of the holy, heavenly Zion, that is to say, the King of Ethiopia. And as for those who reigned, who were not [of] Israel, that was due to the transgression of the law and the commandment, whereat God was not pleased. ⁸³

The preeminence of Solomon and especially Menelik I here is surpassed only by the cosmic scope of the order of which they are ordained to be the earthly rulers. Further, this genealogical account is accompanied with a prophetic conception of time where, in Auerbach’s famous words, “the here and now is no longer a link in an earthly chain of events, it is simultaneously something which has always been, and will be fulfilled in the future.” ⁸⁴ This idea of divinely ordained irrevocability, expressed in the aforementioned quote’s emphasis on the eternal nature of the rule (Solomonic rule on earth and of the divine rule of Christ) of those who have been uniquely chosen by God (the descendants of David), is precisely what we have identified previously in connection to the temporality of destiny. Moreover, this prophetic conception of time is meant to provide divine sanction to the rule of the monarchs in the story and those that follow in their lineage. Indeed, the prevalence of this prophetic sense of time is such that it structures the narrative itself; though Menelik I is not yet coronated, the previous passage reads as though he, along with his descendants, is.

Meshesha’s invocation of the ancestral dead and claim of royal descent are based on this temporal conception where the present and future fulfill an eternal cosmic order. The royal forebears are thought to pass judgment on present affairs, thereby sanctioning the prestige and privilege of their descendants at present and in perpetuity. ⁸⁵ Moreover, such power is sanctioned by church officials such as Aba Mogese, ⁸⁶ for whom honor inherited by blood is recognized by the divine. ⁸⁷

Instead of being presented as a tragic heroic figure whose power declines with time, ⁸⁸ however, Meshesha is ultimately portrayed satirically in the novel. His claim to royal greatness is done to the point of extremity. ⁸⁹ Moreover, his victory over Asege is ironically reversed, heightening this sardonic effect.

The last-minute intervention of the priests on behalf of the patron saint ⁹⁰ of both Dima and Bichena, Saint George, to plead with Meshesha to forgive Asege’s transgression and to call off the duel adds a mystical element to Meshesha’s established but waning legendary prestige as a warrior, the fabled glory of which leads Asege to hyperbolically identify Meshesha himself as a patron saint. ⁹¹ Indeed, the tales about Meshesha’s former strength and valor are fantastical, incredible stories about his wrestling lions to the ground with his bare hands, jumping from one galloping horse onto another, and the like. ⁹² Further, the intervention of the priests is portrayed at first with the same sense of prophetic time associated with Meshesha’s lineage: “ያንለት [ፊታውራሪ መሸሻ] ለመፈጸም ታጥቀው የመጡለት በደል በአዳም እስከ ዘራዝርእቱ ሞት ካስፈረደበት በደል የሚመዛዘን መሆኑን ከሊቃውንቱ አፍ ሲሰሙ … እግዚአብሄር በእለተ ምጻት በግርማ መለኮቱ ወርዶ በሀጥአን ስለሚፈረደው ፍርድ አባ ሞገሴ ሲሰብኩዋቸው የኖሩት ያንለት በሳቸው የተፈጸመ መስሎዋቸው ይንቀጠቀጡ ነበር.” ⁹³ Even further, Meshesha’s journey to the duel is filled with prophesy and auguries. ⁹⁴ Indeed, Meshesha chooses the day of the duel to be on St. George’s Day to invoke the saint’s intervention on his behalf; ⁹⁵ Meshesha’s choice, thus, appears to prefigure what is fulfilled by divine providence, a narrative structure based on prophetic time that we encountered previously in the Kebra Nagast. Afterward, Meshesha and others look back at these events as miraculous, ⁹⁶ as symbolizing the former’s glory and as being predestined, resulting from his patrician courage and resoluteness. ⁹⁷

Despite these qualities that may lead us to read this part of the novel as adopting a style and structure characteristic of epic narratives, the story of Meshesha and Asege’s conflict ends on a satirical note with the revelation that the priests intervened not due to divine providence or Asege’s fearful entreaties but Qegnazmach Akalu’s (Meshesha’s relative and loyal subject) plan to prevent the duel and Meshesha’s almost certain defeat and death. Only Asege and the heads of the two churches are privy to his plan to have the priests intervene, ⁹⁸ leaving Meshesha and others in his house to continue to ignorantly revel in Meshesha’s courage and Asege’s cowardice. Like Meshesha’s self-aggrandizement, the ultimate revelation that Meshesha’s “victory” is a result of the secretive intervention of someone from his own house ironically undermines his stature. More, it reverses the epic narrative style to that of satire, ironically subverting notions of prophesy and prophetic temporality associated with the former genre by centering the role of earthly circumstance, human agency, and contingency in the chain of events. ⁹⁹

This satirical subversion ¹⁰⁰ sheds FM’s ties to epics such as the Kebra Nagast by undermining this mode’s narratological and philosophical underpinnings in favor of the realist modes of novels and modern histories. Indeed, the novel shrouds the events in mystery only to finally reveal Akalu’s role, dissipating any sense of awe sustained thus far. This demystifying narrative flow is a recurring one and is connected to the way the novel straddles different narrative modes. Moreover, it is reminiscent of Vico’s modern and secular conception of history as made by and therefore knowable to humans, a conception at odds with those of traditional epics and royal chronicles.

This formal and thematic tension between the old and the new is expressed by Gudu Kassa as follows:

የማህበራችን አቋም የተሰራበት ስራት ልማዱ ወጉ ህጉ እንደህይወታዊ ስራተ ማህበር ሳይሆን ህይወት እንደሌለው የድንጋይ ካብ አንዱ ባንዱ ላይ ተደራርቦ የላይኛው የታችኛውን ተጭኖ የታችኛው የላይኛውን ተሸክሞ እንዲኖር ሆኖ የተሰራ በመሆኑ ከጊዜ ብዛት የታችኛው ማፈንገጡ ስለማይቀርና ይህ ሲሆን ህንጻው በሙሉ እንዳይፈርስ እንደገና ተሻሽሎ ሰውን ከድንጋይ በተሻለ መልክ የሚያሳይ የህያዋን አቁዋመ ማህበር እንዲሰራ ያስፈልጋል። የዛሬው ስራተ ማህበራችን ሲሰራ በዚያን ጊዜ ለነበረው ማህበር እንዲህ ሆኖ መሰራቱ ጠቃሚ ኖሮ ይሆናል። ነገር ግን ለዛሬው ማህበር ጠቃሚ አለመሆኑ የታወቀ ነው። የሆነ ሆኖ ማናቸውም ስራት ማህበሩ ለዚያው ለማህበራዊ ኑሮው እንዲያገለግለው ሰው የሰራው ሲሆን ማህበሩን ባርያ አድርጎ እንዲገዛው መሆኑ ጣኦት ሰርቶ የሰሩትን ጣኦት በፈጣሪ ቦታ እንደ ማስቀመጥና እንደ ማምለክ ነው። ¹⁰¹

This passage succinctly conveys the tension between the ethos of the traditional order and the ethos of modernity. By analogizing the traditional order to “a lifeless dry-stone wall” and describing it as archaic and oppressive, Gudu Kassa articulates a major theme that pervades the novel’s very narratological structure. He advocates instead for “an order of the living” that affirms people’s capacity to form their social order freely and collectively, thereby making their own history. This “philosophical break from the past,” as Samir Amin puts it, is how the modern era, “an era of freedom but also of insecurity,” began. ¹⁰²

Also note the tropes of life and death. The lack of personal vitality and liberty in Bezabih and Seble’s lives is reflected here in the lack of social dynamism and freedom in the traditional order, linking the tensions and reversals in narrative time with those in the narrative mode.

In my view, these modern ideals render Gudu Kassa an anachronistic character, especially considering his only having gone through traditional schooling. ¹⁰³ Besides acting as a foil to Meshesha’s aristocratic and volatile temperament, Gudu Kassa seems to reflect the author’s modern subjectivity. ¹⁰⁴ I disagree with those that see Gudu Kassa as representing tradition’s “immanent” or self-critique ¹⁰⁵ because his critique is not limited to the excesses of Meshesha’s power/privilege. ¹⁰⁶ His critique is a qualitative one aimed at the doctrine that humans do not make their own history and are subject to the cosmic order under which they live, ¹⁰⁷ a doctrine that was necessary “for the reproduction of precapitalist [tributary] social systems.” ¹⁰⁸

Kassa’s radical difference is marked by the derisive epithet of gudu used against him, which translates to unusual/odd. Moreover, others dismiss and even condemn his most profound criticisms. ¹⁰⁹ Gudu Kassa’s universal rejection ¹¹⁰ signals that he should be read as the modern subject’s adversarial apprehension of the novel’s concrete referent, the traditional way of life, indicative of the split of “the writer’s creative consciousness” discussed earlier, or as anticipating the sensibilities of the modern novel reader. He may also be read as allegorizing modernity’s advance into the cultural realm of the feudal order. ¹¹¹

What is more, Gudu Kassa draws attention to the author’s concerns regarding the immediate historical context of his novel’s publication, concerns made explicit in Haddis’s short political text Ityopya Min Aynet Astedader Yasfeligatal? (What Kind of Administration Does Ethiopia Need?). ¹¹² The attempted coup of 1960 greatly troubled Haddis, which he viewed as a historic warning sign of discontent with the traditional system, ¹¹³ stressing the need for its radical transformation and the impossibility of returning to “የጥንቱ የኑሮ ሥራት,” the ancient order of life, if worse violent uprisings were to be avoided. ¹¹⁴ Haddis even echoes Gudu Kassa’s words when stating that governments are formed by people and are not created and imposed by a mysterious hand of obscure origin. ¹¹⁵

In addition to the epic, FM alludes to the gedl, a hagiographic tradition that began in Ethiopia early on with translations from foreign sources, eventually leading to the production of texts about native saints. ¹¹⁶ Direct references to the gedl in FM include Kelemework’s copying a section of a gedl “ታምረ ጊዮርጊስ,” The Miracles of St. George, ¹¹⁷ an integral part of the gedl narrative structure, ¹¹⁸ with the aim of selling it to a monastery, indicating the monastic significance of such texts. ¹¹⁹

More interestingly, however, the novel contains less explicit references to the gedl in connection to Aba Tekle Haymanot, a widely revered monk ¹²⁰ that Meshesha enlists to exorcise Seble from Bezabih’s “enchantments.” ¹²¹ The monk’s cryptic narration of how he miraculously received his exorcising cross from God by standing in prayer on one leg for fifteen days ¹²² may be interpreted as a reference to the The Life of Takla Haymanot, a thirteenth-century Ethiopian saint, who, besides bearing the same name as the character, performs the similar but grander miracle of standing in prayer on one leg for seven years after his other leg breaks due to having stood on both for even longer. ¹²³

Even more interestingly, in a section that has bewildered critics, the novel temporarily but thoroughly adopts the style and structure of the narrative mode of the gedl in its account of Seble’s flight from her home disguised as a monk in Aba Tekle Haymanot’s garbs. Her identity is momentarily disguised not only from other characters but also the reader as she travels under the name of Aba Alem Lemine, which translates to “why should I covet the world,” a name seen as authentically monkish. ¹²⁴ This sense of mystery is compounded by Seble’s seemingly miraculous encounters when wandering in the wilderness of the Blue Nile Gorge, an area portrayed in mythic terms as hellishly fearsome. ¹²⁵ Forced to spend a night there, she encounters a leopard and then a lion, managing to escape by climbing a large tree when the two animals confront each other. ¹²⁶ When Seble relates this encounter to others, it is viewed as a sign of divine intervention on Seble’s behalf: “እንዴት ግሩም ነው እባክህ! ገረመንፈስ ቅዱስ በክንፉ አውቶዋቸው ነው እንጂ!”; “መለኩሴ አደሉ! ፈጣሪያቸው ቅዱስ ገብርኤል ጠሎታቸውን ሰምቶላቸዋል ጣድቃን ቢሆኑ ነው!.” ¹²⁷ The lion is even viewed as an allegory of divine protection that saves Seble from the leopard: “ገብሬል በለተቀኑ ታምራት ነው የሰራልዎ! የሚጣፍ ነው!.” ¹²⁸ Moreover, in typical gedl fashion, each of Seble’s escapes from danger is preceded by her praying. ¹²⁹

This curious section has been received with incomprehension and disapproval. Taye, for instance, views it as “a pointless diversion that lowers … the novel to the level of light entertainment.” ¹³⁰ Moreover, Sahle Selassie considers its lack of immediate disclosure of Aba Alem Lemine’s identity to the reader as unnecessarily confusing. ¹³¹ These critics, however, fail to recognize that this momentary shift in style and structure is linked to the novel’s allusions to and adoption of the gedl mode of writing. This appearance of mystery and miracle is created by Seble’s seemingly authentic monastic disguise and her dangerous encounters that seem like signs of divine trials and deliverance, ¹³² which are a major structural feature of gedl narratives. As Kidane Wold Kifle’s definition of the Ge’ez term gedl reminds us, the word denotes “hardships, struggles and trials undergone by believers in order to obtain victory and salvation in their life hereafter.” ¹³³ Additionally, I interpret this account as specifically alluding to and even imitating Gedle Tekle Haymanot, The Life of Takla Haymanot. In addition to Seble traveling in Aba Tekle Haymanot’s garbs and stating her aim of reaching Addis Ababa for St. Tekle Haymanot’s Day to receive a monastic title, ¹³⁴ we can cite her encounter with the leopard, which is highly reminiscent of one of St. Tekle Haymanot’s miracles: the saint saves a would-be monk traveling alone in open country from a leopard attack, a trial that is a consequence of the monk’s desire to marry, and guides him to wholly adopting the monastic way of life. ¹³⁵

The disguise is finally shed when Seble comes across Bezabih on his deathbed, a revelation occurring simultaneously with Seble and Bezabih’s mutual recognition, the former having assumed the guise of a monk and the latter having been rendered nearly unrecognizable by disfiguring wounds. ¹³⁶ Among the numerous reversals here, one is that Bezabih’s “fate” of an ascetic life, one he desperately resists, is ultimately realized not only in himself ¹³⁷ but in the woman he desires to marry as Seble adopts monasticism after his death. ¹³⁸ A further irony, however, is that the novel disentangles ¹³⁹ from the narrative mode associated with monasticism, the gedl, because the narrative’s subjects wish to free themselves from their forced celibacy. Indeed, Seble is hardly the saintly monastic figure she is previously made out to be and is compelled into monasticism by social customs that prevent her from marrying Bezabih, to whom she remains loyal even after his death. ¹⁴⁰ As for her wish to serve God to absolve herself of divine judgment for her parents’ death, Gudu Kassa, in characteristic fashion, stresses her parents’ own role for their fate. ¹⁴¹ This is accompanied by the narrative’s convergence on Seble and Bezabih’s bodily, as opposed to ideal, presence when they uncover each other’s identity: “ባሳብ አይደለም በገሀድ ባካል ሊያዩት ነው! ባይነ ህሊና ያዩት ባካል የሚያዩት እንደሆነ ምን ሊውጣቸው ነው?,” ¹⁴² thus bridging the distance between the narrator and the characters.

This is what I have identified previously as a demystifying narrative flow that is connected to the novel’s movement between different narrative modes and its advocation of the modern philosophy of history. It reveals that the tragic resolution of Seble and Bezabih’s story is not a result of them being followed by prophesy but of them being “hounded by history,” ¹⁴³ whose laws they break and who, in turn, are broken by agents of its conservation.

Conclusion

In this article, I have offered an alternative interpretation to previous readings of Haddis’s classic novel FM and its relation to realism, readings driven by the ideological/normative aim of affirming the novel as a consequentially “modern” one. By adopting a more dialectical approach, I show that the emergence of realism in the novel is accompanied by its breakdown, something that reflects the thematic concern of portraying lived experience under the traditional order as marked by the assertion and dissolution of individual autonomy as it runs into societal limits. Moreover, the novel’s alternation and ironic juxtaposition of realism with the narrative modes of the epic and the gedl draw attention to the historicity of the traditional order and lived experience under it. The novel thereby lays bare the philosophical basis of the traditional order’s reproduction as a socio-historical system, a philosophy that conceives of humans as subject to the dictates of the cosmic order under which they live and ultimately advocates for a modern conception of history that frees humans from this position and recognizes them as the makers of their own history.