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Unlike most memoirists’ published sufferings, the hardships that native Malawian conceptual artist Samson Kambalu faces are not self-inflicted. In The Jive Talker, Kambalu writes unsparingly about Malawi, a disease- and poverty-ridden African country where the average male life span is 34 years. Kambalu, born in 1975, is one of five children of the ‘Jive Talker’ – his hot-tempered, Nietzsche-quoting, hospital-administrator father. The family’s intellectual lives revolve around his father’s mini-library of literary essentials, conveniently situated just above the toilet.

Kambalu recalls, among other things, his awkward sexual experiences, battles with black mambas, exotic insects, sickness, and the bizarre hazing rituals at his prep school, the elite Kamuzu Academy. Luckily, his escapist obsession with American movies and First World pop culture helps him transcend the harsh reality of Malawian life. As an adolescent, he dreams up the now-notable faux-religious Pop-Art concept known as Holyballism, which involves soccer balls wrapped in Bible scripture.

While the ‘Jive Talker’ isn’t exactly loveable, Kambalu takes a mostly even-handed approach to his dad’s stormy eccentricities. But when his father contracts HIV, the author responds with cruel detachment. He mocks his father’s deterioration from proud armchair philosopher to AIDS-ridden invalid, and guiltlessly yearns for his death: all Kambalu thinks about is the postmortem ‘death gratuity’ he’ll receive from his father’s employer.

Despite this sort of Nietzschean selfishness, Kambalu’s writing shines with absurdist observational wit. He also deftly interjects relevant Malawian cultural and social history to reinforce his personal narrative. And although his experiences may be less decadent than those of self-crucifying Dandy in the Underworld author Sebastian Horsley, Kambalu’s off-kilter memoir is equally worthy of examination. Michael Sandlin