SOMEONE LIKE US

Family secrets surface and are hidden away again in Mengestu’s atmospheric story.

Mamush, Mengestu’s protagonist, is a world-traveling journalist who has made a name for himself reporting on the worst of humanity: war, genocide, and “long-­simmering border conflicts and the refugee crises that grew out of them.” Home and a wife and child in Paris call to him. But so does his family in the Washington suburbs, including a man, newly deceased, who is Mamush’s father—or is he? The first sign that something isn’t quite right in Mamush’s world is that he reroutes the subsequent emergency trip across the Atlantic to Chicago, where he once concocted an alter ego, a hidden life that fulfills a wise comment by a college friend: “You’re like a donut. There’s a hole in the middle, where something solid should be.” But Samuel, his father, harbored a secret life, too, that Mamush is determined to ferret out, including time spent behind bars. As Mengestu’s story unfolds, Mamush emerges as a young man not entirely at home in his own skin, even as Samuel takes shape as a well-meaning dreamer with a headful of business schemes and a taxicab full of neglected traffic citations, occasioning more than one interaction with racist cops. Samuel is a man of strong opinions as well, convinced that everyone is out to get him, especially Ethiopians who choose to speak English rather than Amharic. In Mengestu’s skillful hands Mamush is anything but a reliable narrator, but Samuel’s homespun wisdom, born of struggles that we can only guess at, is the real takeaway, his voice from beyond the grave insisting, “Go home to your family, Mamush. Right now. As fast as you can, and once there, do everything you can not to leave.”

A beguiling tale, fluently told and closely observed, that conceals as much as it reveals.