Trevor Noah is one of the most popular stand-up comedians of our time. His memoir, Born a Crime, is critically acclaimed for the fresh, retrospective style Noah took in its writing – especially given its complex subject matter. Having been born as living testament to the inequitability and infeasibility of apartheid, Noah’s matter-of-fact narrative of his childhood experiences in the first six chapters emphasises the social and political impact it entailed. He employs various structural techniques and literary and comedic devices to achieve this end. 

The most immediately evident structural technique Noah uses to reference the political and social issues that surrounded his childhood are the “prologues” (technically intercalary introductions) before each chapter, that serve to provide context for the circumstances he was faced with. Although not strictly considered part of the personal narrative, these pages enable the reader to fully understand the implications that the events that are recounted carry. This is necessary because, as the majority of the events recounted take place during Trevor’s early youth, the personal narrative format does not always fully encompass the overarching connotations involved. For example, the first chapter, Run, is opened with a detailed introduction to apartheid in 20th-century South Africa. The references to the deep-rooted historical nuances that partly facilitated apartheid serve as essential background information to the conflict of the story, which involves a young Trevor being thrown out of a minibus by his mother, effectively in order to avoid being kidnapped. With the context of the prologue, the conflict is complete in demonstrating the fragmentation that existed between indigenous African tribes (in this case, the Xhosa and Zulu), and which apartheid deepened. 

Another structural technique Noah utilises is the non-linear narrative. He recounts different events from his childhood based on different themes, rather than a fixed chronological order, allowing him to directly connect his experiences with broader social and political issues in the country. For example, he explains his aversion to secondhand cars – ‘If it hadn’t been for the Volkswagen that didn’t work, we never would have looked for the mechanic who became the husband who became the stepfather who became the man who tortured us for years and put a bullet in the back of my mother’s head’ –  in the first chapter, long before he formally introduces his stepfather. Here, the memoir becomes reflective rather than narrative, giving sobering insight to the impact the events of Trevor’s childhood had on him – something that would not have been possible with a strictly chronological storyline. 

The dual perspective that Noah employs in his narration – intermittently switching between his child and adult self – also allows him to reflect on the realities he navigated without compromising on their authentic depiction. Noah often revisits his childhood with the critical insights of adulthood, allowing him to reflect on the conditions he encountered without diminishing their authenticity. For example, he remarks, “When I look back, I realize she raised me like a white kid—not white culturally, but in the sense of believing that the world was my oyster, that I should speak up for myself, that my ideas and thoughts and decisions mattered.”. 

Noah also utilises several literary devices in his narrative to engage the reader, and facilitate immersion in his anecdotes. He uses metaphor and simile to introduce a comedic dimension to his account of events, often capturing the mental connections he might have made as a child facing them – he compares religious devotion to a “Starbucks Rewards Card”.  He also employs irony, which comes naturally as he outlines the systemic contradictions ingrained in apartheid and colonialism. This is exemplified in his humorous description of the imposition of the white man’s faith on indigenous peoples –  “You need to pray to Jesus,” he said. “Jesus will save you.” To which the native replied, “Well, we do need to be saved—saved from you, but that’s beside the point. So let’s give this Jesus thing a shot”. Here, irony is used satirically, anthropomorphising a complex social issue to a conversation between the involved parties. This use of archetypes is reminiscent of Noah’s comedy, and is prevalent throughout Born a Crime. 

Similarly, Noah often introduces anecdotes the way he would in stand-up, as if he is setting up a joke – “Sometimes in big Hollywood movies they’ll have these crazy chase scenes where somebody jumps or gets thrown from a moving car. The person hits the ground and rolls for a bit. Then they come to a stop and pop up and dust themselves off, like it was no big deal. Whenever I see that I think, That’s rubbish. Getting thrown out of a moving car hurts way worse than that.” (from Chapter 1). These set-ups act as effective hooks, and once again demonstrate the impact of the non-chronological narrative structure. 

Another important comedic device that Noah employs is incongruity theory – he capitalises on the human proclivity to find something that counters expectations funny, like a boat in a field. An example of this is his use of phrases like “born a crime” and “perfect racism”, each of which are counterintuitive. It is also employed to provide comedic respite – his likening of his evasion to his mother’s discipline at home to “Tom and Jerry” exemplifies this while also contributing to the immersion – Trevor presents such outlandish circumstances as if they’re quotidian, forcing the reader to both consider the large-scale political implications of apartheid and imagine how it might have been to grow up under it. 

Incongruity theory is especially impactful in the style of language Noah uses. Perhaps the most anomalous feature of South African apartheid is just how recent it was – it continued into the late 20th century, and its effects are still heavily felt to this day. The use of modern, conversational language in recounting such harsh realities renders the narrative especially jarring for contemporary audiences. In this way, the absurdity of such political circumstances in a modern context is effectively conveyed.

Overall, in Born a Crime, Trevor Noah uniquely demonstrates the effectiveness in using personal narrative to allude to overarching political and social issues by immersing readers in all the eventualities they may have entailed to a child growing up under them. His comedic style complements this effect, as he is able to tie individual anecdotes seamlessly to convey broader themes, as well as his skilful use of conversational tone and literary and comedic devices like anthropomorphism, archetypes and incongruity theory, which make his memoir accessible and engaging. Through this distinctive blend of structure, wit, and honesty, Noah’s memoir powerfully illustrates how even the most personal stories can challenge injustice, provoke empathy, and illuminate the meaning of living through history as both witness and survivor.