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Between August 30, 2017 and December 13, 2017, writer and art critic Emmanuel Iduma shared a series of vignettes and images on his Instagram page - with the hashtag #astrangerspose. In that period around 23 of these photos and vignettes were shared. Less than one year later, some of these images appear in Emmanuel Iduma's soon-to-be released book, A Stranger's Pose.


What appears to be the first image in Emmanuel Iduma's #astrangerspose series on Instagram

Published by Cassava Republic, and out in Nigeria and the UK October 16, 2018 and in the US November 17, 2018, A Stranger's Pose has been described as "an evocative and mesmerising account of travels across different African cities". The blurb further describes it as "a unique blend of travelogue, musings and poetry".

A Stranger's Pose begins in Mauritania. Emmanuel Iduma is "in a white E350 Ford van ... driv[ing] into a Mauritanian sunset"


Today Eid ul-Fitr begins. Men are walking back from mosques, women and children trailing them, sure-footed celebratory. I see all this with my nose pressed to the window. The men wear long, loose-fitting garments, mostly white, sometimes light blue. I watch them from behind, and think of the word 'swashbuckle'. I am moved by these swaggering bodies, dressed in their finest, walking to houses that look only seven feet high. I envy the ardour in their gait, a lack of hurry, as if by walking they possess a piece of earth.  
I want to be these men. 

This first chapter is half a page. Half a page is enough to clearly inform you of what you are getting into when you decide to read A Stranger's Pose. By Chapter 2 - which is probably around three-quarters of a page long - we meet "a relative who requested anonymity". A relative who after Iduma recounted stories of his travels asked him to "take me with you on your journeys". Simply put - this is exactly what Emmanuel Iduma does with A Stranger's Pose. Through poetic writing, Iduma takes you along on the journey. You feel like you are there - on these different journeys - every step of the way.

Through Iduma's travels, we go to Mauritania, Lome (as part of a West African book tour), Kouserri (twenty-five kilometres from N'djamena), as well as N'djamena, Dakar, Rabat, Nouakchott, Bamako, Abidjan,  Addis Ababa, Douala, Yaounde, Nouadhibou, Khartoum, Goree Island. In Nigeria, we go to Lagos, Benin City, Abuja, Asaba, Umuahia, Enugu. I haven't captured all the places we encounter. A map in the middle of the book helps us place the different African countries and cities Emmanuel Iduma visits during his travels. 

Iduma meets many people along the way. People whose stories are as much a part of A Stranger's Pose as Iduma's own stories. Khadija who worked in the building he was residing while in Rabat, Serge the caretaker of the motel he stayed at in Abidjan, Salih in Mauritania who lives alone, and will not get married as "women are too complicated". These are some of the people we meet. 

The story - the journey - isn't linear. Then again, neither are our memories, and the ways in which we remember things and tell our stories. We may start off in Mauritania, then head off to Lome, and many pages later we are back in Mauritania. This is what also makes it feel like Iduma is telling only you a story - as he remembers it, or should I say recounts it. That is, his travels - be it difficult experiences, such as obtaining visas or something unique/beautiful about that city he visited, or the period at which he visited the place, or the person(s) he encountered on this trips. 

Iduma is very observant. The things he notices and captures in the book make you aware of just how. Iduma is able to capture not only the sense of a place, but also the sense of people in those places he visits and even their moods and their feelings. A Stranger's Pose also gives a sense of be/longing. How do you get to and from a place? Especially if you are an African (a Nigerian) visiting other countries in Africa? What is it really like to be in a place where you don't understand the language? How do you navigate these spaces?

At the same time, this book is more than observations of a young Nigerian man travelling within Nigeria, and across a number of African cities. In some parts, it also feels like a book about searching  - especially in the chapters focused on "home" (by home, I am referring to Nigeria). A Stranger's Pose doesn't end far away, but closer to home - in Iduma's ancestral hometown. I won't give away too much, but Iduma is searching for something and towards the end writes a passage that made me think not only of a stranger's pose but a stranger's glance. 

I am yet to mention the photographs that accompany this book - around 40 if I counted correctly. Photographs taken by Siaka Traore, Tom Saater, Dawit L. Petros, Abraham Oghobase, Jide Odukoya, Emeka Okereke, Stephen F. Sprague, Adeola Olagunju, Eric Gottesman, Paul Marty, Michael Tsegaye, and Emmanuel Iduma himself.  Forty photographs that also stay with you long after you finish the book. 

One of the photographs that feature in A Stranger's Pose. Source: Slideshare

Emmanuel Iduma is an art critic, and if you have read his photo essays, such as The Colonizer's Archive is a Crooked Finger, it makes sense that photographs would feature in this book. For me the photographs also made me remember the stories even more. I am struggling to find the right words to describe it. For now I will say, it humanised an already very human story. Still, I want to know how, and why, the photographs were selected? Did the vignettes/stories come first, and photos come after? Or did the photographs jog a specific memory that Emmanuel Iduma was then compelled to write? 

I also haven't touched on the books mentioned in this book - including Yvonne Owuor's Dust, Ben Okri's Famished Road, Amos Tutuola's My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, John Berger's Photocopies, Breyten Breytenbach's Intimate Strangers. There are also a few films mentioned in this book. 




Travel writing - particularly in the African context - tends to be dominated by a Western perspective. Indeed, back in 2013, Fatimah Kelleher wrote about travel writing and Africa in the 21st century
Over the last 400 years however, travel literature has been dominated by western colonial and post-colonial viewpoints (which in turn have been dominated by the upper and middle classes) that have contributed to the larger lens through which places like Africa are viewed globally. 
Kelleher followed this up in 2014 with a reading list of ten African and African Diaspora travel writing - some of which were included in a 2014 list on African travel writing for this blog. It is extremely refreshing to read writing about travels on the African continent by an African - in this case a Nigerian. With Emmanuel Iduma's book adding to a canon of travel memoirs/books that are slowly moving the genre - when it comes to writing about 'Africa' - away from the Western gaze. 

I don't tend to quote myself, but I end with something I tweeted after I finished A Stranger's Pose: 
I savoured every word, every sentence, every paragraph, every image. As I got to the last line of the last page ... the only word I have in my vocabulary to describe this book is 'beautiful'.
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Once in a while, a novel comes that defies categorisation - that's Nikhil Singh's debut novel Taty Went West. It has been described by Lauren Beukes as 'a hallucinogenic post-apocalyptic carnival ride'. When I first read it I felt like it was Alice in Wonderland on crack, but to be honest it's more like Alice in Wonderland on what seems like never-ending crack. Told in 4-parts, Taty Went West is an absolutely terrifying and thrilling read. 


It follows Taty who runs away from her home in the suburbs of the Lowlands Into the Outzone to escape from something terrible she has done. Taty is around fifteen/sixteen at the beginning of the story. Once in the Outzone she is captured by Miss Muppet, and taken to the malicious imp, Alphonse Guava's, lair where she meets a number of interesting characters including Number Nun (a robotic, sex slave nun), the zombie Typhoid Mary, The Sugar Twins - a pair of 'Detachable Siamese', and the overweight Michelle 'nailed to a large wooden cross'. 

The fact is the world and characters Singh has created is completely bonkers, and you can only wonder what goes on in that beautiful mind of Singh's to create it. Also, there are a lot of characters in this novel - some of which I have named already, and there are more, and also many settings. Surprisingly it wasn't too confusing, but more than that Singh was able to make every character and very setting quite distinct.  

Now Alphonse the imp is the Oga of the Soft House - a sort of twisted brothel - and Taty, having been captured by Miss Muppet, will come in handy for Alphonse who wants her to work for him, particularly because Taty is special:
' ... these sno-globes were something like our emotions sensations and mental emanations rendered invisible' and Taty was 'not just any sno-globe.' 
'See, when most people are receptors, you are, in fact, a transmitter...' 
'You can be tuned to create specific sensations and emotions within people - just the sight of you playing tennis in the right skirt, if amplified correctly, could be enough to kill a person'. p38
You see Alphonse was in the business of pleasure, and young Taty had something that would take his customer's pleasure to another level. 

While all this is going on and Taty was settling into her new life, in another dimension - at the Clock Shop - Dr.Dali had found something sinister for a rival of Alphonse, Mister Sister. Dr. Dali had an 'inter-dimensional Venus Flytrap' that enabled him to capture foreign specimens - and what he had found, the Symbiote, was really going to take the pleasure game to a whole 'nother level. 

Now I said Singh created beautiful characters in his world, well here's a glimpse:
A figure crawled and crept like a gecko along the outer walls of the lifeguard station. It resembled a lanky teenage boy, except that it was possessed of slick, green skin, similar to that of a tree frog. The amphibious resemblance did not end there. The arms and legs of the being were double-, if not triple-jointed and possessed of a rubbery flexibility. An extra elbow and knee joint lent the legs and arms a vague 'z' shape when they flexed. When the creature stopped moving, these limbs folded up like wet origami and it assumed a sickening sort of yogic position, not unlike that of a grasshopper. Another dramatic feature of the thing were its long antennae, which quivered in spasms upon its head. The antennae themselves were gigantic and feathery, like a moth's, fluttering spastically against surfaces. The eyes of the symbiote were disproportionate, bulbous and reflective, Nictitating membranes licked across their surfaces while complex sets of mandibles operated below. Someone had dressed the thing in loud, neon surf shorts, whether for a joke or modesty it was hard to tell. (p85)
I mean really Singh has a way of making you feel like you are right there. I really can picture that symbiote in its loud, neon surf short.  

Now with the discovery of the symbiotes, let's just say that Taty running away from home and being kidnapped by Miss Muppet and becoming a pleasure transmitter for Alphonse Guava is not the worst thing that happens to her - or, for that matter, the other characters in this books. You see, the symbiotes are special - it 'can evoke a sensual bliss unparalleled on this plane', and 'also deliver a state of almost perpetual orgasm' (p. 86). And so I ask you, dear reader - what would you give and do for a state of almost perpetual orgasm? 

Taty Went West definitely takes you on a journey along with Taty - who is quite an interesting character. She's not really a damsel in distress - even with all the things she experiences. She is also quite aware of the decisions she makes, and it seems that in spite of all that happens to her once she's in the Outzone she doesn't regret her decision to leave the Lowlands. I was also amazed by her bravery, and hurt by the amount of abuse and sexual violence she experienced once in the Outzone and beyond. Yes, this book makes it clear that the Outzone might be a place that gives you freedom, but that could come at a price, especially with regards to your body. I should also add that every character in this novel is flawed - some more than others; and some (read Alphonse) even quite a bit more selfish than you can imagine. Then again someone like him never painted himself as an angel.

In all this, I am yet to mention the absolutely stunning illustrations, which add another layer to this novel. And don't be fooled! I said at the beginning that Taty Went West defies categorisation. Well, just because the heroine is a teenage girl doesn't make this a YA novel. Similarly, just because there are illustrations doesn't make this a graphic novel. Taty Went West in the general sense is a Sci-Fi and Fantasy novel - although I read it as more Fantasy (a very trippy one), but  to be honest, what Taty Went West really is, is a novel that each reader needs to decipher for themselves. Regardless, it is one that must be read and every word and illustration savoured. 

The Soft House. © Nikhil Singh
Indeed, while it isn't a short book - there are 408 pages - I read it in one day because I couldn't put it down. I was fascinated, intrigued and terrified by this world Nikhil Singh had envisioned. Taty Went West is an absolutely stunning debut and I can honestly say I didn't expect what I read. This is certainly not your average teenage girl on an adventure story. It's dark, it's twisted, it's morbid, it's painful, it's heart-wrenching, and I loved it - every single bit of it.
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It has been four years since the plague began - the rat fever launched by the terrorists. Back then it was spread through human suicide bombs. Today, the terrorists mostly use rats. Jinxy Emma James - twelve at the time - also lost her father, to a heart attack; and her mother became a shell of her former self. Now sixteen, Jinxy is an expert sniper in The Game. So good that she finally won it - after eighteen months of playing it; and will now be heading to PlayState for the ultimate prize - a real-life simulated sniper mission.  This eventually leads to an even more ultimate prize - selected to join the Advanced Skills Training Programme at the Advanced Specialised Training Academy (ASTA), and be part of the first ever elite sniper squad. 

I should mention that we are in the US - a futuristic, dystopian one divided into three sectors: the Northeast, the Mid-and-West and the South. I should also mention that everyone wears Personal Protection Equipment (PPE) - masks, gloves, respirators and the extreme ones, disposable PPE suits - protection from the rat fever. Additionally, after the plague children stopped going out (to be safe), except on designated special occasions a number of times a year, and The Game really took off. Finally, there are many different roles you can play in The Game: a sniper (like Jinxy), a spy, a code-breaker and intel agent or even Ops Management. There are, of course, more things I could mention; but here's one more thing - this is the brilliant and dark world that South African author, Joanne Macgregor has created in Recoil - the first part in The Recoil Trilogy. 

I loved this book! But to be honest, after reading two other books by Joanne Macgregor, I am such a fan of her writing, that I can't wait for part two in the trilogy. I also really truly believe Joanne Macgregor can write anything. Macgregor also writes really nuanced and real female characters. 

Jinxy is bad-ass. She is without a doubt the best sniper in her unit; she is determined; she is eager to learn; she doesn't see failing as an option; and she is not afraid to call out anyone who sexualises her, such as Bruce her squad member, constantly fixated with her looks- Jinxy has blond hair, blue eyes with a streak of blue in her hair. 

Enough about Jinxy's looks, the first ever elite squads job is extremely important - eliminate the dangerous rodents. Very important, as they are the ones that spread the fever, and cause the plague. And you don't want to be infected by these rats -trust me! With time, Jinxy gets promoted to even more special ops work - that's just how good she is! There is, however, a problem! Well, two! 

One - as good as a sniper Jinxy is, she really struggles to shoot the animal targets - the tangos (T for targets) - even if they may be deadly and are infecting (and eventually killing) people. As bad-ass as Jinxy is, a soft interior could be seen as a bad thing for an elite sniper squad. Second, is eighteen-year-old Quinn O'Riley - also selected to join ASTA's training programme. 

Ah Quinn! Hottie Quinn - with his darker hair and skin and Irish accent; with his 'lean face and strong jaw' - who Jinxy is instantly attracted to (and it seems the feeling is mutual). Questioning Quinn, who doesn't take things at face value. Selected for Intel division Quinn, who is morally opposed to ratters - snipers like Jinxy. This, particularly becomes a major problem after their six week ASTA training, and Quinn finds out what division Jinxy has been training for (people were unable to talk about their training with non-division members). How do these new, and young, lovers survive this difference in opinion on the importance of ratters? 

Recoil was an absolute joy and pleasure to read, and I was hooked from the first line. I was totally immersed into this world Joanne Magregor created, and I also found it believable - a plague that affected the world, the Government's response, setting up a special ops unit with young people, particularly having a young girl as a sniper - especially, when women are usually the last ones people would expect to be expertly trained snipers, and especially young ones. I honestly can't wait for part two - Refuse; and if you're a fan of dystopian YA, with a kick-ass female lead, then definitely give this a read.
22:20 2 Comments


As the covers below show, there was a period within African literature - particularly with Francophone and Anglophone writing - where the child soldier narrative dominated. One of these narratives included Chris Abani's Song For Night, first published in 2007 and recently published by Telegram Books to mark their tenth anniversary. 

Considering the 'backlash among African literati' in this 'African child soldier' genre, as pointed out by Aaron Bady, it would have been quite interesting to know why the publisher decided to publish this particular book as part of their celebration. This does not take away from the book itself, which as I point out below is beautifully written, but it would have been nice for a foreword to be included to provide a little explanation for that. That aside, here are my thoughts.

A look at some African child soldier narratives in the noughties

Winner of the PEN/Beyond Margins Award in 2008, Song for Night is a dreamlike novella that follows My Luck - a 15-year-old, orphaned boy soldier in an unnamed West African country - who has lost his platoon following a land mine explosion. The story tracks his journey - in the past and the many different episodes that have shaped him (life before the war, and then becoming and being a child soldier); as well as the present day (traipsing through dangerous, possibly enemy, territory) as he retraces his footsteps to find his unit. 

Told from My Luck's perspective, he lets the reader know early in the story that, 'What you hear is not my voice'. Trained - similar to the other boys and girls in his unit - as human mine detectors and defusers; they were silenced by their commanding officer who demanded their vocal chords be removed (so that the others do not hear the 'death screams' of another child being exploded by a mine; and can concentrate solely on their own mines). 

As My Luck has woken up after being unconscious following the mine explosion, I couldn't help but wonder as I read if the present day was a dream or reality; and if My Luck was looking back at his life as he passed away. He does experience a lot of visions during his journey, and might be walking in circles. There are certainly many clues that make you wonder what the case might be.

The writing is gorgeous, which in a way made me very uncomfortable, especially considering the focus of the novella. It is after all about child soldiers, and poetic is not a word I would choose to use to describe what it must mean, and feel like, to be a child soldier. Yet, in reading Song For Night, I did feel like it was in a way trying to humanise the child soldier narrative. 

There is also beauty in the novella, which reveals - to some extent - the light that could be found in such bleakness. The children developed a beautiful form of sign language to counter the loss of their vocal chords; My Luck falls in love with his fellow comrade - a young girl, Ijeoma - to counter the rape and brutality that occurred following rampages in towns and villages; the touching moments of My Luck's past - his mother who taught him how to crotchet - to counter the number of lives he had taken in the three years since he had been a child soldier.  

Almost ten years after it was published, there is still something to be said about Song For Night. In its focus on separation, searching, displacement, love, suffering and horror it attempts to humanise a very harrowing aspect of Africa's history that really and truly cannot (and should not) be erased. Even if the narrative of the African child soldier is not the full picture of any conflict-affected African country - it is also a part of its reality that should not be discarded.
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On 11 February 1990, Nelson Mandela was released after spending 27 years in prison for his engagement against apartheid. Following his release, the African National Congress (ANC) leader worked closely with President F.W. de Klerk's government - and numerous other political organisations - to draw up a new constitution for South Africa. After negotiations, concessions - and political violence - both sides eventually reached an agreement in 1993, which led to a new constitution for South Africa which took effect in 1994. The same year, the first non-racial elections were held, ANC won and this marked the official end of apartheid. 
1967: A taxi rank for white people. Source: Mashable.com
Well, in Nick Wood's, Azanian Bridges, Nelson Mandela was never released and 'died an old and broken man on Robben Island' (loc 2875 of 3124); apartheid never ended - indeed it is almost Christmas in 2014 and elections are taking place next year,  'but everyone knows AWB [Afrikaner Resistance Movement] will win hands down; De Klerk is still in prison for trying to dismantle apartheid from the inside and Terre'Blance [white supremacist] carefully ensures the safety of all ballot boxes' (627); and 'Obama and Osama [are] to meet the Soviet bloc in Peace Talks above the Berlin Wall, as the Soviet Union tires of thirty years of haemorrhaging men into their Afghan ulcer' (422).* 

This is the alternate  world where we find the two main protagonists of this story - Sibusiso Mchunu, a young amaZulu man about to start his first year at university and Dr. Martin van Denter, a white neuropsychologist. Their lives intertwine following Sibusiso suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and being sent to a mental health institution after seeing a friend of his shot by the security police during a peaceful protest. Dr. van Denter becomes his psychologist. 



Martin is one of the co-inventors (along with Dan, can't remember his surname) of  a new device - the Empathy Enhancer (EE) (a Feelings Box), which took years and 'carefully filtered research funds' (438) to create. The EE connects two humans together and 'amplifies ... brain waves' (458) enabling them to understand their experiences more easily. In a depressingly racist country such as the one in this story, in the right hands this device could do good - it could end apartheid, it could break down racial barriers as people begin to connect through feelings, thoughts and memories, it could enable people to empathise with each other. The problem is once it is discovered that it exists, everybody, and I mean everybody, wants it. This includes the secret police who could use it in terrible ways during their not-so-friendly interrogations, for instance. 

Interesting though the first time the EE is really used is on Sibusiso and I cannot help but think of the many levels of ethics that have been broken by testing this device on a human subject; but also the racial element as the subject is a black one, a black one currently suffering from PTSD, but then again Martin does not consider himself remotely racist. Martin is liberal, and thinks he does not see colour. And this subtle and not-so subtle racism embedded in the story, is one of the many really wonderful things about this novel. 

Indeed, beyond the amazing (but quite terrifying) alternate South Africa Wood's has created, what is also interesting about Azanian Bridges is that it is not just the state sanctioned violence that is in the novel, such as the security police shooting black students protesting. There is also the different ways in which the State aims to control the public - South Africa is extremely isolated from the rest of the world, which probably allows for apartheid to continue; there are State Firewalls that make it so that banned 'black' music such as Gil Scott-Heron's is very difficult to obtain, and they 'still wait for cam-phones, but they remain banned as a potentially easy source of troubling video' (627-8). There's also the subtle one: Martin being a 'little more racist than he thinks' (506) or later in the book when he reflects briefly that he has 'become more aware of a wider range of living places in the past couple of days that I have experienced in my entire life' (2158). So here we have a man who thinks he is colour blind testing out his device for the first time on a young black man. 

The device works, and no harm was done to Sibusiso, but the problem with the device working as I said is that everybody wants the EE - seriously people just be knowing about things even when you think it's all secret and what-not. The secret police find out and threaten Martin, but he smashes it before they can take it, and ends up making  a new one. He thinks it's safe (for someone so smart ...), but Sibusiso ends up stealing borrowing it for the other side, a radical anti-apartheid group. 

Indeed, Sibusiso is quite apolitical at the start but becomes more political and aware as the story goes on - in part due to him seeing his friend murdered right in front of him, but the people he begins to be surrounded by such as activists, Nombuso and Mama. He and one of the members of the group, Numbers, end up smuggling it outside of the country - to Zambia - where through the brilliance and mass production skills of the Chinese, it goes from the big, clunky EE to the smaller, portable EmPods - and it only took a few days.

Honestly, the world Nick Wood created is rather terrifying - one where apartheid never ended. What  happens when apartheid doesn't end - state firewalls, police brutality and the likes, but it seems no one is safe - black or white; as while black south Africans are overtly abused, discriminated, harmed and even murdered; white South Africans that might support the cause in any way are also affected. Still, in the words of old Kanye, not new Kanye, 'racism still alive' they just aren't concealing it in this alternate South Africa. 

Case in point towards the end of the story, when both Martin and Sibusiso are interrogated by the same person, the outcomes and treatment are different - with Martin getting the 'better' experience. We know they get different experiences because Azanian Bridges is told from a two person perspective, which allows us to know through words, thoughts, feelings and memories what apartheid South Africa is like for these men of different races, and I should say also economic backgrounds. 

This is also a really clever novel, weaving political history with technology and thriller and in very cunning ways. For instance, Room 619 where Sibusiso is interrogated in, tortured and kept at the end of the novel, is also where Steve Biko was taken for interrogation in 1977 and severely tortured. But as I read and then finished Azanian Bridges, for me the question really is can this EE that everyone wants so badly really bridge the divide between people of different races in this alternate South Africa? Or is it but one element that can help to end apartheid, or indeed any form of racial hatred, by getting people to look beyond skin colour (as but one element) and be open to different possibilities. 

A thoroughly enjoyable and intelligent read, that not only makes you think about technology, about ideas, about discrimination, about thoughts that we may never be comfortable enough to share with others; but also makes you glad for activism and the series of events that did take place in real life that ensured apartheid ended in 1994. 

*Read on my older generation kindle [yes the one with the keyboard :)] so these are the locations on mine, which might be slightly different for another e-reader. Will update with page numbers when I'm able to.
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I knew of Butterfly Fish, but my first real introduction to it was at Africa Writes last July, where Irenosen Okojie was on a panel on new Nigerian fiction along with A Igoni Barrett, Elnathan John and E C Osondu. 

In the synopsis of the panel, the book is described as including 'the dual narrative of contemporary London and 18th century Benin'. Published in 2015 by Jacaranda, the book sounded intriguing - especially the historical aspect of it. While my first instinct is always to gravitate towards female writers, in this instance, I have to say my bias for all things Lagos took over - I ended up getting a copy of Blackass and This House is Not For Sale. 

Fast forward to September and I was asked by the Ake Festival Team if I would host a bookchat with Taiye Selasi and Irenosen Okojie (um, yes!!!). I will admit, though, that if it wasn't for the bookchat, I probably would not have read Butterfly Fish until much later than I did - which would have been a travesty, because this is a truly captivating novel and an amazing debut.  

Thinking back to my book chat with Irenosen Okojie - which I really should have recorded - I remember that Butterfly Fish started life as a short story, took almost six years to write and involved a lot of research on the Benin empire. Butterfly Fish is told in three parts – Part 1: Modern London, London 1970s and 19th Century Benin; Part 2: Modern London, Lagos 1950s and 19th Century Benin; Part 3: Modern London and Lagos 1950s.

It begins in modern day London. The main character, Joy, has recently (and unexpectedly) lost her mother, Queenie. It has just been Joy and Queenie from day one – Joy never knew her father. It’s clear Joy is struggling with her mother's sudden death. Joy is also going through depression and Okojie captures her struggles with depression, along with the loss of her mother, in a way that allows you to feel for Joy, without feeling sorry for her. Joy is a broken character - there is no doubt about that - but she is able in some way to deal with the loss in her life through her neighbour – Mrs Harris - a fascinating character, who has her own secrets.

Butterfly Fish has quite a few characters – Joy, Queenie, Mrs. Harris, Mervyn, Adesua, Oba Odion and his other seven wives (Adesua was number 8), Peter Lowon, who we meet through his journal entries, to name a few. As seen above, it is also set in a number of different periods and locations. Yet, it is not a confusing read and it is written in a way that is very easy to follow. 

As such, while Joy is trying to deal with the loss of her mother, Okojie briefly introduces Adesua – the young woman who will soon become the eighth wife of the Oba in 19th century Benin. Not before we are whisked back to Joy, who heads to Mervyn – a lawyer and her mum’s Jamaican friend  - who has been in Joy’s life since before she was even conceived. Here he presents Joy with her mother’s will, in which Joy has been left with everything her mother had – £80,000, her house and all the contents within it, a brass head artefact and her grandfather, Peter Lowon’s, diary. With that we find the pieces – the brass head – which in a way connects modern day London with 19th century Britain; and Peter Lowon’s diary – which connects 1950s Lagos with London.

That was another thing about Butterfly Fish - 19th century Benin was captivating, and so was modern-day London and 1950s Lagos through Peter Lowon's diary. I was interested in all the characters and in all the places and all the periods, but in very different ways - and one was not better than the other.

With the sections on the Benin kingdom, Okojie created a stunning world with characters I was invested in: Adesua – who was ‘not fit for marriage and will embarrass the palace’, but who Oba Odion (the current king) was hell-bent on taking as wife number 8; king Oba Anuje – Odion's father and previous king; Odion's many different wives – including his third and favourite, Omotola; Sully - the stranger who waltzes into the kingdom, and whose presence leads to a dangerous liaison with Adesua. Then there was Ere, the craftsman, who was forced to carve a brass head in the likeness of the Oba’s rival – Ogiso. A brass head that was too close to Ogiso's image that for the Oba it seemed to wield an ‘unsettling power’. So he gave it to Adesua – lying that it was in honour of their marriage. A gift that caused a stir in the palace – the Oba showing favour to his new wife. A gift that stirred something elsewhere further afield, in the form of a spirit looking for its new home. A gift that a woman in modern day London, Joy, will one day inherit from her mother. 
View of Benin City in 1891. Image via Afritorial

Back in London, and since inheriting the things from her mum, Joy seems to be followed by a woman – who she first chased on the streets of Harlesden and then appears in some photos she has taken (Joy is a photographer). This woman then begins to be spotted by Joy a lot more frequently in many different spaces and places – including ‘on top of the TV set cross-legged playing with static'. Joy eventually refers to her as Anon - but who she is and why is she in Joy's life?

I mentioned earlier that Joy was a broken character, but looking at the Lowon family, they seem to be troubled. It can be seen with Joy in modern day London, with Queenie in 1980s London and with Peter Lowon - Joy's grandfather - through his journal in 1950s Lagos. Journal entries which were also incredibly written. The family did seem to be cursed, or at least those three members of the family. I did wonder if it had anything to do with the brass head which Peter Lowon was gifted – under not-so-ideal circumstances from his Oga - General Akhatar, while he was in the army. Honestly people just be gifting that brass head any how. There are also secrets that haunt this family - Queenie had hers, which Joy only learns after her mother’s death. Peter Lowon had his, which are revealed through his diary.

Ultimately, this is not a happy story – there is death, sadness and a lot of haunting things that cast over each character. It is also a beautifully written and captivating novel, spanning centuries and locations with multiple, often-connected characters. Butterfly Fish also weaves in myths and the surreal – brass heads which may be possessed by spirits, Anon which may be haunting Joy. 

Okojie is a beautiful writer and storyteller. Every word captivated me, every scene drew me in further, and I also felt like I was there - 19th century Benin, 1950s Lagos and 1980s London - with every character. Okojie’s female characters are also beautiful and flawed and human – Joy, Adesua and Queenie – even mysterious Mrs. Harris. Every character also has a place and serves a purpose – including the diary, the craftsman, Sully, Joy’s lover - who really does more harm than good for her - Mervyn. This honestly is an amazing debut, and I am definitely looking forward to what Okojie has up next. Thankfully I don't have to wait too long - as Okojie has a collection of short stories, Speak Gigantular, which will be published in June by Jacaranda.
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Founded in 2011, bookshy represents two things: the young me who was so shy I escaped through books, and the older me whose shelf is always one book shy of being full.

bookshy is a space where I celebrate, promote and recognise contemporary African literature - although sometimes I go back in time to commemorate the greats. It is about the books I love, the books I have read and the books that I am dying to read.

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