From Maame's beginning until its end a darkness came over all the land. At about the millionth reading of a Google search rThe Death of Book Club Kiki
From Maame's beginning until its end a darkness came over all the land. At about the millionth reading of a Google search result Kiki cried out in a loud voice, “Book club, book club,[a] lema sabachthani?” (which means “Book club, my book club, why have you forsaken me?”).
When some of those watching her stories heard this, they said, “She should have DNFed it.”
Immediately one of them ran and showed her all of Maame's 4 and 5 star Goodreads ratings, and told her it was very relatable. The rest said, “Now leave her alone. Let’s see if the book club discussion will save this.”
And when the narrator said, "We hope you have enjoyed this production of-" Kiki cried out again in a loud voice, she gave up her spirit....more
How is this book's rating so low??? We know why the rating is so low. Too many of you white duppies fake and can't read.How is this book's rating so low??? We know why the rating is so low. Too many of you white duppies fake and can't read....more
A Song of Wraiths and Ruin has already ascended to the New York Times' bestseller list and it is well deserved. In her debut RoUpdate some hours later
A Song of Wraiths and Ruin has already ascended to the New York Times' bestseller list and it is well deserved. In her debut Roseanne A. Brown, born in Ghana, has pulled on West and North African culture to create magnetic, flawed, endearing characters who, from seemingly polar end positions of privilege and marginalisation, must contend with the traumatic, burdensome legacy of colonial empire.
Brown, like the griot of her story, deftly balanced adventure, romance, and scintillating danger in wondrous palaces and narrow alleys with piercing plot lines on war refugees, agricultural exploitation, cultural appropriation, and the courage needed to face the tainted roots that twist and break what a society viewed as the solid righteous rebellious foundations of its existence.
The alternating character chapters here are a popular narrative structure in young adult fantasy and one I was prepared to be bored with. Not so! Malik and his sisters wedded themselves to my heart in the first 3 pages. My simple love for Karina's charming roguishness in her first chapter evolved to a wary respect for a girl quick to cut down others, who must work hard to accept her past, her ignorance, and learn trust again in order to envision a new future for a kingdom she inherited through fire and sorrow.
Indeed, Brown is merciless in the trauma she metes out on her main characters, but by the end I believed in their ability and fortitude to survive the future perils that await them in the second and final entry in this duology: A Psalm of Storms and Silence out next year.
Well done, Brown. As African-based fantasies continue to reap success I hope this signals to the publishing industry that we need many more from writers across the vast continent who have innumerably rich narratives. Far fresher fare than the European norm it has flogged from it feels like time began. (I state this as a Tolkien 4 eva geek devotee.) I want more!
I will gush more on bookstagram but wanted to leave this here since this is a late review. Thanks to Balzer + Bray for the ARC.
It is a common mistake, to hear a story about tragedy and disbelieve it because the telling is off. We think to ourselves, how does the storyteller knIt is a common mistake, to hear a story about tragedy and disbelieve it because the telling is off. We think to ourselves, how does the storyteller know this? We are asking the wrong question. The right question, is why is the storyteller telling me this story? Because I was a child, I heard this story about a village full of mothers and the great loss they suffered and assumed it was a story about the pain of a child. Now, as a woman, I know the story is not about lost children. Children move from this plane to the next every day. It is about a story about unquantifiable loss. It is a story about a lost goddess. What they lost was a god who looked like them. What they lost was the belief in an omniscient, omnipotent female spirit. Now look at this: all of us are condemned to serving these male gods and their rapacious servants.
There are many novels marketed as perfect for biblophiles, novels explicitly about libraries, readers, and the power of story. I have a read a couple and enjoyed them but I avoid such titles, for the most part. I much prefer when a book and reader are allowed to meet on their own terms and the former can unfold this theme itself without the hyped badge.
If you are a fan of such stories this book is perfect for you. Black Sunday presents the large and small stories captured in transatlantic and local histories, in global religions and local spirituality, in hills and animals, in a praise poem, in a name. I was mostly engrossed with this story about four Yoruba siblings, and how they grew up in the presence of much and the absence of much more. I am sorry the brothers' perspectives were left out at the end but otherwise this is both a measured and daunting debut work. Well done, Abraham. Full review forthcoming at The Book Slut.
With a novella in which the author's afterword is as restorative as the story that preceded it I am anxious for any kind of YA to adult fiction ElliotWith a novella in which the author's afterword is as restorative as the story that preceded it I am anxious for any kind of YA to adult fiction Elliott is willing to bestow. The image of Yeye Omo Eja rising from the waves to call the living and the dead home will remain with me for a long time. ...more
I picked this gem for #ReadingAfrica week. It was so much fun! You may be used to African classics--which often means Igbo authored for English peakerI picked this gem for #ReadingAfrica week. It was so much fun! You may be used to African classics--which often means Igbo authored for English peakers--being sombre postcolonial tales aimed at oppressions new and old; bildungsromans set among a war torn country; or whatever other kind of plot that convinces a publisher to submit it for the Man Booker.
This ain't that kind of book! Praise the Lord, Amen. (There's nothing wrong with the first kind of books. I love those books. But it's wonderful to read a book hailed as a classic that falls outside of those parameters.)
Tutuola was a Yoruba author, with Christian parents, known for basing his stories on Yoruba folktales. This translated into a short novel which moved easily between the world of the living and dead, in which nature's various aspects were personified deities, and the hero relied on God, gods, juju, and other spirits or creatures to achieve his quest.
What was this noble quest? Our hero was a drinkard. He loved palm wine. A lot. His father hired the best palm wine tapper around to keep his son and his friends saturated in the precious elixir. Calamity descended when gravity got the best of our tapper--you climb a palm tree to "tap" for the wine--and he fell to his death. Disaster! No other tapper satisfied his particular thirst, his friends side eyed him when greeted in public, life no longer had meaning. What could he do?
He could go to Deads' Town where the recently deceased abide and convince his tapper to return to a life of reputable service. It was the only option. What followed were dangerous, thrilling, often terrifying quests. Tutuola had a talent for imagining horrific creatures with multiple eyes and horns that grew out of hands ; lurking beasts with heads the size of elephants and fanged beaks. He could never be sure whether the next living being met on the road was a friend or a hungry-hungry carnivore. Sometimes the hero was smart and at other times laughably stupid. But the entertainment lasted to the very last page.
I listened to the Tales podcast episode on Sinbad the Sailor and The Palm-Wine Drinkard had a similar feel. Yuri Herrera's Signs Preceding the End of the World was another title that came to mind for its protagonist who made journeyed to her mythos' underworld, granted for a more sombre reason.
I highly recommend it. The pidgin may trip you up at first but it was easy to get into the rhythm. The writing style evoked the image of an expert story teller in front of a group capturing the audience's attention, making one feel like a friend. 4.5 stars....more
Emily Brontë wrote of violent, obsessive passion mired in the classism, sexism, xenophobia, and addiction in an English villaUpdate: January 23, 2019.
Emily Brontë wrote of violent, obsessive passion mired in the classism, sexism, xenophobia, and addiction in an English village backwater, contained in a favoured servant’s tongue. The slip to a tenant’s mean, self-involved mental energy served as no boon, no invigorative jolt to proceedings. If Wuthering Heights is the wind’s dull roar Windward Heights is the source.
In an inversion of this ordered system–the original and the retelling–Condé saw the dark moor and formed a Caribbean cosmos in 19th century Spanish Cuba, British Dominica and primarily in the French Guadeloupe islands: from Papaye nestled in the volcanic hillside to the arid soil and wind beaten razyés at Grand-Fonds-les-Mangles. Amongst this varied terrain Condé voiced a multitude: Nelly, Catherine, Razyé (the Heathcliff), his wife Irmine, her brother Catherine’s husband, their children, several named servants, politicians, and friends.
The basic story remains the same. Hubert Gagneur, “a tallow-coloured mulatto”, one day brought home a “little black boy or Indian half-caste”, and the story continues. What Brontë slyly hinted at Condé states baldly and in the loaded language of the time. Pretty much everything Wuthering Heights hinted at Windward saturates in technicolour: racism, classism, white feminism, misogynoir, sex, toxic masculinity, homosexuality, and even a few glances at genderqueerness.
I don’t know why we don’t hear and read more about this novel. It is glorious, messy, shocking, and explosive, with a narrative that strode beyond its predecessor’s confines into new spheres. If you considered historical fiction to be a soft genre meant to neatly carry you through specific highlights as you cry and tut tut at humanity’s cruelty before it ended with the usual bromides about love, family, and the resilient human spirit, drink the tea before you start this book. I don’t want you to mess up your copy.
You know the drill by now. Need to think about my written response. It basically blew Wuthering Heights out of the water, sky high. Don't even mention them in the same sentence unless it's to genuflect in front of Windward's messy (it is messy, I have questions) greatness....more
Perhaps my mistake was that I went in expecting a feminist satire. It's not. Beyond Ayoola's murderous acts every character is a boring, well-oiled coPerhaps my mistake was that I went in expecting a feminist satire. It's not. Beyond Ayoola's murderous acts every character is a boring, well-oiled cog in the patriarchal machine. Sisters are 4 ever as house girls are described as "scurrying" around the house and "unclean" janitors are sacrificed. One of the book's lowest points is when Korede describes her distraught mother as a "banshee" who looks even more unstable because her 'fro is out. A "medusa". Why hold back, throw in a "hysterical" to seal it up 🙄.
There is no narrative pushback to any of this. Without it the book needed more complexity to the characters' interiority, the relationships, and their societal context. It'll finish before you find it.
My favourite character is Muhtar who was in a coma for over 50% of the novel.
I think I was supposed to be excited just because they were killing some cishet dudes? I've read romantic suspense and paranormals for too long to find that dazzling.
Not worth rating. It wasn't terrible just boring and predictable....more
I admire it but I don't love it. Excellent integration of imagery and symbolism into thematic development. A writer's voice that made it easy for me tI admire it but I don't love it. Excellent integration of imagery and symbolism into thematic development. A writer's voice that made it easy for me to read even difficult sections. Great ending. But...
"I went along with her in all that she proposed we do, even if to me the gap between legend and reality was not one that my mind was prepared to leap across."
is the character in a nutshell and this became something I could only endure rather than make peace with.
Also, parts of the book were rather preachy and reminded me of one of my third form debates in English class. All for a good cause but I when a character's inner monologue has the air of an op ed I don't enjoy it....more
What a perfectly wonderful novella. It offers several brief but illuminating personality profiles of several characters with Morayo at the centre. YouWhat a perfectly wonderful novella. It offers several brief but illuminating personality profiles of several characters with Morayo at the centre. Your heart will glow as you learn more about Morayo--her verve, her sexiness, her empathetic open heartedness--and twist as you watch her fierce compromises with the realities of aging.
Manyika is exceptional at impressing characters on your psyche in just a few pages via soliloquoys or dialogues with another character, often Morayo. Whether it's a homeless woman in Morayo's area, the flower seller, or the substitute chef at a rehab centre, you'll end a brief passage wanting to be their friends, wanting to know more.
This is a book I would recommend to any and everyone. I'm keen to try Manyika's other works....more
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