“Lance the Brave stood on the edge of the cliff panicking, his long blond hair blowing in the breeze. Behind him, they were coming fast through the lush grassy field. All Lance could do was stare, his cheeks flushed. Once upon him, they would suck the life from his soul, like lions sucking meat from the bones of a fresh kill. He held his long sword high. Its silver handle was encrusted with heavy blue jewels and it felt so right in his hand.”

Book Review:

Review by Friederike Knabe  (MAR 23, 2014)

Nnedi Okorafor’s story collection Kabu Kabu, published in 2013, provides the reader with a fascinating glimpse into the author’s rich imagination, vibrant language and captivating scenarios. Created at different stages in her extensive writing career, Okorafor treats us to a range of intriguing characters and their adventures, skilfully (and successfully) combining elements of speculative fiction and fantasy with African folklore and magical realism, and yes, indeed, political and social present day issues. Many of her stories have been nominated, shortlisted and/or have won literary recognition and awards as have her novels.

Born in the US of Nigerian parents, Nnedi Okorafor developed strong ties to her parents’ home country since her childhood. Not surprisingly, her stories here are set in Nigeria – the real and the imagined society. In fact, Okorafor is a convincing advocate for African science fiction category of storytelling. It opens, among others, new avenues for creating future realities.

Admittedly, I am not usually a great fan of speculative fiction, yet, Okorafor has captured my attention and imagination, from the first story to the last – all twenty one of them. I particular enjoyed the character of Arro-yo, the “windseeker”, who appears in several somewhat linked stories. Arro-yo is an outcast in her community because she can capture the wind and fly. Okorafor expands with her stories on African folklore that singled out girls born with “locked hair” and who had special powers. They could bring misery and misfortune to their home and were therefore chased away. Arro-yo’s adventures in Okorafor’s stories are nonetheless anchored very much in reality, whether she is caught up in civil unrest or fears for her life for other reasons.

The title story, Kabu Kabu – the name for an unlicensed taxi – sets the reader up for a roller coaster of a ride. The protagonist, a young woman living in Chicago, needs to catch a plane to return to Nigeria for a wedding… a hilarious escapade and a great opening story for the adventures that follow in Africa… humorous at times, serious at others, yet always engaging and thought provoking. It would take too long to introduce other stories… just read them all. Whoopi Goldberg provides a motivating introduction to the book

AMAZON READER RATING:	from 5 readers
PUBLISHER:	Prime Books (October 2, 2013)
REVIEWER:	Friederike Knabe
AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE BOOK?	YES! Start Reading Now!
AUTHOR WEBSITE:	Nnedi Okorafor Wikipedia page on Nnedi Okorafor
EXTRAS:	More on this book
MORE ON MOSTLYFICTION:	Read our review of: Who Fears Death

Bibliography:

• Who Fears Death (June 2010)
• Kabu Kabu: Stories (October 2013)
• Lagoon (2014)
• The Book of Phoenix (2014)
• The Man

Young Adult:

• Zahrah the Windseeker (2005)
• The Shadow Speaker (2007)

Children’s:

• Long JuJu Man (2009)
• Akata Witch (2011)
• Iridessa and the Secret of the Never Mine (2012)

“And she had ignored, too, the cement in her soul. Her blog was doing well, with thousands of unique visitors each month, and she was earning good speaking fees, and she had a fellowship at Princeton and a relationship with Blaine—“ You are the absolute love of my life,” he’d written in her last birthday card— and yet there was cement in her soul. It had been there for a while, an early morning disease of fatigue, a bleakness and borderlessness. It brought with it amorphous longings, shapeless desires, brief imaginary glints of other lives she could be living, that over the months melded into a piercing homesickness.”

Book Review:

Review by Bonnie Brody  (MAR 15, 2014)

Americanah is a wonderful epic saga of love, hair, blogs, racism in America, and life in Nigeria. It takes place over a period of about 15 years and is primarily about a Nigerian woman named Ifemelu and her first love, Obinze. The meaning of the word Americanah is a person who returns to Nigeria after spending time abroad.

The main part of the story takes place in a hair salon in Trenton, New Jersey. Ifemelu is on a fellowship at Princeton and the nearest place to get weaves is in Trenton. As she is getting her hair done she goes back in time and the reader gets filled in with her life story.

Ifemelu grew up in poverty in Lagos. She managed to go to university there and won a scholarship to Wellson, a college in Philadelphia. She struggles with money and finds it very difficult to get a job. When she does work, she sends money back home to her parents. Ifemulu’s primary job is as a nanny. She describes the dynamics of her employer’s marriage as “she loves him and he loves himself.” She is introduced to her employer’s cousin Curt and Ifemelu and he have a relationship for quite a while. His being white and rich cause some difficulties for them.

Ifemelu cuts off all contact with Obinze despite the fact that they had planned to be together. She had made a choice to do something that left her shamed and abased and she is unable to tell Obinze about it. So, rather than tell him, she severs their contact. He is distraught and does not know what to do. He continues to write to her for months but there is no answer from Ifemelu.

Meanwhile, Obinze goes to London where he lives underground after his six month visa expires. He is working construction and continues to do this until he is deported back to Nigeria.

Ifemelu remains in the United States for 13 years and has a series of relationships with different men. Of significance besides Curt, who is white, is Blaine who is African American and a professor at Yale. Theirs is a long-term relationship that Ifemelu breaks off in order to return to Lagos.

Ifemelu has started a blog called “Raceteenth: Understanding America for the non-American black.” She writes anonymously about varied topics of racism that she encounters in the United States and the differences between being African American and a non-American black person. Her blog is very successful and brings her status and money as people make financial contributions to keep the blog going. She also does speaking engagements about topics she covers in her blog.

The book has many characters in it, each of whom we come to know and connect with. However, it is primarily about Ifemelu and Obinze, their lives and love. I found the book fascinating and very readable. It does not ever let go of the messages that the author seeks to provide the reader. Racism is a constant theme in the book as is life in America for black Americans and non-American blacks. I found the theme of blogging as a way to share knowledge very intriguing. Actual blogs are a part of the book.

Adiche is a wonderful writer. Her short stories, all of which I’ve read, have knocked me out. I plan on reading her other novels. I can see why this brilliant woman has received a MacArthur Genius Award.   Highly recommended

AMAZON READER RATING:	from 511 readers
PUBLISHER:	Anchor; Reprint edition (March 4, 2014)
REVIEWER:	Bonnie Brody
AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE BOOK?	YES! Start Reading Now!
AUTHOR WEBSITE:	Wikipedia page on Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie The Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie website
EXTRAS:	Excerpt
MORE ON MOSTLYFICTION:	Read our review of: The Thing Around Your Neck: Stories Purple Hibiscus

Bibliography:

• Purple Hibiscus (2003)
• Half a Yellow Sun (2006)
• The Thing Around Your Neck: Stories (2009)
• Americanah (May 2013) 

“All he knew with sure was that his thoughts now converged around the idea of flying home to Nigeria to spirit away Ngene and sell the deity to Mr. Gruels. At first, the thought had scandalized him. He had tried to rebuke himself; he upbraided himself in all the stern silent languages he knew. In spite of his effort, he had found the temptation impossible to shake off. His waking hours were now often preoccupied with speculating what price the deity might command? He peered into what he always took to be his soul. He reminded himself how unlike him it was to peel away at all considerations until all that remained was the vulgar question of dollars and cents. Still his resolve was unyielding.”

Book Review:

Review by Bonnie Brody  (FEB 15, 2014)

Foreign Gods Inc. by Ndibe is one of those rare books that has you laughing and crying at different intervals. It is well-written, excellently characterized and the story line is near perfect. I enjoyed this reading experience immensely.

Ike (pronounced E-Kay) is a Nigerian in America, a graduate of the elite Amherst College who has been driving cab in New York City for thirteen years because he can not get a job despite graduating cum laude and majoring in economics. He is told at job interview after job interview that his accent is too thick and he is not a good candidate for a public relations or financial position. He is at his wits end. His bills are overdue, his ex has taken him for everything he has, and he is now up to his ears in gambling debts.

As the book opens, Ike has the idea of going to a gallery called Foreign Gods Inc. and trying to sell them a statue, one that resides in his home village of Utonki. The statue is of the God of War, Ngene, a powerful god of war that served his people for centuries. At this time, Ike’s uncle is its protector. Ike believes that Negene is very powerful and will get him hundreds of thousands of dollars and take him out of debt. His mother has been begging him for money as has his sister. He has not sent them any support money for years.

Ike talks to Mark Gruel, the owner of Foreign Gods Inc. who tells Ike that he must bring the statue to him before he can tell how much it is worth. Ike decides to go back to his hometown in Nigeria and steal the statue and bring it back to New York. It is in Nigeria that a comedy of errors occurs and the reader is given the amazing history of the old and new Nigeria, the collision of the christian beliefs with the traditional religion. Ike is caught in the middle and ultimately we are left to wonder “Did he have the guts to snatch the statue of Ngene and sell it?”

The story unwinds slowly and resolutely, leading the reader from New York to Nigeria and back to New York again. We follow Ike with all of his conflicting beliefs and moral ambiguity. He is a complex and intelligent man trying to make a life for himself and for his family, while at the same time that life may end up destroying the very family he is trying to save.

AMAZON READER RATING:	from 18 readers
PUBLISHER:	Soho Press (January 14, 2014)
REVIEWER:	Bonnie Brody
AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE BOOK?	YES! Start Reading Now!
AUTHOR WEBSITE:	Okey Ndibe
EXTRAS:	Excerpt
MORE ON MOSTLYFICTION:	Read our review of: The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives by Lola Shoneyin

Bibliography:

• Foreign Gods, Inc. (January 2014)

“Happiness is like water…We’re always trying to grab onto it, but it’s always slipping between our fingers.”

Book Review:

Review by Friederike Knabe  (JAN 12, 2014)

Chinelo Okparanta came to my attention after her story, America, was a finalist for the 2013 Caine Prize for African Writing. It tells the touching story of a very special friendship between two young women that challenges Nigerian traditions and social conventions… America has been published as one of ten stories in this, her first collection, Happiness, like Water. Okparanta is without a doubt becoming a promising representative of the new generation of Nigerian and African writers who are giving growing prominence to the field of African short fiction writing.

Chinelo Okparanta’s engaging stories in this book, some set in Nigeria, some among Nigerian immigrants in the US, explore a wide range of topical subjects and concerns. Mostly told through the eyes of a first person protagonist, she writes with confidence and sensitivity, her language is subtle, yet also lucid and powerful. Despite the short fiction format, her characters are realistically drawn and we can comprehend the challenges of their various circumstances. While her stories are rooted in her Nigerian background (she moved with her parents from Nigeria to the US at the age of 10) she addresses such issues as love, longing and betrayal, faith and doubt, and inner-family and inter-generational tensions and violence in such a way that they move beyond the specific and become stories of human struggle and survival. Yes, there is happiness too – fleeting moments that need to be savoured, hope for a future where it can establish itself…

Do I have favourites among the stories? Maybe I do, but each reader will find those that feel closer to home or that affect us individually more deeply than others. Fortunately, I don’t have to choose.

AMAZON READER RATING:	from 24 readers
PUBLISHER:	Mariner Books; 1 edition (August 13, 2013)
REVIEWER:	Friederike Knabe
AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE BOOK?	YES! Start Reading Now!
AUTHOR WEBSITE:	Granta page on Chinelo Okparanta
EXTRAS:	Excerpt
MORE ON MOSTLYFICTION:	Another collection of short stories: That Thing Around Your Neck by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Too Much Happiness by Alice Munro

Bibliography:

• Happiness, Like Water (August 2013)

“When Baba Segi awoke with a bellyache for the sixth day in a row, he knew it was time to do something drastic about his fourth wife’s childlessness. He was sure the pain wasn’t caused by hunger or trapped gas; it was from the buildup of months and months of of worry. A grunt escaped from the woman lying next to him. He glanced sideways and saw that his leg had stapled Iya Tope, his second wife, to the bed.He observed the jerky rise and fall of her bosom but he didn’t move to ease her discomfort. His thoughts returned to Bolanle and his stomach tightened again. Then and there, he decided to pay Teacher a visit. He would get there at sunrise so Teacher would know it was no ordinary stopover.”

Book Review:

Review by Friederike Knabe (DEC 20, 2013)

Ishola Alao, known as Baba Segi, has a problem that upsets his stomach and general well-being. After two years of trying, his fourth wife still does not show any signs of being pregnant. He already has a stable of kids with his other wives, but what is the use of another marriage if it doesn’t give him more offspring? Furthermore, his young wife, “the graduate,” has been creating unease and tension between his other wives. It is really beyond him to understand what the reason could be, given that he is sharing his favours equally among the women. Something has to be done about his “barren” wife and all else will sort itself out after that. Or does it?

Nigerian author Lola Shoneyin was a well-known poet and short story writer by the time her debut novel, The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives, was published in 2009. It immediately won several awards and was also long listed for the 2011 Orange Prize. As the title and my short introduction suggests, the novel takes an intimate look at a life in a polygamous family in modern Nigeria. Drawing on her own in-depth knowledge of the issues, Shoneyin writes with great confidence making this novel a very engaging and authentic read. She harmoniously combines humour and irony with empathy and sensitivity in her vivid depiction of the central characters and the circumstances they find themselves in. The reader is taken inside the complicated day-to-day of such living arrangements and, quite naturally, we also gain insights into the very difficult underlying societal issues of traditional gender relations and economic inequalities.

Bolanle, the young educated fourth wife is the central figure of this fast moving and highly absorbing tale: her introduction into the household sets off a series of events and revelations that have repercussions nobody could have anticipated. What is predictable is that her arrival does not go down well with the three established wives and mothers of Baba Segi’s children. Iya Segi, the “mother of the household” has had until now a very good handle on everything and managed the second wife, Iya Tope, and the third, Iya Femi pretty well (each named after her first-born child). Now with the intruder among them jealousy, insecurities, favouritism and disruption of their established group dynamics take over the daily life. One expresses what the three feel: “These educated types have thin skins; they are like pigeons. If we poke her with a stick, she will fly away and leave our home in peace”  On her side, Bolanle does not really understand the inner workings of the household and adds to the difficulties.

Rather than telling the story from one – external – perspective, Shoneyin gives each protagonist a distinct voice to tell her/his own backstory and in other chapters reveal their respective views on the unfolding dramatic events in the household. As readers we can appreciate their very different upbringing and circumstances that led them to marry into Baba Segi’s household. We can even develop some empathy with Baba Segi himself, a man whose life has not been easy and has bound him deeply to the traditions of his social environment. All in all a very satisfying read: lively, personal and also educational in giving the reader a glimpse into the challenges faced by societies developing from tradition to modern, from rural to urban life.

AMAZON READER RATING:	from 60 readers
PUBLISHER:	William Morrow; 1 edition (June 29, 2010)
REVIEWER:	Friederike Knabe
AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE BOOK?	YES! Start Reading Now!
AUTHOR WEBSITE:	Wikipedia page on Lola Shoneyin
EXTRAS:	Reading Guide
MORE ON MOSTLYFICTION:	Another Nigerian author: The Thing Around Your Neck by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Bibliography:

• The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives (2009; 2010 in US)

“The more Chike saw the ferryboats the more he wanted to make the trip to Asaba. But where would he get the money? He did not know. Still, he hoped. “One day is one day,” he said, meaning that one day he would make the journey, come what may.”

Book Review:

Review by Friederike Knabe  AUG 23, 2011)

Chike is Chinua Achebe’s young hero in this gentle, touching story of an eleven-year-old Nigerian boy who has to leave his village in order to continue his schooling in the big city on the shores of the mighty Niger River. It is a charming tale about finding your way in a totally new environment and learning some important life lessons about loyalty, honesty, courage and the strength and limits of dreams. Originally published in 1966 this slim volume has been reissued in a very attractive presentation, fitting beautifully into the publisher’s Achebe publication series, standing out in their stark traditional colours of ochre red, ivory-pale yellow and black, with simple, wood cuts-style images throughout the text. Best known for his first novel, Things Fall Apart, published in 1958, Chinua Achebe is revered as the father of the African novel and and THE standard for African fiction writing.

In a few simple sentences, Achebe captures both Chike’s happy childhood in the village of Umuofia and his mother’s struggle to make ends meet and to keep him and his two sisters in school. When Chike is told one day that he will be living with his uncle in the big city of Onitsha to continue his schooling, he is excited. Yet, his first impressions of life in Onitsha are filled with confusion: “He could not say who was a thief or kidnapper and who was not. In Umuofia every thief was known, but here even people who lived under the same roof were strangers to each other…” His uncle is very strict with him and Chike finds easier companionship with his uncle’s servant, Michael and his new school friends.

With ease Achebe describes this new world from the boy’s perspective. His friend Samuel tells him how “easy” it is to cross the River Niger by ferry, it only costs one shilling for the return trip. From that moment on, Chike dreams of taking the ferry to the other side of the wide delta and to the much more exciting city of Asaba. But Chike has no money, his uncle having refused to give him any. We can follow the ups and downs of Chike’s search for that one shilling he needs – from finding a sixpence piece, to losing half of it to finding out the hard way that magicians who claim to double your money are not to be trusted. While very specific in its setting, Achebe’s story is universal in its messages.

A great story teller, who is deeply attached to his people’s traditions and values, Chinua Achebe is also a committed educator. In this relatively uncomplicated story he conveys, nonetheless, atmosphere and day-to-day reality of both, rural and urban, African life, illustrated by his comparisons of Umuofia and Onitsha. While written more than forty years ago, much of the underlying issues and realities are still relevant today in African countries and elsewhere. Children are still sent off to relatives who can better afford to look after them and their education. Children still feel lonely and lost in new environments and align themselves to real or false friends. They still yearn as much to travel to places they have dreamed of or can even see in the distance, on the other side of a river… and get themselves into potential trouble for taking such an initiative into their own inexperienced hands. Achebe writes in a gentle, warm and caring way about Chike and his environment, about the severe uncle who could have been a bit more understanding and generous. He brings out the possible temptations and the pitfalls that a young boy can fall into – before he learns his lessons and, of course he does succeed in the end.

Is this a book for children? Yes and no. While usually categorized as a children’s story, I wonder how much young readers in our society would appreciate this for what it is: as much a social portrait and introduction into another society and culture as it is a growing up story with lessons that are important as they are timeless. I prefer to describe Chike and the River as a story for “children of all ages”; those who have remained young at heart will enjoy this tale. And as many of us readers have young people in their closer or wider family, we might also like to share it with children around us. There is much to talk about in this book that both informs about life in an African country and, as well, much that transcends our respective cultures.

AMAZON READER RATING:	from 2 readers
PUBLISHER:	Anchor; Original edition (August 9, 2011)
REVIEWER:	Friederike Knabe
AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE BOOK?	YES! Start Reading Now!
AUTHOR WEBSITE:	Chinua Achebe
EXTRAS:	Excerpt
MORE ON MOSTLYFICTION:	Read our review of: Suddenly in the Depths of the Forest by Amos Oz

Bibliography:

• Things Fall Apart (1958)
• No Longer At Ease (1960)
• Arrow of God (1964)
• A Man of the People (1966)
• Girls at War And Other Stories (1973)
• Anthills of the Savannah (1987)

Nonfiction:

• Hopes and Impediments (1988)
• The Trouble with Nigeria (1994)
• Home and Exile (2000)
• Education of a British Protected Child (2009)
• Hopes and Impediments (1988)
• There Was A Country: A Personal History of Biafra (October 2012)

Children’s Books:

• Chike and the River (1966; August 2011)
• How the Leopard Got His Claws (1972)
• The Flute (1975)
• The Drum (1978)

“Silent were the skies. Silent the soldiers, inched under the soil. Silent too the burned bodies, heaped in cinders…Silent the guns. Silent the wasted cavalcade of men, women and children, as they journeyed, blind, toward their homes. Silent too the fires that had burned down the cities. Silent the gas chambers…Silent the seed thrust toward the egg.”

Book Review:

Review by Betsey Van Horn  AUG 16, 2011)

Evie Steppman’s mammoth ears are a repository of history, memory, and time. She was born unnamed to British parents in Lagos, Nigeria, during the end of British colonial rule (1946), and, now in her fifties, she is chronicling her story and the stories of various individuals from a collection of documents, letters, diaries, pamphlets, photographs, and assorted, emotionally powerful objects, or “unica” (one-of-a-kind objects).

Evie suffers from severe tinnitus (which resembles Ménière’s disease), and, isolated in an attic in Eastern Scotland, is anxious to record these memories before she is engulfed by the din in her head. Her gifted and telepathic sense of hearing is analogous to Saleem’s prophetic olfactory organ in Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children.

“My ears were extraordinary. Crimson, membranous, graced with heavy lobes, they whorled their way into the hollow where ciliary movement stirred, absorbing the sounds…All my talent had gone into the development of my ears.”

Like Rushdie, Williams uses polyphonic diversity of voice and magical realism to tell a story of ordinary people living during extraordinary times. But whereas Saleem is born precisely at the stroke of midnight during the birth of a nation, Evie’s birth is a tragic affair. Clinging to her mother’s womb, she coveted her life inside the amniotic chamber, where her acute sense of hearing began. Evie delayed her own birth by two months, subsequently ending her mother’s life.

“…the vicious spitting of feral cats, rugbeaters thwacking, fat goats being led to market…women pounding manioc. I heard the punishing of boy thieves…My hearing was demotic and unprincipled.”

The sounds that came to Evie through the echo chamber of the womb resembled a phonograph’s–separating sound from its object, storing them until they were ready to be replayed. Her father’s voice, as he read Dickens, Darwin, Oscar Wilde’s fairy tales, Treasure Island, and the Lord’s Prayer, was muted and flat through amniotic fluid, but permanently recorded.

The tick-tock of father’s pocket watch was steady and continuous, as was the sound of the sea outside. Evie learned opposites and contrasts—that East and West repelled each other, that Cat and Sparrow were “coupled in mutual hate.”

Evie’s audition is also temporally transcendent—she hears through time and space, as if her hearing materialized from the primordial steam that saturated her with timeless tutoring of the past and present. As well as binding her to history, her ears have yoked her to ancient myths and fables.

The story is a non-linear journey, but is cohesively braided through the channels of Evie’s aural migrations — through empire, war, genocide, independence, and a glam rock tour through the US, David Bowie-style. We are also introduced to Evie’s remarkable mother; her grandfather, an elderly, delusional man whose fantasies of Frankensteinian prowess would make Mary Shelley raise an eyebrow; and to Evie’s ardent, emotionally charged, and life-altering love affair with an enigmatic actress, Damaris.

A key event underground with the nightsoil workers is a literary triumph of compassion and imagination, a vivid, hallucinatory examination of humanity through those forgotten and marginalized souls.

Williams seamlessly controls the disclosure of multiple events, with the penultimate, harrowing scene singularly expressed through a letter from Evie’s childhood friend, Ade. Ade was a native of Lagos, the scrappy son of Iffe, (a theatrical onion seller who Evie adored), and her constant companion in the Jankara marketplace and city streets, until a wretched misunderstanding divided them. It was also during her sixth year of life, while with Ade, that the genesis of Evie’s name is born.

Lagos is an allegory to Evie’s birth, a place that had grown out of the water. This duality of land and water euphemized Evie’s ability to inhabit more than one “world,” through her towering perspicacity of audition.

The Echo Chamber is both a subtle and outrageous novel that echoes other novels– a pastiche and synthesis of luminaries, such as Isaac Babel, Robert Louis Stevenson, Bruno Schulz, Georges Perec, and others who are interwoven to buttress the story. For example, Evie’s attic life reflects The Street of Crocodiles protagonist, Theodore, listening to the vibrant gusts of air through the rafters, the bellows and inhalation of the wind. There are a staggering number of motifs, metaphors, and allegories, which begs a second reading, just as complex music demands repeated immersion.

The novel’s strength of character is matched by its astonishing assortment of objects that tell their own stories, such as an alleged ancient map, the mappa mundi, and its mythical “monstrous races,” one of the most piquant images of the story. The picture on the map of a pelican is so evocative and shattering in its nuance that it will likely be embedded in the reader’s mind eternally.

This review would not be complete without mentioning that the diary of Evie’s lover, Damaris, is penned by Luke Williams’ friend, Natasha Soobramanien. These two chapters are electrifying and immediately felt, removing a bit of the 19th-century fustiness that sometimes injects the narrative and gracing it with impetuous vigor. Moreover, the gap that the reader feels at times with Evie is closed, the distance removed.

Enter this splendid realm of objects and stories, this auricular theater of sound, the emptiness of silence, the chamber of echoes.

AMAZON READER RATING:	from 2 readers
PUBLISHER:	Viking Adult (August 4, 2011)
REVIEWER:	Betsey Van Horn
AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE BOOK?	YES! Start Reading Now!
AUTHOR WEBSITE:	Bookgasm interview with Luke Williams
EXTRAS:	Excerpt
MORE ON MOSTLYFICTION:	Read our review of: Deafening by Frances Itani

Bibliography:

• The Echo Chamber (August 2011)

“The very thought of turning back made me realize how barren, how diminished life would be after the excitement of the past few days, and as we went deeper and deeper upriver, and farther and farther away from the sea, I made no move to stop. I felt hope and doubt alternating in my chest. I felt a stirring of some hunger inside me, something I had never felt before, a conviction, almost, that I was meant to be here, on this boat, on this trail. It was like a breeze blowing through some long-forgotten section of my mind. ”

Book Review:

Review by Friederike Knabe  (MAY 16, 2011)

Rufus, a young journalist on his first major assignment, travels into the troubled oil-rich Nigerian Delta, hoping to land his breakthrough news story: interviewing the kidnappers of a British oil engineer’s wife and meeting the captive. The dangers lurking among the oilfields and the pipelines that meander snake-like across the Delta’s waters cannot deter him, especially as he is in the company of his much-admired former mentor, the erstwhile prominent reporter, Zaq. Helon Habila’s new novel, Oil on Water is a confidently crafted and absorbing, in parts totally gripping, chronicle of human ambitions, tragedies and failures, but also of love, friendship and perseverance of the human spirit. Evoking the rich and beautiful yet fragile environment of the Delta, that is slowly being devastated by the greed for oil and money, Habila gently guides his different narrative strands into a poignant story that is profoundly personal even where these raise broader political and societal concerns.

Habila weaves his story in a non-chronological way: it flows back and forth in time, reflecting the reporters’ meandering voyage through the vast intricate river delta. For example, we first meet Rufus and Zaq on the ninth day of their quest. In flashbacks we learn about their back stories and, over time, that of other memorable characters. Past events are hinted at early on, such as suggesting that they had been part of a journalists’ group, responding to the invitation of the kidnappers. But evidently, things had gone wrong and the two are now on their own, in a slow canoe, dependent on a local fisherman and his young son to find a safe place to stay while charting their next steps. Zaq, in a reflective mood advises the much younger Rufus: ” Forget the woman and her kidnappers for a moment. What we really seek is not them but a greater meaning. Remember, the story is not the final goal… ” However, their quiet time, hiding among the mangroves and later on a very special island of worshippers, is suddenly interrupted and they are caught in the middle of the conflict. They have to leave their observer role behind and use all their talents to stay alive…

Observing events through Rufus’s eyes and mind, the author takes us behind the news headlines and deep into the complicated quagmire of the violent conflict between the opposing sides and their claims for oil, land and control. Emotions run high, suspicions and fear are constant companions. Not only are deadly accidents common from fires and illegally tapped oil pipes, the local military units, tasked with protecting the oil business’s interests, are known for excessive, vicious force when confronted by any type of resistance, passive or not. The militant “rebels” also have a reputation of violence and kidnapping as a means to raise the money for their ongoing struggle against the government authorities and the oil companies. The local population of fishermen and farmers, with memories of a simpler and healthier life and happier times, are caught in the middle, but also tempted by promised riches from the oil wells on their shores.

Habila is an accomplished storyteller as well as a poet, having won numerous awards in both fields. His imagery is vivid, at times cinematographic and his lyrical language comes to the fore in particular when he connects the reader with the atmospheric seascapes of the Delta:

“Midriver the water was clear and mobile, but toward the banks it turned brackish and still, trapped by mangroves in whose branches the mist hung in clumps like cotton balls. Ahead of us the mist arched clear over the water like a bridge, our light wooden canoe would be so enveloped in the dense gray stuff that we couldn’t see each other as we glided silently over the water.”

Despite the oftentimes violent events that Habila describes, he softens their impact with his sensitive characterization of people, who rarely are totally evil or totally good, they are human beings. Nothing is taken as stark black or white. In a less rounded and skilled storyteller, the underlying important theme of the novel could have succumbed to the danger of taking on a didactic preaching tone. Not so. While Habila has definite deep concerns on his mind he never allows these to take over or skew the balance in this richly imagined human interest story. To me, the late writer and journalist Ken Saro Wiva, the human rights activist and, until his execution in 1995, foremost non-violent defender of the rights of the indigenous Delta populations comes to mind as a likely and strong inspiration for Habila. Indeed, the author’s important, multi-layered and thought provoking novel is a worthy tribute to the memory of Saro-Wiva. Some commentators have referred to Habila’s novel as a modern-day version of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. I find that surprising; as for me, hardly any parallels exist and placing the two novel into the same category would be misleading on both accounts.

AMAZON READER RATING:	from 4 readers
PUBLISHER:	W. W. Norton & Company; Reprint edition (May 16, 2011)
REVIEWER:	Friederike Knabe
AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE BOOK?	YES! Start Reading Now!
AUTHOR WEBSITE:	Helon Habila
EXTRAS:	Excerpt
MORE ON MOSTLYFICTION:	Read our review of: Waiting for an Angel

Bibliography:

• Waiting for an Angel (2003)  Commonwealth Prize
• Measuring Time (2007)
• Oil on Water (2010; May 2011)

“Her son had been killed, that was all she would say.  Killed. Nothing about how his laughter started somehow above his head, high and tinkly.  How he called sweets ‘breadie-breadie.’  How he grasped her neck tight when she held him. How her husband said that he would be an artist because he didn’t try to build with his LEGO blocks but instead he arranged them, side by side, alternating colors. They did not deserve to know.”

Book Review:

Review by Bonnie Brody (AUG 29, 2010)

A collection of short stories is one of my favorite genres for reading. It is rare to find a book of short stories that is consistent in quality. When I do, it is a rare gift. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s The Thing Around Your Neck is just such a gift. It consists of stories about Nigeria and the United States, focusing on the clash of cultures and the cultural misunderstandings and prejudices that the protagonists face. This book also includes the short story that I consider my all-time favorite – “The Headstrong Historian.” I read it for the third time in this collection. I first read it in The New Yorker, then in the Pen/O’Henry Prize Stories of 2010. It gets better each time I read it.

“The Headstrong Historian” takes us to Nigeria where we meet Ngwambe. She is a woman who believes in the culture of her tribe but is also strong enough to stand up against it if necessary. Ngwambe “is a strong-willed woman hemmed in by custom and circumstance, whose beloved son betrays her in an unimaginable way.” Nqwambe is widowed early and grieves the loss of her beloved husband. Despite her son’s betrayal, the betrayal of her husband’s brothers, and her search for ways to keep her culture alive during a time when colonization and “Christianizing the heathens” is booming, Ngwambe carries on. This story speaks to the strength of marital and inter-generational love and the power of a strong woman.

“A Private Experience” focuses on the clash between science and the old ways.  A retired professor of mathematics has not received his retirement pension in over three years due to government corruption.  While on campus to check once again to see if his pension monies have arrived, he runs into a man who may or may not be a ghost.  They discuss the Biafran war of 1970.  The professor thinks about his beloved wife who died a few years ago and who visits him regularly, more in the dry season than during the rainy one.  The professor lives in two worlds, the world of mathematics and science and in the old belief system of his people.

“On Monday of Last Week” is about Kamara, an educated African worker who comes to the United States to be reunited with her boyfriend after six years apart. Things are awkward between them.  Kamara takes a job as a childcare worker.  Her boyfriend’s mother is an artist, an elusive and spectral figure.  Once Kamara meets her, she asks Kamara about nude modeling.  Kamara gives this careful thought and when she returns to the house she says yes, thinking this is a special offer just for her.  However, it is a seductive come-on, used for most women who enter the house. Kamara feels heartbreak and shame.

The title story, “The Thing Around Your Neck” is an extraordinarily beautiful tale about an Igbu girl from Lagos who wins a Visa to the United States “where everyone has a house, a car and a gun.”  She goes to live with her aunt and uncle but leaves because her uncle makes inappropriate sexual advances towards her. As an excuse for his behavior, he tells her that the U.S. is a place of give and take.  She ends up in Connecticut, bitter and perspicaciously observant of American culture.  She sends money to her family but not letters.  The thing around her neck is tight when she tries to sleep but loosens once she’s in a relationship with a college boy.  The clash of cultures and the loneliness that comes on its tail is painful to read about.

In “The American Embassy,” a woman has lost her son to soldiers as a result of her journalist husband’s anti-government article.  She is waiting in line at the U.S. embassy to seek political asylum in the U.S.  While in line, she reminisces about her marriage, her son, and the events leading to her son’s death.  When it finally comes time for her to be interviewed by a U.S. embassy employee, she is unable to recount the political events leading up to her son’s death.  She feels she would be using her son’s death to her own advantage.  Towards the end of the interview, she turns around and walks out.

The book contains twelve stories, all top-notch and all dealing with the convergence of cultures, usually the United States and Nigeria.  Adiche writes so beautifully that I can not read her stories just once.  Painful though they are, I can see myself reading them again and again.  She gets the human predicament, especially the predicament of the poor, those with no options, and the contradictions between old beliefs and new ones.  She is also able to see the false beliefs that people take on when they think they are acculturated or part of the larger society.  She knows they are still outside looking in, and always will be.

AMAZON READER RATING:	from 55 readers
PUBLISHER:	Anchor; 1 edition (June 1, 2010)
REVIEWER:	Bonnie Brody
AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE BOOK?	YES! Start Reading Now!
AUTHOR WEBSITE:	Wikipedia page on Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie The Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie website
EXTRAS:	Excerpt Official site for Half a Yellow Sun
MORE ON MOSTLYFICTION:	Read our review of: Americanah Purple Hibiscus Pen O’Henry Prize Stories 2010

Bibliography:

• Purple Hibiscus (2003)
• Half a Yellow Sun (2006)
• The Thing Around Your Neck: Stories (2009)
• Americanah (May 2013)

“I sat at my bedroom window after I changed; the cashew tree was so close I could reach out and pluck a leaf if it were not for the silver-coloured crisscross of mosquito netting. The bell-shaped yellow fruits hung lazily, drawing buzzing bees that bumped against my window’s netting.”

Book Review:

Review by Vesna McMaster (AUG 29, 2010)

From the first few pages this novel leaves no room for doubt as to how the narrative will unfold: the struggle of the “outside” and more natural world against that of domestic oppression and enforced sterility. As the book opens with a domestic crisis which overwhelms the narrator in its almost silent enormity, she retreats to her room.

The netting in the above quote is the perfect simile for the walls and boundaries, real and invisible, which surround the narrator. Whom do they keep out, and whom do they keep in? In an instant, we know from this passage alone that although they may keep the mosquitoes out, they also enforce a separation between the narrator and the leaves and bees: a separation decidedly unwelcome.

I found it extraordinary that the message was so clarion, as both the novel’s physical setting (post-coup Nigeria) and spiritual setting (stringently Catholic) are subjects I am personally completely unfamiliar with. I felt I ought to be reading the book with a full-scale guidebook to Africa, so laden is it with unknown phrases and concepts, scents, sounds and sights. It is proof of the superb writing that the unfamiliar and the unknown are in no way alienating, but entirely tantalising in a heady, spicy, dusty mix, making the uninitiated want to touch, taste and feel what the words set before us.

The narrator is Kambili Achike, a girl born to a wealthy family headed by her despotic and sadistic father, Eugene. Her fellow sufferers within the house walls are her mother Beatrice and her brother Jaja. Eugene is well respected within the community: he donates money to churches and the poor, he runs a politically subversive newspaper at tangible physical danger to himself and is seen as no less than a hero. At home he enforces his will on the inmates of the house without a chink of mercy, and with the help of torture and battery at regular intervals.

When the two children manage to escape from the immediate clutches of the household for a short while to Eugene’s sister, Aunty Ifeoma’s residence, the wheels of change start to turn. Ifeoma’s household is an almost pantomime foil to Eugene’s; they are poor but liberated, they have fun. Once they have put the initial chips into the glass coating that keeps the children from admitting their abuse to anyone (including themselves, mostly), there is no return and Eugene’s family starts to disintegrate.

While the physical world and settings may be unfamiliar to many readers, the central core of sadistic domestic abuse and subjugation transcends all cultural boundaries in its immediacy and intimacy. The psychological bullying from her father produces palpable physical effects on the narrator – she develops a fever in response to a crisis, or her legs feel “loose-jointed.”  When she gleans some approval, the joy and relief are also physically palpable: her mouth feels “full of melting sugar;” the abused’s gratitude for sops of “kindness’ shown to them by their abusers. The problems of the nuclear family are mirrored in the larger world, with the omnipotent bullies in power invading every waking and sleeping moment of their subjects, exerting almost complete control.

There is no doubt that in reaching an international audience, Adichie is acutely aware that many of her readers will be as unfamiliar with the Nigerian element (which is the core of the book) as I am. By an impasto technique with the symbolism and parallels, Adichie counters this problem by explaining the state within the country with reference to the domestic situation.

Both nature and the social structure join forces in elucidation. The sadistic “Papa” is the drying, dust-covering Harmattan wind, the (typically female) positive forces have moisture-laden imagery – again, juxtaposing sterility and fertility. This is a central theme both in the family life and at the State level. The narrator’s mother faces possible divorce and destitution for producing insufficient children, but the fault of this lies with her husband Eugene and his physical battering of his ever-pregnant wife.

One aspect that has been noted to be omni-present in this book is the prevalence of food. Its smells, textures, preparation, effect, quality, quantity, power, implications; some readers find it overwhelming. This insistence is directly tied to the sterility/fertility male/female theme. In Eugene’s wealthy household, food is plentiful and good, but there is no contact with the preparation of it, no knowledge of where it comes from. By contrast in the poor household of Aunt Ifeoma, food is scarce and takes a lot of time and effort both to procure and prepare, but appears to be relished more. (No prizes for guessing which is portrayed as the happier state). Most importantly, the enforced separation which the narrator has endured at home from the “womanly” dealing with food is shown as a type of disabling, a condition that debilitates, a sort of castration of abilities. Learning about food empowers the narrator much more than merely to the extent of being handy in the kitchen. It is as if her whole outlook on life changes (albeit incrementally) by learning how to peel a vegetable properly. In peeling it, she learns how to peel herself, to remove the casing to just the right degree.

This brings us back to the walls and boundaries we started off with. The uncrossable boundaries of the family life are admitting to the tyranny and abuse that is being inflicted. The narrator and her brother “speak with their eyes” to each other, as they dare not speak otherwise. As the status quo in the household starts to dissolve under the influence of external forces like Aunty Ifoema and Father Amadi, this method of communication becomes jammed, blocked. The change that heralds this blockage is one for the positive, but it involves great pain. The implication is that this pain cannot be avoided, nor will it ever be eradicated.

Here, we are taken back to the implied view on Nigerian politics Adichie is making. Kambili is not the only protagonist forced to embrace change. When the inspirational Aunty Ifeoma herself is targeted as a trouble-maker by the University authorities, she is extremely reluctant to leave the country which she loves but which tortures her, in favour of an alien one that will offer relative sanctuary from persecution. The argument is mooted in the household: if all the brains leave, who’s going to pick up the pieces? For this, there is no answer.

It perfectly mirrors the escape from tyranny on the domestic level. From the conclusions drawn there, one can only assume that the author sees this situation as inevitable. In the aftermath of the ultimate domestic collapse, the erstwhile victimised members of the family attempt to rebuild a life. They have however been permanently “expelled” from the state they had known hereto, and their efforts are uncoordinated and wandering. The lasting blame which lands on all of them, but particularly the mother (who has possibly been shown to have suffered the most) is drawn with such absolute precision that it is impossible to sidestep the implication that the wronged commoners will nevertheless carry the burden of their oppressors with them wherever they go. Through the telescope of the immediate and intimate, Adichie elucidates the political and cultural situation for outsiders.

But it seems that she has portrayed the abuser only too convincingly for some readers. Many reviewers opine that Eugene is “not all bad” and that the family’s love for him is “genuine.” In fact, the overwhelming majority of reviewers suggest that poor Eugene, he’s got terrible faults but he means well, bless him. This is both a frightening testament to how household bullies get away with what they do, and a homage to Adichie’s skill in portraying the process. Perhaps also it is a more reassuring reflection that the average reader is thankfully shielded from acute domestic violence, physical and psychological. Any “love” the abuser appears to show to his victims is self-directed, his good deeds in political and economic circles are all salves to his own background of abused childhood and repressed impulses. The abuser cannot see his family (and by extension, anyone who comes within his field of power) as anything but reflections and facets of himself. They have no rights or individual standing in his view, and as he forces his own view onto his victims, his view becomes theirs. This is not to say that Eugene does not suffer for his misdeeds: the disfiguring rash that keeps coming up is like a reflection of the myriad wrongs he has inflicted, which no amount of dabbing away with money will erase – and his body knows it, even if he doesn’t.

But by the very process that she has created to explain the Nigerian situation, is seems Adichie might have overdone herself. The excuses which so many readers see in Eugene’s behaviour make the politicians by implication less culpable, and the love of their subjects less conditional. I am sure Adichie’s message is that patriotic love should be conditional, and if the relationship between state and citizen turns abusive then those conditions should be enforced, even if the citizens feel pain and regret at the process.

In a final reinforcement of the parallel, Kambili’s hidden talent which emerges towards the end of the narrative turns out to be:  running. The symbolism is not veiled. From a domestic situation like hers, the best one can do is run, as fast as possible. Perhaps this is what the writer feels is the ultimate fate of the Nigerian people.

AMAZON READER RATING:	from 202 readers
PUBLISHER:	Anchor (September 14, 2004)
REVIEWER:	Vesna McMaster
AVAILABLE AS A KINDLE BOOK?	YES! Start Reading Now!
AUTHOR WEBSITE:	Wikipedia page on Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie The Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie website
EXTRAS:	Reading Guide and Excerpt
MORE ON MOSTLYFICTION:	Read our review of: Americanah The Thing Around Your Neck: Stories

Bibliography:

• Purple Hibiscus (2003)
• Half a Yellow Sun (2006) )
• The Thing Around Your Neck: Stories (2009)
• Americanah (May 2013)