Showing posts with label nigeria. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nigeria. Show all posts

Thursday, May 7, 2020

Book 232: Children of Blood and Bone



"The children of OrĂ¯sha dance like there's no tomorrow, each step praising the gods. Their mouths glorify the rapture of liberation, their hearts sing the Yoruba songs of freedom. My ears dance at the words of my language, words I once thought I'd never hear outside my head. The seem to light up the air with their delight—it's like the whole world can breathe again."

Dates read: May 7-11, 2018

Rating: 6/10

When I was a little kid, I longed constantly for a sign that I was special. Not "in all the advanced classes" special, I already knew I was smart, but actual special. Someone was going to appear in my little small town, find me, and announce to the world that there had been a terrible mix-up, and I was urgently needed elsewhere so I could fulfill my glorious destiny. Or maybe I had to prove it, had to find the magic that was surely lurking within me and I spent more time than I should admit trying to do like Matilda Wormwood and move things with my mind. It never worked. No one ever came for me, and I grew up and took myself where I wanted to go, which is as it should be anyways.

I suspect, though, that I'm not the only one who nurtured these fantasies of being suddenly wrested from my ordinary experience to have magical adventures. Hence the popularity of "chosen one" narratives, particularly in the young adult genre. Tomi Adeyemi builds on the legacy of the Percy Jacksons and Pevensie siblings that came before, but for her debut novel, Children of Blood and Bone, she grounds it thoroughly outside of the "white people in Western countries" place it has lived for so long. She creates as her world Orisha, loosely based on Nigeria and the magic in her tales comes from the mythology of the region. There used to be magicians in this world, the maji, divided into ten clans with a special connection to gods and goddesses and their representative elements. But then a cruel, autocratic king cracked down and slaughtered the maji. The adults, anyways. The children were left behind.

The loss of her mother in the raid that ended magic haunts teenage Zelie even years later. She takes after her mother in that she's a Diviner, born with the distinctive white hair that marks her as a potential maji and therefore subjected to discrimination. Her brother Tzain, though, is "normal" like their father, who's never recovered from the loss of his wife. Their lives are forever changed when one day Zelie heads to the capital city to go to the market, and runs into Amari, the country's princess, fleeing her father and the palace with a powerfully important scroll. That scroll, along with other artifacts, has the power to bring magic back to Orisha. Zelie, Amari, and Tzain find themselves on the run from the King and his son, Amari's brother Inan, who discovers much to his dismay that he's not as dissimilar from the Diviners he hates as he'd like. An unexpected connection between Zelie and Inan could be what saves them all...or what dooms them.

This is not my usual type of book: I don't read YA particularly often, and it focuses heavily on plot over characterization and prose. Nevertheless, that plot moved forward so relentlessly that it was impossible to resist getting swept up in it, even when it veered toward the ridiculous. From nearly the second we meet them, our characters are under threat, and no sooner does one danger pass than another arises. Even as the story zooms, Adeyemi does some quality world-building, introducing the reader to a deeply earth-rooted system of magic in a way that gave enough detail to be intriguing without gratuitous information-dumping. It's refreshing to read a story that doesn't rely on the same familiar Christian and/or Eurocentric myths for inspiration.

That being said, while the details of the story are fresh, many of the beats are eye-rollingly familiar: enemies to friends, hate to love, capture and rescue. There are serious, serious deficiencies in character development...no one feels like more than a set of keywords and relationships that the readers are clearly supposed to get deeply invested in are so thinly sketched that the "payoff" barely registers. Prose quality that might elevate the more rote elements is absent...the writing isn't at all bad, but neither is it ever more than serviceable. The book doesn't feel like it's meant to be taken in and of itself, but rather as a springboard: for a movie, for sequels. While it's compelling and compulsively readable while it's in your hands, it loses a lot when it's over and you have time to think about it. I maintain only a vague sort of "if it's on the Kindle for less than $5" interest in continuing the series. If you're into this genre and these kinds of stories, you'll probably very much enjoy this book. If you're looking for something to keep you entertained on the airplane, this is a solid choice. If this isn't the kind of story you're predisposed to like, though, this is skippable.

One year ago, I was reading: Battleborn

Two years ago, I was reading: This!

Three years ago, I was reading: Friday Night Lights

Four years ago I was reading: Vinegar Girl

Thursday, April 25, 2019

Book 178: Stay With Me



"I loved Yejide from the very first moment. No doubt about that. But there are things even love can't do. Before I got married, I believed love could do anything. I learned soon enough that it couldn't bear the weight of four years without children. If the burden is too much and stays too long, even love bends, cracks, comes close to breaking and sometimes does break. But even when it's in a thousand pieces under your feet, that doesn't mean it's no longer love."

Dates read: September 19-22, 2017

Rating: 7/10

Sometimes it seems like there are two kinds of long-married couples: those who genuinely love and appreciate each other, and those who seem to have just decided that they're sticking to it because of stubbornness, mutual resentment, "for the children", or any variety of reasons that aren't love. When I read stories about couples who've been married for decades, I find myself wondering which group that pair falls in. Are the latter something we should be celebrating, honestly? I've known people who got married only to find out later that the person they thought they were swearing forever to isn't who they've ended up with. Ending a marriage, even one that's gone sour, sounds like it's an agonizing decision, and I can't help but think that the social pressure to not make that decision keeps people together who might be better off apart.

What exactly it means to be married, and married well, is at the heart of Ayobami Adebayo's Stay With Me. When we first meet Yejide, we learn that technically, she's had a long marriage. She's lived apart from her husband, Akin, for many years, but she receives an invitation to attend his father's funeral as his guest that sends her on a reminisce about their past, and how their separation came to be. They met at university in Nigeria, and though they were both seeing other people at the time, quickly fell in love and got married. Their marriage was happy, except that even after several years, they were childless. Though Akin and Yejide were a modern couple, his parents were traditional, and if their first-born son couldn't produce an heir for the family with his wife, they had a solution: a second wife.

This is the first in a series of what come to be deep, deep cracks in Akin and Yejide's relationship. Yejide is desperate to keep her husband to herself, and knows that in order to do that, she must somehow become pregnant...which she does. The plot has several twists and turns, and while I'm usually not especially fussed about spoilers, this is one of the cases where I feel like letting the plot unfold as you read is important. Though the book is relatively short (under 300 pages), Adebayo deals with some powerful themes: love, marriage, mental health, trust, family, sex, and what it means to be a parent.

This is a debut novel, and in some ways, it shows. Some of the plot twists seemed to be a little too difficult to believe, and it sometimes felt that they were being deployed too quickly, with too little time for each to really settle and resonate before the next one came along. And while I appreciated the way she paralleled the upheavals and tensions of the central marriage alongside the political turmoil roiling Nigeria during the lives of the characters, references to it often felt shoehorned in. I felt like the book should have been longer, which could have ameliorated both issues by letting the plot breathe a bit.

At the end of the day, though, this is the kind of debut which makes me really excited for the author's follow-up(s). Yejide is a fantastic character...she's not always likable, and often makes poor choices, but remains sympathetic throughout. The perspective we get into her childhood informs the person she comes to be, and I wish we'd gotten a bit more of this with Akin. We get some, but he's less well-developed than she is and I think the book could have been even stronger if we'd gotten more of his perspective. Despite its flaws, I enjoyed this book and look forward to following Adeyabo's career. I would recommend it, but maybe not to everyone. I think it'll appeal most to readers who enjoy character-based domestic dramas and don't mind if they occasionally trend towards the implausible in their plotting.

Tell me, blog friends...what do you think are good reasons for ending a marriage, if any?

One year ago, I was reading: Rosemary's Baby

Two years ago, I was reading: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

Three years ago, I was reading: The President's Club

Friday, September 9, 2016

Book 41: And After Many Days

 

"When misfortune befalls you, people secretly blame you. Ajie noticed this. People can't help it. They do it so they can believe it won't happen to them. They haven't done whatever it is you have done to deserve such suffering. They see you on the street and look away, and if they can't avoid meeting you, they talk about other things. It's as if you are a tainted thing, someone who could possibly bring bad luck." 

Dates read: April 9-11, 2016

Rating: 7/10

Children go missing every day, from communities all over the country. All over the world. Most of them we never hear about...they're maybe on an inside page of newspaper, are read quickly on the local news for a few days before moving on to high school sports. I don't think it's a coincidence that the ones we don't hear about are children from poor families, or children of color. It only becomes a story of national interest if it happens to a family that it's not "supposed" to happen to, like Jon Benet Ramsey or Elizabeth Smart. A child disappearing from a less-than perfect situation isn't deemed a surprise, but a but a child disappearing from a beautiful, successful, and (until now) happy family...now that's news.

And that's what happens in Jowhor Ile's And After Many Days. The Utu family lives happily and comfortably in Nigeria in the 90s, until 17 year-old oldest child Paul says he's going out to visit a friend and never returns. He's a good kid, a responsible kid, not the type to have a secret girlfriend or drug habit that would explain his sudden disappearance. In his absence, his lawyer father, school administrator mother, younger brother and younger sister find their more-or-less peaceful existence ripped apart. Things like this aren't supposed to happen to people like them. The story of the family's struggle to deal with the mystery of what happened to Paul is set against the civil unrest of the country as a whole, with student riots and police brutality mentioned in conversation often enough to let a sense of unease percolate in the background. The power doesn't even run regularly, everyone just has to live their lives prepared for there to be no electricity, since that's as likely as not.

The story doesn't progress like a typical missing youngster whodunit. Instead of focusing on the family in a timeline moving forward, Ile touches on the family's painful present while going backwards to show how they used to be, in happier times. I appreciated the accuracy of the way Ile portrayed childhood relationships, including those between the three siblings. The kids get along one second and the next are at each other's throats. They deliberately annoy each other and relish in the squabbles they set off. There's never any doubt that the Utu kids are close and love each other, but Ile doesn't cherry-coat that aspect of siblinghood.

Ultimately, I feel like the book was slightly too short. At only about 250 pages, it doesn't have quite the time to develop the parallel between the Utu family's personal tragedy and the community-wide tragedy of Western corporate interests interfering the dynamics of the Utu's native village that it seems to be going for. It reminds me of the way Chinua Achebe used the Christian missionaries in Things Fall Apart, but without giving himself the extra 50 or 100 pages to flesh it out more fully and achieve Achebe's richness of metaphor. But Ile's prose is lyrical, strong and sure, and this is a debut that promises good things ahead, so I look forward to reading his next.

Tell me, blog friends...if you had siblings, did you fight with them like crazy growing up?

**I received a free copy of this book from the publisher, Tim Duggan books, through Edelweiss in exchange for a fair and honest review**