Korede’s sister, Ayoola is irresistible. Men can’t help but fall, weak-kneed at her feet. But Ayoola also has a bit of a habit. Nothing much, just the a little twitch of her hand that ends with a knife in each of her boyfriends’ heart. Korede, who is always the one to scrub any trace of evidence, is undoubtedly loyal to her sister— despite her higher sense of principal and morality. However, after Ayoola’s third murder, Korede begins questioning. Duty to herself and duty to her sister is conflicted when Ayoola steals the heart of the man Korede loves. This man is in danger…
This book was everything it was hyped up to be: compelling, profound, filled with off-color humor and chilling to the bone. If we begin with the structure: utterly refreshing. The short spurts of writing for each chapter draws you in, giving you time to digest but feel the compulsive urge to dive in for more. The forthright chapter titles added to the candid voice that filled the pages. ‘Ice cream.’ ‘Father.’ ‘Knife.’ ‘The Patient.’ Clear and concise, yet it’s contents are still taunting and suggestive. It’s like eating sushi turned into reading: I’m carefully picking up divine bites of heaven, taking in every burst of flavor, pausing and relishing. And then it’s gone, and you yearn for the next piece— the feeling is satisfying. Filling.
Then, the language: exquisite. An unstilted, lyrical flow of words that either caress you with their simplicity, surprise you with their wit or disquiet you with their depth. Braithwaite effectively captures the rich essence of Nigerian culture and the inescapable age of our modern digital world which in itself is actually quite ground-breaking for contemporary fiction set in Africa.
*OKAY, SPOILERS*
Lastly, the characters. Yikes. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. The levels of dissection are so great, I feel like I was walking down the Inferno. Quite literally. At first and for a while, I saw Ayoola as nothing but a nauseatingly selfish girl, drunk on pretty-privilege without the slightest clue of holding oneself accountable for their actions. The Ice-cream chapter was dark for me. I mean she literally licks her ice cream before hugging the sister of the boy she murdered. Really? But I also realized that abuse and sexual objectification does something to a person. It hardens them. Turns gifts into weapons and compassion into a stone wall. I can’t say I feel sorry for her, but I empathize. She became a dark product of the world around her. The world that saw her beauty and not her soul.
The problematic character for me was surprisingly Korede. On the outset, she’s quite simple to psycho-analyze. Afflicted by her over-bearing responsibility to her dangerously impulsive and self-absorbed sister, she suffers from (and humor me for my diagnosis of a fictional character) but obsessive compulsive disorder or at least a stressed need for order and cleanliness. I think this strongly indicates the lack of growing order in her own mind. And quite frankly she is messed up. An accessory to the crime makes you as guilty as the criminal. Forgive my firm belief in justice. And I know what one may think this boils down to…. but if it was your sister? I understand this predicament. But when Tade says to her ‘you’re worse than she is… there’s something wrong with her (Ayoola), but you, what’s your excuse?’ That unsettled me deeply. What is her excuse? You see, there’s one thing helping your sister clear a body. But repeatedly? Ayoola’s actions had no justifiable reason. So why do they deserve continued support? Unless, Korede deep down, is a killer too.
“The most loving parents and relatives commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are: a subtle kind of murder.” This Jim Morrison quote stuck with me. Another awesome debut by Oyinkan Braithwaite!
Have you read this book? Tell me what you think!
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