“Just dance, Obi.” – Ekene (Obiefuna's brother) Oh, how it must feel to live in a world where you can be anything but yourself. Obi (Obiefuna) has always been queer; visibly so. As his father once remarked to his mother, “That boy, he is abnormal.” While his brother and peers loved football, Obi was quiet and self-effacing. The one area he stood out in was dance and he wasn’t just good at it, he was brilliant. Crowds would gather wherever he performed, their cheers only deepening his father’s disapproval. In a moment of fury, his father once asked if he was “a woman in a man’s skin.” But in his mother’s eyes, Obi could do no wrong. She cherished his gentleness, his empathy; in him, she found a companion and a confidant. Everything shifts when Obi’s father brings home a new apprentice, Aboy. Their closeness awakens something unfamiliar and frightening in Obi—feelings he’s never had to confront. When an intimate moment between them is discovered by his father, Obi’s fate is sealed. He is sent away to a remote Christian boarding school, abruptly torn from his mother and the only home he has ever known. At school, Obi learns to survive by hiding. Fear and shame shape him into someone he can barely recognise. In trying to protect himself, he betrays not only himself but also those like him. His constant paranoia, the dread of being found out, is palpable. As readers, we’re drawn into his fear; we carry his anxiety, day after day, year after year. Meanwhile, back home, his mother is quietly unravelling. She doesn’t understand why her son was taken from her, and while carrying that heartbreak, she also battles a serious illness she tells hides from Obi. When Obi finally finishes school, we begin to hope for his liberation. He gradually finds a community of people like him; those who offer the kind of safety, understanding, and love he’s never known. But how does one fully love or breathe in a country that doesn’t just reject you, but hunts you? Still, amid the brutality, Blessings offers glimmers of tenderness: acts of kindness, of friendship, of quiet resistance. There is pain, but also grace. This book was a gut-wrenching, lyrical way to begin my year. Chukwuebuka Ibeh writes with the cadence of poetry, weaving together grief, shame, hope, and love into an unforgettable debut. Blessings deepened my empathy and reminded me what it means to be seen and what it costs not to be. In the end, Ekene’s words, "Just dance, Obi", echo still, not just a brother’s encouragement, but a quiet insistence that Obi, despite everything, deserves joy.
The Vegetarian by Han Kang is an intriguing yet somewhat disturbing story told in three acts and from three perspectives centred around one woman's choice to become a vegetarian. In the first act through her husband's eyes, we get to know Yeong-hye, a married unassuming woman who has largely gone unnoticed due to her mild nature; or as her husband puts it "completely unremarkable in every way". For a man who spent most of his life "inclined toward the middle course of life", an unremarkable woman was exactly what he needed. That is until she has a dream and decides to be a vegetarian starting a sequence of events. I’ve always inclined toward the middle course in life...And so it was only natural that I would marry the most run-of-the-mill woman in the world. As for women who were pretty, intelligent, strikingly sensual, the daughters of rich families—they would only have served to disrupt my carefully ordered existence. The second act is told from the perspective of Yeong-hye's brother-in-law; an artist who is obsessed with her Mongolian mark. A Mongolian mark is a birthmark that typically disappears before adolescence. In his twisted obsessive way, the brother-in-law is convinced that his greatest work yet is centred around Yeong-hye's birthmark and tries to convince her to become his model. The third and final act is centred around Yeong-hye's sister who paints a picture of the aftermath of it all and the consequences of Yeong-hye's choice to become a vegetarian and further progressing into the belief that she is a tree and thus becomes admitted into a psychiatric hospital. As the sister tries to understand it herself we see the family history and explore themes of freedom, marriage, madness and death. The book leaves more questions than answers but is still worth the read.
"Nighbloom" is a story of two cousins who are born on the same day in 1985—Selasi at the regional hospital in Ho and Akorfa at the '37 Military Hospital' in Accra. Their fathers, being first cousins and close friends, move to the same estate. Here, their mothers form a friendship that results in their daughters spending most of their days together. The story is told in two parts: first by Akorfa and then by Selasi. The girls spend the first part of their lives as best friends and sisters. Akorfa is book-smart, shy, and cautious, whereas Selasi, like her mother, is fun, loud, and brave. Despite their differences, they form a tight bond with each other, creating their own 'iridescent world within this sometimes gray one.' But life happens, and Selasi loses her mother during childbirth, starting a string of troubles and rejections. As a result, her newborn brother is taken far away, while her father remarries and sends her to live with her grandmother. Despite the distance, Selasi and Akorfa try to maintain their bond. Later, after the death of Selasi's grandmother, she moves in with Akorfa's family, reuniting them. Their love is tested as they see new sides of each other and the differences in their worlds. However, their bond does not withstand the test of time, and they part ways when Selasi leaves the home, never to return. Years later, life's circumstances bring the girls together again. Both feel wronged and believe they deserve an explanation from the other. However, having these discussions means confronting parts of themselves they have hidden for years—parts that could unravel all the efforts they've made to escape their pain. Yet, these conversations seem necessary for them to move past their pain and prevent history from repeating itself. I found the novel to be very engaging and fast-paced. Peace Adzo knows how to keep her readers engaged. While the story is almost repeated as we get the girls' different perspectives on the same events, it works because we learn new things at every turn. The story successfully shows how the same events can be viewed differently and how our perceptions are often not the reality or the final objective truth.
The Vanishing Half tells an interesting story of twin sisters both white passing who choose very different paths in life and the aftermath of all these choices. Stella is the silent twin who spent her childhood being spoken for by her sister. Smart and silent but had to drop out of school to help their mother. After running away with her sister to the city she one day disappears and decides to be white and spend the rest of her life living this lie and shunning any semblance of her past. Desiree is the restless twin. She spent most of her childhood dreaming of leaving her hometown and going against everything it stood for. After running away with Stella and losing Stella in the city she ends up having a child with a dark-skinned man, having a daughter with him and later comes back to the hometown she ran from. This story looks at how far these sisters can pull away from each other and live a whole life when it feels like half of them is missing.The novel covers many heavy themes: race, sexuality, family, love etc. This works well but sometimes also works against it because these topics are vast and sometimes the story gets lost in them. Generally, the book is easy to read and fast-paced. I would recommend it. One shortfall is that so many characters are introduced on a high level that we end up feeling like we don't know much about the main characters since so much focus has been put on these other side characters.
The First Woman (also titled A Girl is a Body of Water) is a novel that follows the life of Kirabo, a 12-year-old Ugandan girl living in Nattetta with her grandparents. There, she is doted on by her whole family: her grandparents, aunties and father. Despite this, she cannot help but wonder about her absent mother, a woman so elusive that none of her family members want to talk about her. As she grows up and starts questioning parts of herself, she decides to seek out answers by forming an unlikely relationship with the village witch: Nsuuta. Nsuuta is a witty, controversial character who defies everything expected of a woman, and through her, Kirabo is introduced to a whole new world. As we follow along, we explore themes of family, tradition, feminism (mwenkanonkano), friendship, and love. We see Kirabo delve into these themes as she grows up, moves to the city, falls in love and builds friendships, all while discovering herself. The story is engaging and Makumbi's storytelling skill is a delight. It is a multi-generational tale that leaves a strong impact on the reader. It reads like a love letter to women and the friendships they forge among themselves. I highly recommend it!