I read Eghosa Imasuen’s ‘Fine Boys’ in almost one sitting,
turning the pages of the novel into the early hours of the morning, desperate
to discover Ewaen and Willy’s fate. The 90s were a particularly unattractive
time to go to University in Nigeria and Imasuen does not shy away from this.
The teargas and strikes of the decade are depicted, as well as the cramped
classrooms and terror of being forced to ‘blend’ into a cult. Yet, the book
still left me nostalgic for the camaraderie of a generation that for the most
part ‘alutad’ and continued to tell the tale. I forced the book on a friend who
prides himself on not having time to read fiction. He returned my signed copy a
few days later, dog-eared and thumb marked. “That was my life,” he said, a
little unnerved by how spot on Imasuen had been.
I read about Molara Wood’s ‘Indigo’ on twitter. She was very
discreet, tweeting in passing that her short story collection was out without
even urging us to ‘grab our copies!!!’ Nevertheless, I hurried to Amazon and downloaded
the book. I’ve never encountered Ms Wood’s fiction before and so I approached
with curiosity. It can take me months to read a collection. I hate the
unevenness of the things. You read a brilliant story, only for you to rush to
the next one and discover it’s a dud. Ms Wood has no duds. Obviously, all
fingers being unequal, some stories are more brilliant than others. ‘Night
Market’ which has the unlikely ingredients of an ex-Sango priest, an American
wife and a returnee, is one of the most satisfactory pieces of fiction I have
read, a world in a short story. It was so complete, I wondered why any writer
wastes paper on a novel?
And then of course Igoni Barrett’s ‘Love is Power orSomething Like That.’ I found the title a bit unwieldy and I wondered why in a
collection of delightful numbers such as, ‘My Smelling Mouth Problem’ and, ‘The
Shape of A Full Circle’ Barrett and his publishers should have chosen such an
amala bolus of a title. Well I read it and discovered why. I found myself
chastised by this very nuanced portrayal of that oft caricatured individual:
the Nigerian policeman. It’s a fluid piece of fiction that slips into your
consciousness and remains there long after it is over. Barrett is also doing
something very interesting with language. He’s writing in Nigerian English, not
pidgin, which Eghosa Imasuen, does with flair but in Nigerian English: that
curious, convoluted, verbose, ungrammatical, profound, lyrical way we have of
speaking ‘English’ to one another.
Lastly, the discovery of the year for me was the Congolese French
writer, Alain Mabanckou. His semi-autobiographical novel, ‘Tomorrow I’ll Be
Twenty’ may very well become the definitive coming of age tale of a generation.
Communism, dictators, coups and suspect diamonds all feature in what still
remains a very funny novel, thanks to the earnest lens through which the young
narrator sees the world. I read the book to the end and so saddened was I by
how quickly I’d consumed it, I went back to the beginning and started again. It
was that good. These four books I’ve mentioned are that good. So grab a copy of
each one. Grab your copies now!
First published on YNaija.