Skip to main content

Better Never than Late, 2019, Chika Unigwe *****

This is a collection of short stories that narrates on the lives of Nigerian immigrants in Belgium. it consists of ten short stories somehow interconnected.

The Transfiguration of Rapu: How do you cope when you have to pretend you aren't the real wife because your husband is married to another person in order to legalise his situation.

Finding Faith: My favourite of them all, though it is a sadly engaging story of loss. How do we deal with the loss of our loved ones when we are so far away from home and immersed in a different culture?

If Finding Faith is sadly engaging, the story of Agu and Prosperous is enraging. Their story occupied two chapters of the novel "Becoming Prosperous and Every One Deserves Grace". After the riot that put an end to Agu's business in Jos, he decides
to leave Nigeria with Prosperous. A decision that they regret but  don't know how to deal with that feeling of sadness and disappointment that keeps on pestering their relationship.

Better Never than Late left me in distraught, I really do not understand how a child could be abused in the name of holy deliverance.

Cunny Man Die, Cunny Man Bury Am  and Love of a Fat Woman are stories that  narrate on sham marriage from the victim's point of view.

Cleared for Takeoff is also one of my favourites, as I think it is so important to change something if we don't like it.

How to Survive a Heat Wave is a troubling read.

Heart Is  Where  The Home Is is a real eyeopener, the memories we have of people and places do not really correspond to reality when we've been out of touch with them for years.

I really enjoyed  this novel, it is a  compelling page turner that keeps you on the edge of your seat. It somehow reminds me of Traveller by Helon Habila. I highly recommend.


from Mary Okeke Reviews https://ift.tt/2AObdfX

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Beautiful Faraway: Why I’m Grateful for My Soviet Childhood

At 10 I wanted to be an artist, practiced a hysterical form of Christianity, talked to trees, and turned a sunset at a local park into a visionary experience. My great-aunt lured me to Evangelical Christianity with the strangeness of Gospel stories where Jesus always ended up angry at his disciples’ failure to understand. I sympathized with being misunderstood, and latched on. Besides, Christianity was a forbidden fruit in Soviet Russia so I had to worship in secret. This was unnerving but also alluring. I was a breathless romantic who wanted to be surprised by a knight on a white horse. From the early ‘80s to the early ‘90s, my childhood was formed by the images, atmosphere, and allusiveness of Soviet songs. I grew up in an artistic family where emotions flew high. I was the kind of imaginative child who could spin an entire tale from an oblong stain on the kitchen table. But there’s more to it than that. My family was not always idealistic or romantic, especially not in New York in...

Dressing for Others: Lawrence of Arabia’s Sartorial Statements

Left: T. E. Lawrence; Right: Peter O’Toole in Lawrence of Arabia (1962) In the southwest Jordanian desert, among the sandstone mountains of Wadi Rum, there is a face carved into a rock. The broad cheeks and wide chin are framed by a Bedouin kuffiyeh headdress and ‘iqal, and beneath the carving, in Arabic, are the words: “Lawrence The Arab 1917.” If you are visiting Wadi Rum with a tour guide, you can expect to be brought to this carving. You may also be shown a spring where Lawrence allegedly bathed, as well as a mountain named after his autobiography, The Seven Pillars of Wisdom, whose rock face has been weathered into a shape that does, from some angles, look a little like a series of pillars. I am familiar with the legend of T.E. Lawrence—fluent Arabist, British hero of the Arab Revolt of 1916, troubled lover of the Arab peoples—as well as with the ways the Jordanian tourism industry has capitalized on this legend. Nevertheless, I am still surprised when I hear someone mentio...

Philistines

Welcome to Disney World! Photograph courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. 1. Once I had to go to Disney World with my small children. On the way to the airport our taxi driver exhibited signs of Obsessive Disney Disorder—when he found out where we were going he started obsessively describing and listing and explaining everything that had to do with Disney World, even though he was a grown man. We stayed at the Portofino Bay Hotel, a Disney-owned property that is a replica of the storied village on the Italian Riviera. There were imitation Renaissance churches and Mediterranean piazzas clustered around a fake harbor with old Fiats parked on the cobblestones and fishing boats moored in the fake bay. Outside cafés ranged on the harbor, serving espresso under green-and-white striped awnings. Italian cypresses were planted along the pools. If you didn’t know it was a Disney replica of a real place, it would have to be characterized as being extremely tasteful and lovely. So you did tend to ge...