The Ferret

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Two books, two themes.

Works of fiction from two completely different writers. Yellow-Yellow by Kaine Agary and Nine Lives by El-Nukoya.

Yellow-Yellow (YY) is a maiden attempt by the author. For a story that had so much potential, it turned out rather bland. The protagonists perspective  was watered down and highly unconvincing.

Having paid N500 for the 179page book, I had to thumb through Zilayefa, called Yellow (due to her light complexion), a half Greek half Ijaw girls desperate attempt to leave her village and make it big in Port Harcourt city. I had to resist all urge to chuck it after the first few pages because it was a dead giveway of what was to be expected on subsequent pages; blandness.

We read about her frustrations in the village. Her mothers suffocating love and devotion boring down on her and how she looks to much older men for affection because she lacked a father figure in her life.

Oh so predictable!

The narration from Zilayefa’s perspective had no distinct voice. It sounded like someone else was taking account of her life; like she was sitting in a pirogue and someone else was doing the paddling. Kaine Agary could have done so much with the story, but it just started out like a typical Nigerian movie, ran its watery course and ended with a very predictable conclusion. For a village girl she seemed pretty knowledgeable about the ongoings in the country.

I was dissapointed. And I’m still dissapointed as to how the novel was able to covet the Victor Nwankwo 2007 Book of The Year Award. Was it because the plot was based in the Niger Delta? Then again what did the book tell me that I don’t already know?

Again, for someone who I’m presuming to come from that region, she could have taken it a step further. With all the attention of the world on the Niger Delta, she had an audience willing to hang unto her every world. Insead what we got was a flat serving of mundaneness.

I still praise her for the attempt and look forward to her next instalment.

As for El-Nukoya’s Nine Lives… aaaaah, that’s another sweet tale for another sweet day. So far I can’t put down the book. I haven’t felt this euphoric since I the first time I laid eyes on my husband. It’s like being in love all over. I heard it took him sixteen years to write. It’s a mini mammoth of a book that’s worth every page!

M did something yesterday that totally blew me away. He came home from work with a little treasure that went a really long way for me; he walked into the house and deposited a bag full of books in my hands and I promptly deposited a kiss on his lips as soon as I realized what it was *I screamed like a mad woman and jumped up and down too* That guy just kills me. He’s a gem!

Some good folks from a publishing house came by their office with promotional offers. He bought me eleven books in total, ten of which came in a cute little pack. A great deal too, because the ten were sold for just £10, originally £70.90. I just pity those who bought it at that price, if they know how much it costs now they’ll weep!

I’ve already tucked into ‘Blood River’. That was the logical thing to do, it being solo and all. It’s about Timothy Butcher’s -a correspondent for the Telegraph – journey through the Congo. A non-fictional piece, I might add. Non-fiction is not my thing. I’m not too keen to sit down to a slice of reality when I’m already living it, but BR has been interesting so far. I’m past page 20 and don’t plan on putting it down anytime soon. Think about it, when a book reads:

Stanley’s Congo expedition fired the starting gun for the Scramble for Africa. Before his trip, white outsiders had spent centuries nibbling at Africa’s edges, claiming land around the coastline, but rarely venturing inland.

It would be sheer madness to put it down! One one hand I want to strangle that Stanley fellow, on the other hand, if he hadn’t opened up Africa, someone else would.