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in. Publisher: Origami Books an imprint of Parresia Publishers. Year of Publication: ISBN: ————4. Cheap China-made stereos were now booming with songs. Workers were returning from work, most of them in factory clothes, some still wearing hand gloves and galoshes. Skimpily-dressed ladies, with heavy makeup, smelling of cheap perfume, sat around the bars, smoking, cracking jokes, laughing. At a wobbly low table sat a small, old woman and her companions.
Characte r isation in prose fiction is not always as simple as some would think. Characters need to have their key attributes, their respective back stories, their motives and where their lives intersect their points of conflict…but what happens when the place of narrative action becomes a character in itself?
How do the streets, hills, buildings and swamps get described in a manner that sufficient life is breathed into them? How does the ground get integrated into the story to the point of active participation? Sule Emmanuel Egya pen name E. Sule takes a break from his day job as a professor of African Literature and Cultural Studies at Ibrahim Badamosi Babangida University, Lapai to attempt a response to these posers with his second novel. Jackson intensifies his dislike for his mother, Martha, and is further incensed by the blooming intimacy between her and Odula, but one night, he gets into an encounter that changes his life forever.
Jeans violently unzipped. Short-sleeved shirt fiercely wrenched off. His singlet. His shorts. His underwear. Almost immediately it began to rain. He was pushed roughly and turned on his belly, legs, pushed apart. He felt two palms gripping his buttocks, opening them. Here, Sule takes it upon himself to elaborate on multi-religious relations, the irony of Sharia legislation in the face of lecherous politicians, public sentiment towards constituted authority, colourism and the sad reality of expatriates subjecting native to sub-human conditions in terms of paid employment.
The author also, in haunting prose, delves into a of touchy subjects, including the existence of sexual minorities with specific reference to the dan daudu , paedophilia; mental health, sexual abuse as well as the accompanying psychological trauma; human trafficking and inter-communal tensions. In all this, Makwala town, the centre of events, acquires enough living form to be regarded as a character in the story.
Makwala laughs, weeps, dreams, wails and also becomes capable of feeling frustrated when things look to threaten its existence. Some of them held ts to their mouths, red fire glowing as they smoked. Some clutched bottles of alcohol.
They were either naked or half-naked, touching or holding each other, visibly settled into various moods of sex. They spoke in low voices, loud songs from beer parlours muffling their voices. Around the pit, men and women from both sides found an incredible atmosphere of desire and pleasures. Sule, in scribbling this narrative, is guilty of erring on the side of the superfluous. There are too many needless adjectives, too many unnecessary verbs, too many paragraphs that had no business floating around. The switch from third-person to first-person narration is distracting too, to the point of grating more than a few nerves, and an impatient reader is likely to face the temptation of flinging the book against the wall.
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Wayde Van Niekerk goes through in ; Isaac Makwala doesn’t start