One word review: Affecting

Rambling review: This book is spectacular. It is SUCH a powerful, intersectional and poignant read. It is succinct and yet complex, emotional and yet sensitive, gripping and yet hauntingly difficult to read.

Nothing I can write here will do it justice. I really hope and think it will do very well in the 2018 lists.

P.S. Speak.

--- Blog post scheduled to go live on 1 June ---

It is certainly a devastating story of homophobia and racism and identity with a tragic end that is in no doubt from the very beginning. It's a powerful story and an important one that tackles violence and prejudice and the consequences of making our own feelings and desires more important than those of others. I wouldn't dream of disputing any of these facts, they're basically incontestable (or should be). My problem lies with the very factor that has sent other reviewers into rhapsodies, and that is the writing. It's highly stylized, with little punctuation and a free-form structure that breaks down and challenges usual reading practice - so far so good, I love experimental writing, whatever barrier you want to break I'm right there with you. But it had to be effective (and affective), it has to work. And this just didn't work for me at all.

The prose developed an overbearing cadence that made it feel repetitive and sucked all the life out of the characters and events. Intellectually I could acknowledge the terrible tragedy but by the time events emerged the prose had sapped all emotion from me but irritation by blurring both people and places, the writing just swept the actual story away and buried it so that it could hardly be understood let alone felt. It also created a very childlike tone, and while the characters are young the writing felt like the unadorned recitation of a much younger person, an endless procession of and then this happened and then this happened and then this happened without pause for breath or thought or significant development. In the end it was a case of style over substance, the substance is there in the hard-hitting events but the style meant that it was just barely skimmed.

This was such a quick and interesting read. I liked how it focused on the idea about being gay and the effect that can have on those around you. I was gripped the whole time throughout and i wanted to know what happens to Niru and if he achieved that happiness he wanted. The relationship between his family and him was complicated and difficult and it was full of tension. The way the story turned into Meredith's point of view was flawless and it left me on the edge of my seat with what would happen to her.

I wanted to give this book 5*s, I really did, but the twist towards the end was trying to pack too much in. Niru was a great character, but the writing made him seem detached. The style of writing took some getting used to but it helped develop the isolation and bereft feelings, especially in the second half of the book. I loved how Iweala captured that blurred line for children of immigrants raised in a different culture. And how Niru fought his desires versus his families wishes.

Niru's father was the only well developed character - to me Niru and Meredith sounded the same and both as cold observers of their own internal world. I really liked how Iweala showed the father's mentality, how he worked hard to build a world for his family in a society he wasn't comfortable in and how everything hung precariously together by his world concepts and how he reacted when his rules were broken. The father reminded me a lot of my own father, and although the father isn't a stellar character, people are complicated and Iweala showed the father in all his complexities without judgement.

The twist shifted the narrative from being about sexuality and cultural differences to one of race, and there wasn't enough room to add another massive topic into the story. I think Iweala should have stuck with the original voice, because it had so much potential to show how people either stifle their desires for their families and/or lose loved ones in order to express their desires - either storyline is heartbreaking but more in keeping with the story she had built.

Thank you to netgalley, publishers and author for this piece of work.

This review will contain significant spoilers for Uzodinma Iweala's Speak No Evil.

Speak No Evil, Uzodinma Iweala's second novel, following thirteen years after his debut Beasts of No Nation, seems at first glance to tread very familiar ground. The synopsis may be enough to put some readers off. Niru, the youngest son of Nigerian parents, has grown up in Washington DC, quietly trying to fit in at a predominantly white school while excelling both intellectually and athletically. When he realises he's gay, his world is turned upside down, especially when his devout father ships him temporarily back to Nigeria for religiously-minded conversion therapy. However, Niru can't resist nudging at the boundaries of his narrow world, as Iweala captures perfectly in a scene set at a high school track meet: 'I'm tired of running in circles while thinking that I'm making progress. And yet it is progress. I can see the seconds and milliseconds shed from my time. I cross the finish line before everyone else, accept their smiles and high fives and fist bumps and then line up to do it all again because that's what I'm supposed to do. I don't want that life.' Told by Reverend Olumide, the local churchman who has been overseeing his 'recovery', that he should 'do the things that young men do', Niru starts drinking heavily at parties for the first time. Leaving one of these parties, he argues with his best friend Meredith, a white woman. A police car turns up when Niru is holding her against a wall, and he is shot dead.

Speak No Evil, then, depicts both the kind of black pain and queer pain that some may feel has been written about enough already, as well as focusing on a typical conservative religious response to homosexuality. And yet I felt that it justified its subject-matter. Part of the reason for this is the simple brilliance of Iweala's writing. Speak No Evil reads like the best kind of YA - energetic, immediate, funny - while, at the same time, adopting an experimental literary style that effortlessly blends dialogue and interior monologue in a way that can occasionally be jolting but is usually exhilarating. Both these strands are in play as Niru nervously heads off to meet a Tinder date that Meredith has arranged for him near the beginning of the novel:

'Ryan's avatar texted me the next day: we can have coffee and then whatever... Coffee I understood, but the whatever rattled around my head. The word sounded so much like the "whatever" Reverend Olumide railed against from the pulpit on Sundays. You have kids saying whatever, doing whatever, whatever whatever. And then they have boyfriends or babies... Ryan's text beneath his smiling face flickered before me, coffee and whatever. I'm actually going to do this... And why not? It was just a quick meetup, coffee after practice and then home. There wasn't going to be any time for whatever.'

Speak No Evil has a simple plot, but its emotions are utterly convincing. By the time Niru was killed, I desperately wanted him to go off to college and have all the boyfriends he could find; Iweala perfectly encapsulates the Greek-tragic inevitability of what actually happens, as Niru realises too late that a society that has all the time in the world for white adolescent mistakes has no room for a single one of his.

I think this is the best novel I've read so far this year, but this isn't to say that it's perfect. For me, Iweala's major  misstep was to have the last third of the book, after Niru's death, narrated by his friend Meredith. As it transpires, Meredith has been convinced by her parents not to tell the truth about what actually happened just before Niru was shot, and to go along with the official police story that Niru was sexually assaulting her. The rest of the novel sees her struggling with that decision until she finally decides to tell the truth. As this unfolds, we learn that Meredith had kept Niru at arms length for so long because she was unable to deal with his romantic rejection of her, even though she knew he was gay. For me, all of this added up to too much page-time for a straight white character whose voice is already dominant in this kind of story, and who plays into tropes of white female fragility to protect herself. I wondered if this final third might not have been better told in the voice of Niru's father, who must surely have been suffering a crisis of the soul after pushing his son away so soon before his death, and whose narrative eventually intersects with Meredith's. I didn't feel that I needed the glimpse inside her head to know what she was thinking; it was all too evident from what had gone before. Nevertheless, Iweala writes incredible prose, and I'll certainly be seeking out his debut.

'Speak No Evil' is a beautifully written, succint, complex and emotionally hard hitting work, in which the author skillfully handles a number of difficult issues with great sensitivity.
I find Uzodinma Iweala's novel to be just as powerful as Angie Thomas' recent 'The Hate You Give' and I must say that, personally, I actually enjoyed it's story and emotional impact much more.
An excellent book which I would whole heartedly recommend as both reading and discussion material. I hope to read more from this author in the future.

This was a profoundly affecting short novel, beautifully and sparingly written with so much emotion packed into it. It is split into two sections, the first longer section is centred around Niru which is then followed by a short section from Meredith’s point of view. This novel is written in quite an unusual style with no dialogue quotation marks at all, at first I found this a little confusing, but I soon became used to it and found it actually made the book flow even more beautifully.

The story has so much heartache to it, I felt so strongly for Niru and what he was going through. However, despite not agreeing with their perspective or actions I actually felt empathy for his strict conservative parents too. It is a testament to the author’s skill that I felt like this despite finding the way his father in particular viewed homosexuality abhorrent. I found hearing what Niru thought about himself so sad and even more so because I’m sure there are countless other young people in the real world who feel like that on a daily basis.

I found both Niru and Meredith fascinating and their huge differences made the story all the more interesting as I really had no idea where things were going to end up. They both had their own difficulties and problems but couldn’t really relate to each other’s which created so much distance between them. The overwhelming feeling of their friendship seemed to be a mix of frustration and love and I feel like there is so much left unsaid between them which really made me feel for both of them. All of the characters were so well drawn and felt completely realistic. I don’t have much experience with religion and I found the passion with which Niru and his family felt for their faith really intriguing and gave so much depth to this beautiful book.

This is a short novel but so, so much is said within it. These character’s stories really touched me and will stay with me for a very long time. It is such an important story to tell but it never feels like the author is preaching to the reader or trying to force an opinion on them. I would wholeheartedly recommend this book to everyone, the whole novel is skilfully assembled and written with so much heart and power.

Our protagonist is Niru, a teenager living in Washington DC. He appears to have it all: a star track runner bound for Harvard who is surrounded by friends and family. Except Niru is gay, something his strict Nigerian parents find sinful. With his life flipped upside down, Niru must try and navigate the precarious situation he is in.

Iweala does an excellent job of capturing the experience of being a teenager, filled with all the anxieties and hopes during that period. Whenever an adult tries to write in the style of somebody younger, I very often roll my eyes at the tired (and often wrong) cliches they spout out. Here however, Iweala successfully manages to pull off a teenage voice. The pop culture references are not shoe-horned in, but rather naturally appear in conversations. The stresses of exams and extra-curricular activities are so well-done, they reminded me of my own experience at that time in my life.

The difficulties of being a teenager are successfully blended together with wider themes of identity. Niru and Meredith, Niru's best friend who is the first to find out he is gay, struggle to find their place in the world, as many teenagers do. But being gay when it is forbidden, and being black in a predominately white city, adds more pressure and Iweala captures Niru's confusion and frustration beautifully. He is discovering his identity as a teenager but that identity is seen as different by his family and peers. This plays into a much more broader discussion, namely the treatment of black people and the LGBTQ+ community in the USA, as well as movements such as Black Lives Matter. Iweala navigates between the personal and the political very well.

However where the novel really excels is through its imagery. The language is beautiful and evocative, in particular a scene where Meredith is walking through Washington DC. I felt like I was pounding the pavements alongside her, so vivid Iweala had painted that picture. The recurring imagery of running laced throughout the story was also great. Both Niru and Meredith are into athletics, and we see them at various practices. Yet the physical act of them running becomes a metaphor, whether that is leaving the city or going to college, they are escaping from their lives here in search of a better one.

Overall, I thought Speak No Evil was a stunning piece of work. Iweala tackles very serious, sensitive subjects such as race and sexuality, as well as weaves a very compelling story. The novel isn't long but certainly packs a punch. The characters are well fleshed-out and their voices are believable. The imagery used is also incredibly beautiful and poignant. I would highly recommend Speak No Evil.

Speak No Evil is a powerful and gripping novel about speaking the truth and escaping being confined by others’ words. Niru is a top student and runner at his private school in Washington DC with a place at Harvard when he leaves. His Nigerian parents are attentive and protective, but Niru must keep a secret from them: he is gay. Only his best friend Meredith knows. But when his father founds out the truth, Niru faces brutal fallout and his friendship with Meredith suffers too. The aftereffects build things towards a terrible event that will be misunderstood by most people.

This is a novel about how sexuality and race intersect in a multitude of ways. Niru is a brilliant central character, trying to fight and appease his parents at once and to reconcile various aspects of his identity and personality. His friendship with Meredith forms an important part of the narrative and also a way of showing how even friends can not understand the problems caused by having conflicting elements of life and identity.

The narrative propels you forward and the book shows the violence surrounding people, particularly non-white LGBT people, and how it can erode a sense of self. This is a hard-hitting and relevant novel with a vividly depicted protagonist.

Speak No Evil is a difficult read but well worth the effort.

Niru is a final-year high schooler in Washington DC. His parents are ambitious, wealthy Nigerians for whom appearances matter. They live in the best neighbourhood, rub shoulders with Washington's movers and shakers, invest in art - but still hanker after the old country and their corrupt relatives. Niru himself is athletic and bright, holds an early offer for Harvard, and the future is his for the taking.

In a coming of age story, Niru finds himself adored by his classmate Meredith, but is unable to reciprocate. Niru faces up to the fact that he is not a ladies' man and, encouraged by Meredith, he starts to explore his sexuality. This does not sit well with Niru's family culture.

The first two thirds of the book is narrated by Niru. His voice is fantastic, wise, witty but always conscious of the unwritten limitations imposed on people with brown skin. He portrays individuality and ambition in a society where he knows people of colour are perceived to be homogenous. he accepts the respect of his classmates for his ability but knows he will never achieve their friendship. We share Niru's frustration, but also feel frustration at his acceptance of the limitations it imposes. We also sense his rebellion against the culture to which his parents adhere. Niru has a conflict between his own westernisation and a world that is unwilling to accept it.

The final third of the book is narrated by Meredith, whose voice is less compelling. Meredith is white and her family is privileged; her father hankers after a seat in the Supreme Court. But her family finds itself at odds with the new values introduced by President 45. Her narrative is a rage against the world, especially the world that is being built in Washington right at the moment. She is angry at the level of acceptance of injustice and at the way she is compelled to play a role in that world based on her race and her wealth.

The novel is particularly challenging to read because it eschews traditional narrative and traditional dialogue. Time jumps around. Parts are written in the here and now; then there will be a jump over a significant time period whose events we must infer from future narrative. Conversation is not reported with traditional punctuation, making it hard to follow, especially when occasionally blended with Nigerian patois. It is hard to grasp the significance of major plot details delivered as single references in what appears to be throwaway dialogue. However, it is worth coming to the novel with a clear head to follow the plot - the effort really does repay itself. The language and imagery are brilliant, Iweala creates a world with perfection. Much of the imagery centres around colour, particularly black and white, light and dark.

The political messages from the book are loud and clear . When Meredith's narrative takes over, sometimes the messages are too clear, being contained in sections of polemic. That is a bit if a shame after Niru's gentle narrative where the reader is trusted to draw his or her own conclusions from the events and ideas.

The Achilles Heel of the book, though, is the pacing and structure. Essentially the denouement comes at the one third mark; the rest feels like a really padded "what happened next" section that you get at the end of some TV movies. Parts of it are necessary to give a second perspective on Niru and his family - but perhaps some other structure could have left the emotional punch to near the end. The actual ending, when we get there, feels anti-climactic.

So Speak No Evil is a short, literary novel that has much to commend it, but it just doesn't feel quite as satisfying as the ideas and writing talent had led this reader to expect. Still very much worth picking up, but five stars have become only three and a half.