Radio Sunrise

Radio Sunrise is a satirical novel about radio broadcasting and underhand corruption in Nigeria which gives a humourous insight into the problems of being a journalist for a state-funded station. Ifiok works for Radio Sunrise and things start going wrong when his radio drama has its funding cut and his girlfriend leaves him after he cheats on her, but when he is sent back to his home town to make a documentary on a government-funded project he discovers there’s plenty more to go wrong yet.

Isong’s novel focuses on hypocrisy and corruption on both a large and a small scale, but it is the smaller scale moments that really capture the satire particularly well, with journalists only writing news stories if they are paid enough in their brown envelopes. The narrator Ifiok is a naive idealist much of the time which makes him an ideal satiric character, shocked by other’s adulterous relationships and unable to stand up to the system even when he wants to expose its flaws. Isong depicts a complex mix of problems across Nigeria, but all with a light satiric touch that makes for a fun and engaging novel.

Ifiok is a journalist at a government radio station in Lagos, Nigeria. He has a lovely girlfriend, Yetunde, dreams of entering his radio series The River into the BBC Africa drama competition and his boss seems to like him. He seems well set up.

From a narrative perspective, this allows Ifiok to travel freely around the city, observing different vignettes of everyday life - whether in big business or dramas on the street with begging scams and petty thievery. Ifiok himself is part of the emergent middle class, dining in restaurants and buying Yetunde designer dresses, but not in the same league as the army generals driving around in their high black people carriers. And these vignettes are well told, colourful and often amusing.

What is lacking, though, is an over-arching narrative thread. At first it looks as though it might be a quest for funding for The River as government funding for it is cut. This could have lead to all sorts of nefarious schemes and scams, motivated by some form of community spirit. But the story line fizzles out. Instead, Ifiok returns to his family home in the oilfields and has a think about his love life. It feels like the wrong choice of narrative direction.

Nevertheless, this is a colourful, entertaining and short read. Three and a half stars perhaps nudging slightly on the side of four.

The author has very cleverly centered and discussed very important issues, unearthed things that some of us would rather look away from, or pretend doesn't exist. All this without seeming for a moment to shove agenda down the readers' throats. Very well done.

The pitch for Anietie Isong's "Radio Sunrise" drew me in because it seemed to be about making a documentary in Nigeria; plus, other sites describe it as satirical:

"Ifiok, a young journalist working for the government radio station in Lagos, aspires to always do the right thing but the odds seem to be stacked against him. Government pressures cause the funding to his radio drama to get cut off, his girlfriend leaves him when she discovers he is having an affair with an intern, and kidnappings and militancy are on the rise in the country. When Ifiok travels to his hometown to do a documentary on some ex-militants' apparent redemption, a tragicomic series of events will make him realise he is unable to swim against the tide."

Instead, this is almost a summary. What I took as introductory/set-up material forms the first half of the novel. Ifiok doesn't leave for his village until after the 50% mark and the documentary is pushed to the margins. The plot moves well and events accumulate naturally, but they're often described in a cursory manner that doesn't give a reader's imagination much room.

Ifiok is introduced as an observant journalist in the opening chapter, but so much sound, color, and vivacity are only hinted at. Things are often beautiful, opulent, or poor with few visual cues or specific details. A non-spoiler example: There is a scene in which Ifiok discusses fancy office chairs with a man who has purchased them via questionable funds. There's a wall of dialogue about these chairs and their cost, but the reader doesn't have a mental image to form his or her own opinion because the chairs aren't described. Reading this scene feels like being the third wheel while two friends share an inside joke.

This sounds like a petty complaint and, if this were the only scene like this, I wouldn't mention it. But there's a curious mix of too much information and not enough throughout the book. Because "Radio Sunrise" is dialogue-heavy, conversations are the basis for most character development. The supporting cast is largely introduced via their conversations with Ifiok. Small talk is conveyed in great detail, but some scenes end when the real conversation starts, only for Ifiok to summarize it later. This makes it hard to connect with characters because the moments that would illuminate their views and motivations are happening off-screen.

It's one thing to turn the camera from a minor scene, but there's an instant in the climax when Ifiok is at his most passionate. His voice is half of a screaming match, yet his words are unknown to the reader. Why? Because Ifiok can't remember what he said. If he wants to forgo a verbatim account, that's one thing, but to not even give the reader a paraphrased piece of his mind? You could say Ifiok's memory gap helps reinforce the novel's point, but a story and its subtext should not be at odds in such a way that one weakens the other. The ending is diminished for not hearing Ifiok's views, even if his forgetfulness might be part of the story.

As to the positive, I liked that the story was told from Ifiok's perspective as he tries to remain an ethical journalist—one who doesn't prioritize bribes and money over reporting. The pacing is solid and the dialogue is ambitious; the dialogue does so much heavy-lifting in terms of character and plot development. There's a lot of potential here too. Throughout, I wondered if this story would work better as a (long) short story or novella. If it were pared down, some of the transitions would be less jarring and the ending wouldn't feel so rough. Ambiguous endings seem easier to take with short fiction, perhaps because there is much less of an investment (time- and otherwise).

Overall: 3.3 out of 5

NB: This book was provided for review by the publisher, Jacaranda Books (via NetGalley)