Taiye and Kahinde are twin sisters, daughters of Kambirinachi: Butter Honey Pig Bread alternates between their perspectives, each woman narrating their contemporary experiences through the lens of key events in their pasts.
The sister’s mother is Yoruba and their father is Igbo, something they often have to explain when they move to different parts of Canada and proceed to make connections in their new environs.
Each of the women considers “a force that matched and moved” and changed her “so profoundly” that reconsidering her life, she is “struck by the indelible the mark it left”. Each of them must confront a loss.
Sometimes a final and irrevocable loss, a grief that “squeezed, squeezed until it split a hairline fracture that ran the length of her”. Sometimes a loss of trust and intimacy. She “was my quiet partner, closer than my shadow, than my own skin. But on that day, I called her, and she hid.”
Another recurring theme revolves around questions of what we consume and what consumes us.
Sometimes a matter of literal feeding, like this dinner-for-four: “The four of them sat at the round glass table, set with raffia place mats and cutlery wrapped in batik napkins. Taiye flitted in and out of the kitchen with tray after tray of dishes to be shared. Rice bejewelled with large pieces of smoked fish, crayfish, and aromatic efirin; gorgeously browned chicken; small balls of mosa; and that obscenely decadent chocolate cake.”
Sometimes a question of appetites and what we crave and what we eschew: “The trouble was that Zora wanted more than Taiye could give. She was hungry for a full meal, but Taiye offered only appetizers…”
The action in Francesca Ekwuyasi’s novel is character-driven rather than plot-driven but, nonetheless, readers are immediately curious as to why relationships are distended and strained. As characters move across time and space, the author serves as a dedicated and authoritative guide.
Transitions are succinct and connections are drawn clearly. Like this one, for instance: “Long before she would go back home to Lagos, before her beehive, before the meals she would make to appease – more truthfully, avoid—her sister, there was a Sunday morning in South London, drowned in the wet sanguinity of spring, when…”
The focus on women’s experiences–in the context of a narrative revolviung around how we are nourished and how we are wasted–feels sharply and enduringly relevant. Francesca Ekwuyasi’s attention-to-detail is evocative and her prioritizing of compassion and empathy secures my interest; I’m eager to read what she writes next.
Giller-bility
There are remarkable similarities between Ekwuyasi’s debut and previous Giller nominees, like Shani Mootoo’s Cereus Blooms at Night (shortlisted in 1997, her most recent novel shortlisted for this year’s Giller), Michael Crummey’s The Innocents (shortlisted in 2019) and Jennifer Lovegrove’s Watch How We Walk (longlisted in 2014). And other stand-out sister stories: including Marina Endicott’s The Little Shadows as longlisted in 2011 and Alix Ohlin’s Dual Citizens as shortlisted in 2019. But this year’s jury did not advance Ekwuyasi’s novel to the shortlist.
Inner workings
One of these characters remains unrooted in the novel’s present-day time and place. She carries with her “a sadness, the pitying kind of sorrow, to know the things that alive bodies could never be”. She outwardly appears to inhabit this world. But when readers have access to her inner thoughts and emotions, we learn that she also inhabits another world, and she has been existing between realms of being for a long time. “There were lovely things about being alive, she had to remember, like the taste of guavas.” In relationship to the theme of grief, hers is a particularly poignant state.
Language
Functional and direct, for the most part, with a few figurative splashes, like the description of the family home below in Locale, and this one, which underscores the legacy of disconnected and fractured family relationships: “The whole time, Kambirinachi did her best to put aside thoughts of her mother, whose absence had grown into a bleak yawn of longing in her life.”
Locale
The family home in Nigeria: “The house stands three storeys tall. There is a wide balcony jutting out from the master bedroom on the second floor and two narrow ones on the third floor, like bulging square eyes and a straight line for a contemptuous mouth.” Some Canadian settings (including the Halifax Public Library, briefly). And neutral spaces: “The café smelled like most cafés must: earthy burst coffee, hot butter, warm bread. But here there was also the distinct sweet spice smell of cardamom.”
Engagement
From the beginning, this novel subverts readers’ expectations. A story of a family reunified. A story of twins. A story of a cloistered existence in a walled and protected domicile. These are all situations which speak of intimacy and closeness. But these twins have gone for long periods without speaking. This mother is burdened by an intense grief after the loss of the girls’ father. And her mother was removed, both geographically and emotionally too. Readers and characters share a longing for restoration in this heartful story.
Readers Wanted
You find pleasure in the description of delectable desserts, even if you can’t actually eat them.
You read stories of grief as stories of hauntings.
You appreciate the irony that people are often furthest from those to whom they “should be” closest.
For you, cooking and sharing food matters as much as tasting.
[…] also reviews by:Buried in Print (here)Consumed by Ink […]
“what we consume and what consumes us”… Ooooo…. I can’t wait for this book to come in! It is finally no longer “too new for ILL.”
There seem to be a lot of sisters on the longlist this year. So interesting!
It still feels “too new” but I’m glad you’ll be able to get your hands on a copy soon. ILL is still a no-go here (the same administration that prioritizes the economy over people’s lives, so no surprise) but I notice the library staff haven’t cancelled my outstanding ILLs from two years ago so I guess they’re still hopeful that it’ll be reinstated eventually.
I forgot about that! 🙁
Hey! You so often leave me in the position of having found your review enjoyable and informative but with me having nothing to say. I take it Ekwuyasis is a Canadian of Nigerian heritage. Is the book’s background also in Nigerian Lit do you think? Nigerian books, the few I’ve read anyway, often have been poetic in their use of language and also seem to include the spirit world as a natural part of life
Sometimes I feel like that when I read your posts too; I don’t always immediately have a thought to share and I’ve thought it was because I don’t always recognize the authors. Just the other week, we were chatting about Ben Okri and I wouldn’t say that Ekwuyasi’s prose is so lyrical but there is a sense of rhythm to her telling, and, yes, the latter is fully present in this story (but I don’t want to spoil).
This sounds excellent and intriguing!
Also, that cake. I keep thinking about THAT CAKE!
This sounds really fascinating, I’m disappointed it didn’t make the shortlist! Happy about How to Pronounce Knife winning though, that collection definitely deserves all the praise its getting 🙂
Yes, I loved Thammavongsa’s stories too, so I’m not sorry to see it gain all that additional recognition. I hope many people read her stories. At the same time, I hope many readers find Ekwuyasi’s novel and read it too and it would have been nice to see it shortlisted for a bit more attention too.
I’m so impressed by the overall diversity of the Giller nominees. Judging by the quotes you’ve pulled out, this one seems particuarly appealing.
It’s a thoroughly engaging family story, the joins (between voices and times) are handled skilfully, and the themes that recur throughout the women’s lives are universal and moving.
I really like the sound of this one too, I like a character driven piece and these characters sound particularly interesting.
Oh, I think you’d like this one, for the mother-daughter theme, and one of the characters does spend some time in London, UK (although it’s not a major part of the novel).
I hadn’t heard of this but it sounds very intriguing. One for the wish list. Sounds like it’s very evocative and speaking to the senses.
There were so many food descriptions that I wanted to quote! This is a small Canadian press, and hopefully her writing will continue to attract new readers.