100 Books Like Every Day Is for the Thief

English enslavers called Ancona Robin Robin John and Little Ephraim Robin John “princes” because they were literate English-speaking members of one of two ruling African slave-trading families in present-day southeastern Nigeria.

The lives of the Johns illuminate the surprisingly complex relationships among the participants in the transatlantic slave trade, when African suppliers of enslaved Africans often had as much economic and political power as their European customers.

The English allies of the rival family captured the two men during a trade war between the families in 1767.

They were taken to the Caribbean and North America, with several escapes and recaptures, before being brought to England, where they successfully sued for their freedom. They returned to the family business in Africa.  

This is so much more than a love triangle story that I hesitate to reduce it to merely that. The novel explores interracial relationships, “blackness” in both an African and an African-American context, and the ways in which those worlds collide, etc., etc. At its broadest, the book describes the story of the Nigerian diaspora writ large. But at its core, this is the story of a love triangle—the sort of story I love most.

(I grew up a bit of a mama’s boy, and in our household, we loved love stories…)

As in Ishiguro and Jones, cited above, and in Garcia Marquez, noted next, the characters here submit to pressures and make difficult choices—as thoughtfully as they can, under the circumstances. And those choices have life-changing consequences that the characters eventually come to regret.

Released in 2021, God of Mercy satisfied my need for history and fantasy with an authentic portrayal of Igbo traditions, language, and spirituality. This dark tale follows Ijeoma, a girl blessed with the ability to fly, and delves into the complexities of faith, community, and the clash between traditional religions, ancient customs, colonial encroachment, and modern ideas.

Nwoka's beautiful prose and intricate storytelling immersed me in a world where the supernatural smoothly integrates with everyday life. The novel’s depiction of a small village struggling to preserve its cultural heritage in the face of external pressures struck a chord with me as I grew up at a time when traditional religions were still contending with colonial religions in my country’s native villages.

This novel offered me a profoundly enriching reading experience that honored the past while stimulating the imagination. Trigger warning: child abuse and torture.

Do you want to feel the exuberance and magic of childhood again? Then read and enjoy this beautiful book, which will take you on a journey through a Nigerian night market with all of its delightful sights, sounds, tastes, and smells.

It’s an exhilarating glimpse at a vibrant way of life halfway across the globe. Plus, since I’m a night owl and my own book takes place entirely at night, I’m partial to stories about little-known slices of life that happen when most people are asleep.

I knew nothing about this book’s author but was immediately hooked by the engaging voice of the young protagonist. I would have followed her anywhere. She led me out of Nigeria, on the run from warlords who burned her village, to a refugee detention center in the UK. Then on the loose, an undocumented young Nigerian woman searching for the one man in London who could vouch for her. What she does find is the man’s widow. And I found a story I couldn’t stop reading. Only later did I learn that the author is a man. And that he’d written the book to shine a light on the cruelty done to Nigerians in the name of oil rights, and the mistreatment of refugees in UK detention centers. Well done, Chris.

Unimpressed by Amos Tutuola’s debut novel, I approached My Life in the Bush of Ghosts with caution. However, I’m glad I took the leap. Tutuola’s vivid descriptions of supernatural entities from Yoruba tradition appealed to both the avid fantasy reader and the cultural historian in me.

The narrative of a young boy’s journey through a mystical forest paints an uncluttered picture of postcolonial Nigerian life. Despite my preference for complex prose, this simple storytelling evokes memories of time spent in my ancestral village, listening to tales told by the elders. Tutuola’s writing style, influenced by oral tradition, captivated my imagination, taking me on a uniquely Nigerian adventure.

Writing about a Nigerian family’s migration from Nigeria to the US, I appreciated Atta’s ability to masterly cover a wide range of issues without losing focus.

I was totally charmed by the remarkable way in which this novel managed to take me along on a journey that ultimately raises deep appreciation of each character’s point of view in the course of touching on issues such as interracial as well as intra-racial tensions and familial strains exacerbated in a new geographic and cultural environment.

I am in love with Lesley’s writing, and everyone should be. Period. I will recommend this book a thousand times. The first time I read it, I was left feeling hopeful–hopeful that stories are soft, intentional, deliberate, magical things that can shift people and places enough to make a difference or change minds. With each story in this collection, Lesley peels away the layers (sometimes softly, sometimes jarring) of lives, relationships, and women.

I think this book is very important because Soyinka shows that the right of the people to protest cannot be restricted by walls or chains. That the oppressor is totally helpless against the will of the people, as also shown in Taduno’s Song by the protagonist Taduno and Kongi, a character modelled on Soyinka. Imprisoned without trial by the authorities at the start of the Nigerian civil war, Wole Soyinka’s prison notes provide records of the twenty 27 months he spent in solitary confinement, the very basis of the words that would cement his place as a prisoner of conscience and give rise to a body of work that would illuminate the world.

All that happens throughout most of this book is that a Nigerian grad student in psychiatry nightly wanders end-to-end the streets of New York City, observing. And yet I couldn’t put this book down, riveted by this angry mind on fire and the differences in the landscape he sees from the one I thought I knew so well.

Author Teju Cole is highly visual, as one would expect from one whose other job as he wrote this was as photography editor of the New York Times Magazine. But then, as you get to the ending of his narrator’s musings, as you feel you have a handle on this plotless novel, the trap is sprung so that you cannot but reevaluate everything that has come before. This book is a stunner!