100 Books Like God of Mercy

The idea to adapt Conrad’s Heart of Darkness came from my teaching of modern world history every semester. Later in that course, I would have students read Achebe’s novel as a foil or answer to Heart of Darkness. The Congolese in Heart are barely people: they have no names, and they are only really described by parts of their bodies.

This book presents the West African world–the communities, the customs, the emotions, the families–that colonialism destroys. While it is easy to be swept away by the story’s momentum in the last two dozen pages, take some time early in the novel to enjoy the world that Achebe lovingly paints. I think it is among the most human expressions of fiction you can read.  

The novel is a portrait of the harsh realities of post-colonial life and a reflection on the complexities of African culture and history. I find that I can relate to the book's exploration of identity and the struggle between tradition and modernity.

Okri's protagonist, Azaro, navigates the physical and spiritual realms in a way that lines up with the Nigerian superstitions which shaped my life from a young age. His journey is believable and familiar in a unique blend of the fantastical with the real.

The lyrical prose and vivid imagery take me home, back to a world where the supernatural is a natural part of life and a cornerstone of the spirituality inherent in Nigerian culture.

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.

Set in precolonial Hausaland, this novel tells the gripping tale of a man on a relentless quest for revenge. The story resonated with me for several reasons, not the least of which was its pre-colonial setting that offered a glimpse into the past.

Ekwensi’s straightforward prose weaves a vibrant tapestry that is rich with cultural details. His portrayal of bravery, determination, and an unwavering sense of justice captivated me from the outset. Reflecting the oral traditions characteristic of Ekwensi’s writing style, the novel imparts social commentary and moral lessons in a manner that I found both entertaining and thought-provoking. 

I read Nzegwu’s book after completing my PhD and it left a lingering impression on me.

Her work effectively challenged conceptualizations of gender that assumed an inherently hierarchical relationship between female and male. It also drew attention to the role of colonial laws and judicial edicts in promoting gender inequality in Nigeria’s Igbo society.

Nzegwu's discussion of the Onitsa dual-sex system that had historically embraced sexual difference but still granted women and men respective powers and responsibilities in society told a different story about gender relations in African societies prior to Western colonialism.

Nzegwu’s work echoes Oyěwùmí’s, and together they offer a window into alternative gender realities we can learn from. 

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.

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.

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.

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.