The World to Come: Arundhati Roy, Laila Lalami and Pankaj Mishra in Barcelona

I have just walked out of the CCCB in Barcelona, and my head is still buzzing. Tonight, I attended El mundo que vendrá (The World to Come), a debate featuring Arundhati Roy in conversation with Laila Lalami and Pankaj Mishra. Held in the Sala Teatre, in English and Catalan with simultaneous translation, it brought together three remarkable intellectual voices to discuss the world we are living in and, perhaps more importantly, the world we are heading towards. I arrived with questions. I left with even more. And perhaps that was precisely the point.

Where it all starts: capitalism

The conversation opened with globalised capitalism and a provocative argument: corporate globalisation and privatisation go hand in hand with the rise of fascism.

Laila Lalami, born and raised in Morocco, brought a deeply personal dimension to the discussion. She spoke about receiving threats in the United States in the aftermath of the Global War on Terror, and about the pressures capitalism places on individuals and society. One expression that particularly caught my

attention was corporate depression, a feeling that will probably resonate with anyone who has experienced the emotional and psychological toll of working within systems that seem to demand more and more while giving very little back. It was a reminder that capitalism is not simply an economic system. It shapes our working lives, our relationships, our mental space and even our sense of what is possible.

The danger we are only beginning to see

The discussion around artificial intelligence was the part that stayed with me most. The speakers explored how increasingly powerful technological systems are being used to manipulate our minds, influence what we believe and shape how we understand the world. Their concern was not limited to the potential consequences of AI for global financial systems. It extended to something much more fundamental: our capacity to think, learn, create and distinguish reality from manipulation.

They warned of a tsunami of mass psychosis and cognitive decline, alongside a growing loss of understanding of what art actually means. Technology, surveillance and the concentration of corporate power are creating conditions in which our ability to think independently could be increasingly compromised. They described the situation as a lunatic scenario. And perhaps the most unsettling aspect is that we are only beginning to understand its consequences.

Yet the conversation was not entirely pessimistic. We were reminded that we are not

Behold the Dreamers, 2016, Imbolo Mbue ****

Jende Jonga has finally made it to the USA, and after months apart, he's able to bring his wife and son over to join him. The question that drives this novel is simple but weighty: will they actually get to live out their American dream?

What makes Behold the Dreamers stand out is how Mbue weaves the Jongas' story together with that of a Wall Street family. This is not your typical immigrant story. It's a novel about immigration, yes, and about the American dream, but it refuses to move the way you expect it to. I kept waiting for

Theft, 2025, Abdulrazak Gurnah *****

I have always loved Gurnah's novels, the subtlety and compassion with which he narrates complicated human lives, the way he manages to be poetic and utterly engaging at once. When he won the Nobel Prize in 2021, I was ecstatic. He wasn't as widely known as he deserved to be, and his body of work has earned a much wider readership. If you're new to Gurnah, I've reviewed two of his other novels here that I wholeheartedly recommend: Admiring Silence and By the Sea. 

Theft is, on the surface, several stories woven into one. There's Raya, married off by her father as a teenager to

14 Years of Mary Okeke Reviews

 

Fourteen candles. If you'd told me, back when I published my very first post, that I'd still be here fourteen years later writing about the books I love, I'm not sure I would have believed you. And yet here we are.

I started this blog with nothing more than a love for books and a need to talk about them somewhere. No plan, no strategy, just me, a keyboard, and a growing pile of African literary fiction I couldn't stop thinking about. What began as a quiet, personal habit slowly became something much bigger than I ever expected it to be.

Fourteen years later, here's where we are: 290 posts, 1,571 comments, and 1,637,379 views from readers all over the world. Numbers like that still stop me in my tracks. Somewhere out there, over a million and a half times, someone opened a post of mine looking for their next read or maybe just wanting to feel less alone in loving a book nobody around them had heard of. That's the whole reason I do this. Every year I look at the all-time stats and every year they surprise me a little. Some of these are books I wrote about ages ago, and yet readers are still finding them, still reading, still commenting. That's the strange magic of a blog,   a review never really closes.

Sitting at the very top, with over

God's Children Are Little Broken Things, 2022, Arinze Ifeakandu ****

This novel is unlike anything I've read before. It's built on the lives of gay men in Nigeria, a subject I'd only ever encountered in fragments and whispers, never told this openly, this fully, until Arinze Ifeakandu's debut.

Structured as a collection of interlinked stories, the book moves through parents who disown their own children over their sexuality, men who marry women out of fear rather than love, and boys who are bullied, harassed, or falsely accused simply for who they are. But it's also something warmer than that list suggests: a coming-of-age portrait of gay boys and men in Nigeria, how they party, how they flirt, how they build ordinary lives inside an unforgiving world.

Ifeakandu is clearly gifted. His prose is exquisite, the kind you want to slow down for. I'll admit, though, that I sometimes lost the thread with so many characters shifting in and out of focus across stories. It asks for patience, but it rewards it too.

A few stories stayed with me long after I finished the book.

"Where the Heart Sleeps" follows Nonye, who returns home for her father's burial only to find his partner, Tochukwu, still living in the

The Girl with the Louding Voice, 2020, Abi Daré ****

Sometimes a book title alone is enough to make you pause. And then, a few pages in, you realise it has delivered on every promise it made. Abi Daré's debut novel introduces us to Adunni, a girl born and raised in a small village near Lagos, Nigeria. She loses her mother young, her father dismisses her hunger for education without a second thought, and she is married off as a teenager before she even has the chance to understand what womanhood might mean on her own terms. Raped and crushed by one calamity after another, she eventually finds herself in a car headed for Lagos, and it is precisely at that moment that this novel truly ignites. 

Once the city enters the picture, so does a whole constellation of characters, and Daré handles them with the confidence of someone who knows this world intimately, its textures, its hypocrisies, its warmth, its cruelty. At its core, this is a novel about what poverty and the absence of education do to a

Mother Mary Comes to Me, 2025, Arundhati Roy *****

There are writers you admire from a distance, and then there are writers who walk into a room and make you feel as though you've been slightly asleep your whole life. Arundhati Roy is the second kind. I first encountered her in person when she came to my city to promote The Ministry of Utmost Happiness, a book I confess I never got around to reading, despite being entirely captivated by the woman behind it. She spoke about India as a country that lives in several centuries simultaneously. She said the feminist movement there had been NGO-ised. She was sharp, certain, and utterly herself. I left that evening a little in love.

When I heard she was returning to promote a new book, I bought my ticket and my copy immediately. The event was eventually cancelled, a strike, of all things,  but I read the book anyway. And I am so glad I did. Mother Mary Comes to Me is beautiful, unrelenting non-fiction built around the life of Roy's mother, Mrs. Roy, now deceased. She was a woman who, by any conventional measure, was dealt the worst possible hand. And yet she played it with the kind of defiant grace that leaves you breathless. She was determined, it seems, that nothing, not circumstance, not society, not the grinding weight of expectation placed on women in India, would ever bring her all the way down. It never did.

Reading this book, I kept thinking:

Dream Count, 2025, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie ****

Dream Count is the story of four women Chiamaka, Zikora, Kadiatou and Omelogor and from the very first pages, I felt like I had been invited into their private group chat. The kind where ambition, heartbreak, pride and vulnerability all sit at the same table.

Chiamaka is born into wealth and raised in comfort, yet she chooses the uncertain life of a travel writer. She circles the globe while dating vigorously, convinced that somewhere between boarding gates and hotel lounges she will meet the man who completes her story. Zikora, her friend who migrates from Nigeria to the United States, is a sharp corporate lawyer. She wants the wedding of her dreams, the husband of her dreams and the perfectly curated family life. At the same time, she is carrying the quiet ache of wanting to reconcile with her mother. Kadiatou’s story is the one that lingers. Born poor in Guinea Conakry, she becomes Chiamaka’s help. After being raped in a VIP hotel room by a

My 2025 Reading Highlights

Last year, I didn’t just read books, I sat with them. I listened to voices shaped by war, exile, humour, love, ambition, silence, and power. Some made me uncomfortable. Some held me gently. Others stayed with me long after I turned the last page. Looking back, there’s a clear thread running through all of them: Identity: how it is formed, challenged, lost, reclaimed, and reimagined. 

These are the books I read last year, and below is why each one mattered to me.

Bitter Honey, 2025, Lola Akinmade ****

Bitter Honey by Lola Akinmade is a historical fiction novel that follows the life of Nancy, a young Gambian girl with big dreams who migrates to Sweden, only to have those dreams quietly crushed by someone meant to guide her: her university professor. As I read, I could feel the weight of that single moment echo through the rest of her life. The story traces how that derailed ambition stunts her growth and shapes the woman she becomes, influencing everything from her sense of self to the way she raises her children, especially her daughter.

One thing that stood out to me is how Akinmade weaves Nancy’s personal journey into a broader historical landscape. The backdrop of Olof Palme’s assassination, Eurovision, and the Arab Revolution gives the story a textured, time-anchored feel without ever overwhelming the main narrative. It’s history used purposefully, not decoratively.

Despite the heavy themes, the writing itself is far from heavy. It’s an easy, accessible read with a plot that flows smoothly and has all the ingredients of a TV-worthy soap opera; family tension, ambition, heartbreak, identity, and the quiet tragedies that shape us. What struck me the most was

Becoming, 2018, Michelle Obama *****

Michelle Obama’s Becoming is not just a memoir, it’s a journey of resilience, hope, and unwavering grace. From the very first page, Michelle invites us into the heart of her world, painting vivid portraits of her childhood in the South Side of Chicago. She writes with raw honesty about her father, who, despite battling multiple sclerosis, never missed a day of work. His quiet strength, paired with the warmth of a close-knit family and the fierce protection of her brother Craig, gave Michelle the foundation to dream bigger than her circumstances.

What strikes you immediately is her determination. A young girl with ambition that soared far beyond her neighborhood, Michelle thrived in school, eventually making her way to Princeton University. There, she found inspiration in mentors, peers, and a sense of belonging that fueled her path forward. Her brilliance carried her to a prestigious law firm in Chicago, where fate, in the form of a summer intern named Barack Obama, walked through the door.

Reading Michelle’s account of meeting Barack is as refreshing as it is moving. Their early days together, their trip to

The Pole, 2023, J.M. Coetzee ****

What happens when love tries to bloom between two people who don’t speak the same language, literally and emotionally? In The Pole, Nobel laureate J.M. Coetzee explores this fragile, beautiful idea through the unlikely connection between a 70-year-old Polish pianist and Beatriz, a Spanish woman in her late forties, who is unhappily yet securely married.

The story begins in Barcelona, where the Polish artist has been invited to perform. The spark is immediate and one-sided, he is drawn to Beatriz with a quiet, persistent intensity. She, poised and enigmatic, is part of the organizing committee, and what follows

How Dare the Sun Rise: Memoirs of a War Child, 2017, Sandra Uwiringiyimana , Abigail Pesta *****

How Dare the Sun Rise is much more than a memoir, it’s a powerful coming-of-age story that follows the journey of Sandra Uwiringiyimana, a Congolese girl from the Banyamulenge tribe, as she navigates unthinkable tragedy, survival, and transformation.

The book opens with warm recollections of Sandra’s early childhood in Congo. Despite growing up in a region marked by deep-rooted conflict, her memories are filled with joy, family, and a sense of belonging. But everything changes when war breaks out. Forced to flee their home, Sandra and her family seek refuge in Gatumba, a camp in neighboring Burundi. What they hoped would be a safe haven becomes the site of a horrific massacre that claims the life of her beloved younger sister, Deborah.

This traumatic event sets off a chain of circumstances that eventually brings Sandra and her family to the United States. She was only 11 or 12 at the time, and what follows is a deeply personal account of a refugee family trying to adjust to a completely new world, one filled with

Born a Crime: Stories From a South African Childhood, 2016, by Trevor Noah *****

This is not your typical Apartheid story. This is a tale of defiance, resilience, and survival, told with humor so sharp it cuts through the darkest of times. Born a Crime is Trevor Noah’s unfiltered, deeply personal account of his childhood in South Africa, growing up in the shadow of Apartheid and its chaotic aftermath.

At the heart of this story is Trevor’s mother, Patricia Nombuyiselo Noah, a warrior in her own right. Born and raised under the brutal oppression of Apartheid, she refused to let the system define her destiny. Against all odds, she carved out a life for herself, defying laws, norms, and expectations. She chose to have a child, a mixed-race child, with a white man at a time when such a union was not just taboo, but illegal. Yet, she was determined that her son would not inherit the burden of Apartheid.

Trevor takes us through his childhood, raised by a mother whose love was fierce and unwavering. She gave him everything she could, shielding him with her wit, wisdom, and unwavering belief that he was meant for something greater. But just when you think the book is solely about Patricia’s fight, Trevor shifts the focus to himself, his experiences as a biracial child navigating

Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi *****

This book tells the story of two sisters who were both born on the coast of West Africa during the Transatlantic slave trade. Effia remains in Africa, while Esi is sold into slavery. Homegoing follows their lineage down to the 5th generation. Each chapter of the novel is focused on one of their descendants, with some sort of comparison to help you understand what life is like for the people who were sold into slavery and the ones who stayed behind.

In my opinion,

African Literature in translation: Libros de Baobab

I was explaining my literature blog to a good friend of mine, and I was telling her that she could be updated by following my twitter account handle. She followed immediately and asked that I should follow back and I realised that I had turned off my twitter notifications. However, as I logged into my account I noticed that there was an unread message sent to me some three weeks ago. I felt terrible and I proceeded to read it at once.

The message was from my dearest blogger friend, owner of Literafrica it says the following:

Hoy quiero hacerte partícipe de una gran alegría para mi. Un sueño que he podido hacer realidad. Fuiste de las primeras personas que contactó conmigo en este mundo tan extraño como es la red. Siempre recordaré aquel primer contacto que tanto me alegró y me dio fuerzas para seguir. Espero que estés bien y tu pequeño también. Te dejo con mi pequeña aventura, estoy segura de que te alegrarás también. Un abrazo. S.

Today, I want you to be part of some thing that brings me great joy. My dream come true. You were one of the first people that got in touch with me in this strange networking world. I will always remember that first time you contacted me, it gave me

Better Never than Late, 2019, Chika Unigwe *****

This is a collection of short stories that narrates on the lives of Nigerian immigrants in Belgium. it consists of ten short stories somehow interconnected.

The Transfiguration of Rapu: How do you cope when you have to pretend you aren't the real wife because your husband is married to another person in order to legalise his situation.

Finding Faith: My favourite of them all, though it is a sadly engaging story of loss. How do we deal with the loss of our loved ones when we are so far away from home and immersed in a different culture?

If Finding Faith is sadly engaging, the story of Agu and Prosperous is enraging. Their story occupied two chapters of the novel "Becoming Prosperous and Every One Deserves Grace". After the riot that put an end to Agu's business in Jos, he decides

FRIDAS DE BARCELONA

OBJETIVOS DEL 1ER. CÍRCULO INTERNACIONAL DE POESÍA Y ARTE MUJERES PUÑOS

VIOLETA “MI MUNDO SURREALISTA” DE FRIDAS DE BARCELONA Y EL MUNDO:

 Crear difusión a las poetas que se inician en el ámbito poético.

Promover la poesía activista y feminista.

Empoderar a la mujer poeta.

Crear redes entre poetas de todo el mundo.

En virtud de lo anterior, es nuestro deseo crear un círculo energético internacional donde la prioridad sea el empoderamiento de las mujeres alzando su puño violeta en el ámbito de la poesía y el arte activista-feminista, difundiendo a través de nuestros vínculos artísticos la solidaridad y empatía, donde no existan las jerarquías o estatus de poder por trayectoria o premios, que impidan a mujeres desconocidas acceder a divulgar su poesía y arte. Un círculo donde se puedan verbalizar las ideas, emociones o sentimientos a través de la poesía y el arte por el hecho de compartir y nutrirnos para crecer como personas y artistas y con el objetivo final de enviar un mensaje al mundo sobre los derechos humanos.

Travellers, 2019, Helon Habila *****

The main character whose name is not mentioned, leaves Nigeria to complete a phD thesis in the U.S.A, he marries an American, not the way his parents would have expected. However, one thing leads to another and he drifts around. This novel narrates on the people he meets along the way while travelling.

In Berlin, he meets Mark,  deep and mystical, a Malawian student with an expired visa dodging deportation. He comes across  Manu and his daughter Rachida, Libyans  who survive the

Memoirs of a Woman Doctor, 2019, Nawal El Saadawi ****

Nawal El Saadawi, I wonder why she has not yet won the Nobel Literature Prize. Memoirs of a Woman Doctor narrates the story of a girl who is forced to grow up in a society dominated by men. 

"because from early childhood a girl is brought up to believe that she's a body and nothing more, so her body becomes her main concern for the rest of her life, and she doesn't realise that she's got a mind as well which must be looked after and encouraged to develop"

"How can a woman live alone without a man? Why is she going out? Why is she coming in? Why is she smiling? Why is she breathing? Why is she taking gulps of fresh air? Why is she looking at the moon? Why does she hold her head up and open her eyes wide? Why does she tread with confidence and