Reviews with content warning for Self harm - Butter Honey Pig Bread

This book is so sensual - so many descriptions of food--colours, tastes, textures--and Taiye's trysts with various lovers...it's easy to get lost in it in the nicest possible way. It is the story of two twin sisters, Taiye and Kehinde, and their mother Kambirinachi, who is an Ogbanje (a spirit who dies & is reborn, dies & is reborn & is never quite of this world)...it is about being born in Nigeria and leaving to live in Canada or England or Morocco...it is about rifts and healing.
I was astounded at how much the book reminded me of other books, how it sits in that greater world of West African women's fiction, so for instance, Taiye and Kehinde, the twins with a tragedy, the same as in Taiye Selasi's Ghana must go -- and the woman who leads the narration at the opening of the book is an Ogbanje, as in Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi [a book I couldn't finish] -- and the slightly fraught sister relationship as in Half of a yellow sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie -- and the sensual descriptions, particularly of food, reminiscent of The memory of love by Aminatta Forna... It felt, in that way, as part of a great chorus, and what a pleasure to be in that world, again.
I was pleasantly surprised to discover Francesca Ekwuyasi has a Canadian connection - she lives in Halifax! - and the book has an extended section set in Halifax, in fact, which felt familiar in a different way, being a Nova Scotian myself (but not that up on the cool places to go in Halifax, some of which may be renamed or composites).
So, a lovely read.
There were sections that I didn't like as well or that left me with questions - at one point Ekwuyasi falls into the Nigerian vernacular, which is always fun but not if you can't make out what the people are actually saying, and without any gloss for those of us not familiar with that accent. It felt to me like it was so obvious to her what her characters were saying, that she thought the average reader should be able to figure it out...but without a few clues, I'm quite sure I missed bits and I was frustrated rather than educated at that moment.
And I did wonder about the ending -- why did she want to have both a happy and a terrible and tragic ending? What I mean is, some of the denouement felt so easy and smooth as to feel contrived (wished for, idealized, not real), and then some of the ending felt so horrifying and yet poeticized,

as though Kambirinachi's fate was always to die by her own hand, and this was a glorious moment to choose to do it in--as opposed to the wrenching tear that suicide represents for families and how would you really feel if your mother died the day your child was being born? Probably not like it was poetic justice.

I also felt disappointed that there didn't seem to be a true evaluation of privilege: the lavish house, the jet-setting all over the world (including by the gay friend--who was such a great character as well--but you know, once he's done with his homophobic family, off he goes travelling all over the world like it's nothing--what about people who struggle with homophobia and class issues? Who barely scrape by and survive, but no, don't have the means to fly here and there to reunite with their friends for a couple of weeks or go to some new school?) It felt a little Cinderella-y at that point.
Overall, I enjoyed reading this book and will look for more by Ekwuyasi in the years to come.

Content Warnings

adasterism's review against another edition

Go to review page

challenging dark emotional hopeful inspiring reflective sad medium-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? Yes
Loveable characters? Yes
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

Content Warnings

More...