Hello, Vagina by Odega Shawa
Sometimes, you come upon a book that is written with one express intention: to shock. That is precisely what Odega Shawa has hit us with, in Hello, Vagina. From the title to the acknowledgments, to the way the story weaves and races its way from the nooks and crannies of Ajegunle to the cellblocks of Ikoyi prison, and from the battlefields and dreamscapes of her fantasy world to the tortured mind of a psychopath killer with (almost) enough money to make his crimes or the evidence thereof, vanish permanently, this story is crafted to shock and inform you at every turn.
Hello, Vagina examines the reality of society’s rape culture as viewed from the point of lowest slum scum to the highest corridors of power and government, set in an urban jungle that is now metaphor for a sad new tradition.
Sparks and blood fly when a young girl’s dreams come face to face with the animal brutality of a powerful celebrity icon. But is he too subtle to be exposed and too powerful for justice? Find out when you read Hello, Vagina today.
Need a little more assurance before you read? Read this review HERE.
Or you could just skip it and dive into the book HERE.
I Hate my Husband’s Mother by Toyin Fabunmi
This collection explores relationships and their complexities. Fathers and Daughters, Husbands and Wives, Peers and Colleagues. There are also sprinkles of mystery that leaves the reader craving more.
In Torokinkin, a woman’s life is ended for a reason most people will consider flimsy. In Sweet Gossip, a scorned woman takes her revenge on a cheating husband and his lover in a very unusual way, In My Body Wants Freedom, we are introduced to marital rape and how a woman is scarred by it, while in the Lone Bat, we are taken on a journey that leaves us spinning conspiracy theories. And in the title story, a young woman carries the pain of her mother’s loveless marriage. READ MORE
Red Fuse Trip by Azeezat Okunlola
Her pride is now crushed by conscience; she still wouldn’t make it to the last respect. No bit of her would allow that. She has pierced her son’s heart with love – the-selfish-way, yet it lived to appreciate its seed. Had she not ignored the red fuse when it threatened to trip, the walls of everyone’s heart she battered would have held their peace within. She let the insignificant piece of brass that should have held the fuse together loose. Not as though she intended it would be as gross, her hatred for ‘low-class human’ fuelled the dying element.
And even though the acquitted partook in the loss, the fire is on her.
She tripped the RED FUSE!
