The most prominent thing about this book is how raw and, at times, painful it is. It is a resounding metaphor for how focusing on history is a painful struggle as much as it is a necessity. The themes and metaphors are there. I got the feeling while reading it that this had a message specifically catered to the black community. However, as I'm a white woman, I can't say that for certain. But I would be interested to read how a black reviewer interprets this story.
I appreciated that the wajinru definitely felt like something "other" while having enough "two-leg" feelings for the reader to make a connection. Their concept of gender and sexuality was intricately theirs and I appreciated that. And as Rivers Solomon is non-binary, that feels like it's own voices in a way as well.
In general, this is not a book for someone looking for a light or comforting read. It's made to make the reader think. It's made to make them uncomfortable. But it gets the story across in vivid detail, with plenty of love given to African culture and gender/sexuality diversity.
If you're someone that wants something unapologetically different that asks you to look pain and loss in the face, then this is exactly the book for you.
I appreciated that the wajinru definitely felt like something "other" while having enough "two-leg" feelings for the reader to make a connection. Their concept of gender and sexuality was intricately theirs and I appreciated that. And as Rivers Solomon is non-binary, that feels like it's own voices in a way as well.
In general, this is not a book for someone looking for a light or comforting read. It's made to make the reader think. It's made to make them uncomfortable. But it gets the story across in vivid detail, with plenty of love given to African culture and gender/sexuality diversity.
If you're someone that wants something unapologetically different that asks you to look pain and loss in the face, then this is exactly the book for you.