Acknowledging the Depth of Literature
At least once a month, I am unfortunately graced with the opportunity of viewing tweets where people express just how tired they are of reading literature filled with an unhealthy amount of trauma and sadness. They call it trauma porn, amongst other things, and talk about how these respectable authors may be cursed or simply are void of joy and incapable of delivering emotions that feel rainbow-like.
Readers demand that the work of their favorite authors be consistent in quality, light weight, easy to swallow, and less demanding of their hearts. They want cheesy, “butterflies in my belly” type of text that may make you cry because your heart is filled with so much goodness. I get it, I really do. Not to say that I am someone of very much importance, but my issue with these demands are not with them existing to begin with. My issue is with the way the demands are expressed, and how ‘carelessly’ they are being made on the authors who decided to take on the difficult task to create, because they demanded it from themselves.
It is reductive and almost insulting to pick up or purchase a book of about two hundred and fifty pages on average, and complain that it is filled with too many heart aching sentences. Authors constantly talk about the journey and process of writing; how it takes from them, how getting a sentence that works well and right for them takes so much time-drafting and redrafting, editing, and re-editing, reading over and over and over again to get the right kind of delivery. There is an emotional demand our favorite authors must meet to give us the work they create, a type of expectation that requires them to dig deep in themselves and present what they find to us in ways they hope we appreciate. Their writing cost them a part of themselves.
I think we are all deserving of grace, especially in criticism. Grace not because the writing is done wrong or below an acceptable standard, but grace because we are all deserving of it. People criticize without understanding the source of the story; where it’s come from, how it was written, why was this a story someone decided needed to be told?. There have been far too many unkind words about the works of people who write from history and its continued effects. There are even more unkind words about the works of our authors who write from the stories of realities of our people. I think these stories with all their tragedy and volumes are important and necessary. Africa does make us acutely aware of the experiences it carries, it does not keep record of it for reference. However real or blurred the line is between fiction and non-fiction, these stories give us a glimpse of what continues to happen.
Our histories are not all the same, our cultures and how they’ve advanced, our languages and religions, the experiences of our men women and children, all these things carry different shades of life and death. However, drenched in suffering and sorrow, or pleasure and joy, enjoying what we have been gifted with is what we owe the writers who tell the stories. I am grateful to be able to drop a book I do not like, for another that I’m certain I will enjoy. There is always room for more.
As much as we are privileged enough to experience many fantastic literary texts, we owe it to ourselves to create the things we want to see. Whether they are borne from our experiences or otherwise. Recently, one of my best friends lent me a book that contained all the themes he had been thinking of throwing in a bowl to make the mix of a very unlikely book. I read the book so intricately and couldn’t believe how much of my friend was in it. But it was a book, very much like him, but not written by him. It is possible to bring what you want to life with your words. Our beloved Toni Morrison spoke about writing the books we really want to read that haven’t been written. Creating what we long for is a demand we make on ourselves, not the people already doing what they want. All good things that we see and experience, became out of the necessity of the creator’s self.
But whilst we decide what it is we want to do;to write the books we want to read or not, we must also take on the responsibility of finding the stories that reflect the ones we tell ourselves. There are way too many books and authors in the world to discover, and explore, rather than placing the responsibilities of our expectations on an already marginalized community. Even the people who look like us (Black African, Black American and Black Caribbean), write books that keep us stuck in our heads because the words go through our eyes like a breeze. They are all there, right next to the heavy ones, waiting to be discovered.
I think in criticizing literature, our focus should be on the delivery of themes, the progression, the plot, and the overall quality of everything that we work on. We should consider how well we appreciate a particular sentence in the text, and how hard it makes us think and feel. We should consider whether or not the time we have spent with the book was difficult in the sense that it was difficult to follow through because of grammar and punctuation. Feeling too much sadness or joy should never be the measure for how good a book or poem is. We cannot dictate what themes we expect writers to incorporate in their work. It is entirely up to them, not us. Your job is to sit with how it makes you feel and decide whether or not you want to feel like that again, maybe a little less or even a lot more.
I think readers should be more curious about the idea behind the text. We should have questions for the author on things like the inspiration, the process, what challenges they face, how did they know when all their writings were ready to be books. There is a wealth of interviews with all our favorite authors on the internet. There are book readings and signings to attend. There are workshops. It is not our responsibility to understand writers, but I think it is better to understand than instruct on what should be produced. Writing is majorly life and feeling.
Because I am a good person, I have put down a list of 10 lighthearted books and 5 in-betweeners for the girls and boys to dive into. They are sweet and carry some very important things. Some of them are also, in my opinion, very forgettable. But I am a sucker for the heart gripping and soul crushing texts.
Lighthearted Reads (Mostly)
When We Were Birds- Ayanna Lloyd Banwo
Sankofa- Chibundu Onuzo
Things They Lost- Okwiri Oduor
Nearly All the Men in Lagos are Mad- Damilare Kuku
For You I’d Steal a Goat- Niq Mhlongo
Dazzling- Chikodili Emelumadu
Dele Weds Destiny- Tomi Obaro
It's not All Down Hill from Here- Terry McMillan
Before I Let Go- Kenedy Ryan
The Sex Lives of African Women- Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah
The In-Betweeners
Black Cake- Charmaine Wilkerson
Freshwater- Akwaeke Emezi
Transcendent Kingdom- Yaa Gyasi
We Need New Names- NoViolet Bulawayo
Vagabonds! - Eloghosa Osunde