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A Kind of Madness: Stories
“Steady-handed and gut-punching. I’m in awe.”—NoViolet Bulawayo
An Oprah Daily Most Anticipated Book of 2024
A searing, unflinching collection of stories set in Nigeria that explores themes of community expectations, familial strife, and the struggle for survival.
A teenage girl from a poor family is dazzled by her rich, vivacious friend, but as the friend’s behavior grows unstable and dangerous, she must decide whether to cover for her or risk telling the truth to get her the help she needs. A young woman and her mother bask in the envy of their neighbors when the woman receives an offer of marriage from the family of a doctor living in Belgium—though when the offer fails to materialize, that envy threatens to turn vicious, pitting them both against their community. And a lonely daughter finds herself wandering a village in eastern Nigeria in an ill-fated quest, struggling to come to terms with her mother’s mental illness.
In ten vivid, evocative stories set in contemporary Nigeria, Uche Okonkwo’s A Kind of Madness unravels the tensions between mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, best friends, siblings, and more, marking the arrival of an extraordinary new talent in fiction and inviting us all to consider the why is it that the people and places we hold closest are so often the ones that drive us to madness?
An Oprah Daily Most Anticipated Book of 2024
A searing, unflinching collection of stories set in Nigeria that explores themes of community expectations, familial strife, and the struggle for survival.
A teenage girl from a poor family is dazzled by her rich, vivacious friend, but as the friend’s behavior grows unstable and dangerous, she must decide whether to cover for her or risk telling the truth to get her the help she needs. A young woman and her mother bask in the envy of their neighbors when the woman receives an offer of marriage from the family of a doctor living in Belgium—though when the offer fails to materialize, that envy threatens to turn vicious, pitting them both against their community. And a lonely daughter finds herself wandering a village in eastern Nigeria in an ill-fated quest, struggling to come to terms with her mother’s mental illness.
In ten vivid, evocative stories set in contemporary Nigeria, Uche Okonkwo’s A Kind of Madness unravels the tensions between mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, best friends, siblings, and more, marking the arrival of an extraordinary new talent in fiction and inviting us all to consider the why is it that the people and places we hold closest are so often the ones that drive us to madness?
225 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 1, 2024
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March 26, 2024
In a Nutshell: A collection of stories set in contemporary Nigeria, covering various kinds of “madness”, but not necessarily the one you would assume. I enjoyed the setting, the writing, as well as the content. Much recommended!
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I wouldn’t say that this collection of ten stories took me by surprise. Most OwnVoices African anthologies or story collections I have read have been outstanding, and I am glad that this book continues the positive trend.
There is no introductory or author’s note, but the theme of the collection is quite clear from the title and the blurb. The title highlights how a ‘kind of madness’ is the driving force behind these stories. The primary focus is on relationships, whether familial or societal. Expectations lead people to do crazy things, and that’s the kind of crazy we see haunting the pages of this brilliant book. The emotions behind the characters’ actions come out so well through the author’s pen!
What I especially loved is that the stories are NOT about literal madness. ‘Madness’ as a word has so many meanings: obsession, insanity, temporary craziness, weirdness, unsoundness of mind, foolishness,… The narratives span across many of these meanings, thereby proving how all of us human beings are mad at times. (Probably, most times!) Each story feels distinct in its style and content, because of which there was no sign of the fatigue that usually props up in themed anthologies.
There is a strong flavour of Nigeria in the writing, and by this, I don’t mean the Nigeria that the media shows us or the stereotypical negatives alone. We see the food, the culture, the beliefs, the parenting style, the social norms, and the gender-based requirements. We see the juxtaposition of the traditional with the modern. We see characters caught in tough circumstances, with their response deciding what will happen next. Of course, given the title, the negative features outweigh the positives in almost every story, but there is still a strength to the characters that attaches a sense of hope – often unfounded – even to dire circumstances.
Many short stories are made or broken by their endings. In this set, the endings are partially incomplete but not abrupt; only avid short fiction readers might understand what I mean by this line. The stories stop at the right transitional moment in the life of the characters, the point at which the main topic of the story is either settled or given up on. This isn’t a book you should pick if you want happy endings or settled conclusions. To me, the endings were perfect!
As always, I rated the stories individually. Of the ten stories, only three stories ended up between 3 and 3.5 stars. The rest were all 4 stars and above. These were my top favourites:
All in all, this is one of the best story collections I've read in a long while. I love OwnVoices works, and this book shows how brilliantly an authentic voice can elevate our reading experience.
Strongly recommended to all readers of short fiction and all lovers of African or culturally-themed or OwnVoices fiction.
4.1 stars, based on the average of my rating for each tale. (If you are familiar with how mathematical averages work, you will know that this is an outstanding average for a story collection.)
My thanks to Tin House and NetGalley for the DRC of “A Kind of Madness”. This review is voluntary and contains my honest opinion about the book.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Connect with me through:
My Blog || The StoryGraph || Instagram || X/Twitter || Facebook ||
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I wouldn’t say that this collection of ten stories took me by surprise. Most OwnVoices African anthologies or story collections I have read have been outstanding, and I am glad that this book continues the positive trend.
There is no introductory or author’s note, but the theme of the collection is quite clear from the title and the blurb. The title highlights how a ‘kind of madness’ is the driving force behind these stories. The primary focus is on relationships, whether familial or societal. Expectations lead people to do crazy things, and that’s the kind of crazy we see haunting the pages of this brilliant book. The emotions behind the characters’ actions come out so well through the author’s pen!
What I especially loved is that the stories are NOT about literal madness. ‘Madness’ as a word has so many meanings: obsession, insanity, temporary craziness, weirdness, unsoundness of mind, foolishness,… The narratives span across many of these meanings, thereby proving how all of us human beings are mad at times. (Probably, most times!) Each story feels distinct in its style and content, because of which there was no sign of the fatigue that usually props up in themed anthologies.
There is a strong flavour of Nigeria in the writing, and by this, I don’t mean the Nigeria that the media shows us or the stereotypical negatives alone. We see the food, the culture, the beliefs, the parenting style, the social norms, and the gender-based requirements. We see the juxtaposition of the traditional with the modern. We see characters caught in tough circumstances, with their response deciding what will happen next. Of course, given the title, the negative features outweigh the positives in almost every story, but there is still a strength to the characters that attaches a sense of hope – often unfounded – even to dire circumstances.
Many short stories are made or broken by their endings. In this set, the endings are partially incomplete but not abrupt; only avid short fiction readers might understand what I mean by this line. The stories stop at the right transitional moment in the life of the characters, the point at which the main topic of the story is either settled or given up on. This isn’t a book you should pick if you want happy endings or settled conclusions. To me, the endings were perfect!
As always, I rated the stories individually. Of the ten stories, only three stories ended up between 3 and 3.5 stars. The rest were all 4 stars and above. These were my top favourites:
🐍 Nwunye Belgium: An impactful take about how counting your chickens before the eggs hatch is nothing but a recipe for disaster. Loved the characters and the emotions in this story. - ⭐⭐⭐⭐✨
🐍 Long Hair: A story that begins with a simple jealousy and explodes into a nightmare. Loved the use of the first person in this one. - ⭐⭐⭐⭐✨
🐍 Animals: Brilliant! Rarely does an author nail a short story written from multiple character perspectives! Loved how complex the characters and their emotions were. - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
🐍 Eden: When two siblings discover some naughty movies, their young minds are filled with queries, forgetting the repercussions of their inquiry. I adored the poignant feel of this story. Never have I seen a story revolving around porn to be so emotionally charged! It also exposes the double standards of adults. Excellent! - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
🐍 Burning: A sad story about a little girl who's caught up in the turmoil of her mother's mental health issues. Heartbreaking! I felt like entering the setting and giving the girl a tight hug. Some adults simply don't see their own shortcomings. - ⭐⭐⭐⭐✨
All in all, this is one of the best story collections I've read in a long while. I love OwnVoices works, and this book shows how brilliantly an authentic voice can elevate our reading experience.
Strongly recommended to all readers of short fiction and all lovers of African or culturally-themed or OwnVoices fiction.
4.1 stars, based on the average of my rating for each tale. (If you are familiar with how mathematical averages work, you will know that this is an outstanding average for a story collection.)
My thanks to Tin House and NetGalley for the DRC of “A Kind of Madness”. This review is voluntary and contains my honest opinion about the book.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Connect with me through:
My Blog || The StoryGraph || Instagram || X/Twitter || Facebook ||
January 9, 2024
When I read the description of this book, I was immediately excited and much to my delight it was everything I hoped it would be and then some! I absolutely devoured it, once I started I just couldn't put it down and once I turned the final page the last story had me staring at the wall for a solid 20 minutes just processing it. The stories seem deceptively short and simple, almost minimalist at times, but they linger with a surprising staying power and demand that you sit with them and pick them apart in a particularly unflinching way.
The prose is smooth and Okonkwo's literary skills come across a polished and fine tuned and I'm a sucker for a nice prose so this one delivered the proverbial goods on that front.
This book isn't marketed as horror but I suspect a couple of the stories would appeal to fans of a more subtle and psychological form of horror (there are few things more horrifying than the human mind after all).
Long story short, A Kind of Madness was absolutely delightful.
Many thanks to Tin House Books for providing me a digital review copy of this book.
The prose is smooth and Okonkwo's literary skills come across a polished and fine tuned and I'm a sucker for a nice prose so this one delivered the proverbial goods on that front.
This book isn't marketed as horror but I suspect a couple of the stories would appeal to fans of a more subtle and psychological form of horror (there are few things more horrifying than the human mind after all).
Long story short, A Kind of Madness was absolutely delightful.
Many thanks to Tin House Books for providing me a digital review copy of this book.
January 2, 2025
☆ ── four stars 💌
Unisex names are such an exciting thing to me. They unconsciously free us from harmful biases and allow us to view a piece of art from a more unprejudiced point of view. When I started reading A Kind of Madness, I automatically assumed the author to be a man, merely based on the fact that all the Uchés I've met have been men, thus far. Of course, the gender of an author isn't something that influences my reading experience, but when I got to the story, The Girl Who Lied, I had to take a pause and search for the author. The story resonated so much with me, and the way it was written made so much more sense once I'd discovered the author was a woman.
A Kind of Madness is a delicious collection of short stories, set in contemporary Nigeria, focusing on a different kind of madness plaguing the characters in each story. From the greed in Nwunye Belgium, to the jealousy in Long Hair, this collection never disappoints. Uché's writing is nothing short of beautiful. Each story pulls you in, demanding your full attention and giving you nothing less than what you need. From the prose to the flow of each story, it is evident that she is a talented writer.
Of course, there are certain stories I favour over others, and while every story was good, these ones resonated very deeply with me;
⌗┆Long Hair: a story about how jealousy and rumours ruin the lives of teenage girls.
⌗┆Animals: the story of the turmoil that follows after a police officer accosts a family during a drive.
⌗┆Milk and Oil: the story of a girl ashamed of her living status who is jealous of her rich, sickle cell friend who gets special treatment.
⌗┆The Girl Who Lied : a girl who suffers from mental health issues, her neglectful mother and a friend who has to choose between getting her the help she needs or keeping her close.
⋮ "Some days, Kemi is so real to me that I can feel her breath on my back, hear her ringing laughter. Other days, she’s just a ghost haunting the halls of my mind."
Out of all of them, The Girl Who Lied was my favourite. To say I enjoyed this collection would be an understatement. To me, this is the standard I expect from just about any book I read. It knows what it is, and while a few stories lingered longer than I think they should have, I absolutely recommend everyone read this book!
Unisex names are such an exciting thing to me. They unconsciously free us from harmful biases and allow us to view a piece of art from a more unprejudiced point of view. When I started reading A Kind of Madness, I automatically assumed the author to be a man, merely based on the fact that all the Uchés I've met have been men, thus far. Of course, the gender of an author isn't something that influences my reading experience, but when I got to the story, The Girl Who Lied, I had to take a pause and search for the author. The story resonated so much with me, and the way it was written made so much more sense once I'd discovered the author was a woman.
A Kind of Madness is a delicious collection of short stories, set in contemporary Nigeria, focusing on a different kind of madness plaguing the characters in each story. From the greed in Nwunye Belgium, to the jealousy in Long Hair, this collection never disappoints. Uché's writing is nothing short of beautiful. Each story pulls you in, demanding your full attention and giving you nothing less than what you need. From the prose to the flow of each story, it is evident that she is a talented writer.
Of course, there are certain stories I favour over others, and while every story was good, these ones resonated very deeply with me;
⌗┆Long Hair: a story about how jealousy and rumours ruin the lives of teenage girls.
⌗┆Animals: the story of the turmoil that follows after a police officer accosts a family during a drive.
⌗┆Milk and Oil: the story of a girl ashamed of her living status who is jealous of her rich, sickle cell friend who gets special treatment.
⌗┆The Girl Who Lied : a girl who suffers from mental health issues, her neglectful mother and a friend who has to choose between getting her the help she needs or keeping her close.
⋮ "Some days, Kemi is so real to me that I can feel her breath on my back, hear her ringing laughter. Other days, she’s just a ghost haunting the halls of my mind."
Out of all of them, The Girl Who Lied was my favourite. To say I enjoyed this collection would be an understatement. To me, this is the standard I expect from just about any book I read. It knows what it is, and while a few stories lingered longer than I think they should have, I absolutely recommend everyone read this book!
July 17, 2025
I love a short story collection and this was no different. Okonkwo brings to life modern day Nigeria in a very real way. Each story offers a richness in character, culture and themes. I loved how immersive and different each story was.
January 28, 2025
I didn’t think I would enjoy this collection as much as I did, given it was completely different to what I expected after reading the synopsis! A mesmerising collection of short stories, a kaleidoscopic view into Nigerian culture through the author’s gripping writing.
I loved this collection because it gives us a glimpse of a different culture (at least different from mine as an Italian), but at the same time it shows that no matter the background, the human brain is capable of conjuring their own madness out of everyday events, albeit some very distressful.
This is what I found compelling about these short stories, the ability of the writer to make the reader feel what the characters felt: average people like kids, a pastor, a daughter, a brother and a sister and so on, can summon their own madness from their inner processing of their environment and circumstances.
I loved the author’s writing, so colourful, even when painting a dark story, you could picture the different shades of black and grey! And the mental images emerging in my mind whilst reading made this collection so easy to read and at the same time so impactful.
I am so glad I had the chance to read this author, and I can’t recommend it enough!
Thanks to the author and VERVE Books for a copy and this is my honest opinion.
I loved this collection because it gives us a glimpse of a different culture (at least different from mine as an Italian), but at the same time it shows that no matter the background, the human brain is capable of conjuring their own madness out of everyday events, albeit some very distressful.
This is what I found compelling about these short stories, the ability of the writer to make the reader feel what the characters felt: average people like kids, a pastor, a daughter, a brother and a sister and so on, can summon their own madness from their inner processing of their environment and circumstances.
I loved the author’s writing, so colourful, even when painting a dark story, you could picture the different shades of black and grey! And the mental images emerging in my mind whilst reading made this collection so easy to read and at the same time so impactful.
I am so glad I had the chance to read this author, and I can’t recommend it enough!
Thanks to the author and VERVE Books for a copy and this is my honest opinion.
March 9, 2024
ARC gifted by the publisher
This searing collection tells the stories of madness—the literal type and those private feelings that drive one mad. From familial and societal expectations, the sense of not belonging in one's own family, teenage angst and jealousy, insatiable desire, and the hypocrisy of adults, Okonkwo deftly explores the multitudes of madness via 10 unique stories.
I adored the vivid writing in MADNESS, which, through sparse yet potent prose, provokes a profound sense of grief and helplessness. Each story shares a distinct angle of "madness," and I'm utterly impressed with this collection. My favs are:
• Shadow: a lonely boy finds solace in his childless aunt and plans his "adoption escape"
• Animal: a chasm splits a family in half after a police encounter
• Milk, Blood, Oil: a girl with sickle cell disease, her overprotective caretakers, and her friend who grows jealous of the special treatments
• Eden: two siblings discover their dad's porn video collection
• Burning: a mom takes her daughter to different local shamans to "treat her disease"
This searing collection tells the stories of madness—the literal type and those private feelings that drive one mad. From familial and societal expectations, the sense of not belonging in one's own family, teenage angst and jealousy, insatiable desire, and the hypocrisy of adults, Okonkwo deftly explores the multitudes of madness via 10 unique stories.
I adored the vivid writing in MADNESS, which, through sparse yet potent prose, provokes a profound sense of grief and helplessness. Each story shares a distinct angle of "madness," and I'm utterly impressed with this collection. My favs are:
• Shadow: a lonely boy finds solace in his childless aunt and plans his "adoption escape"
• Animal: a chasm splits a family in half after a police encounter
• Milk, Blood, Oil: a girl with sickle cell disease, her overprotective caretakers, and her friend who grows jealous of the special treatments
• Eden: two siblings discover their dad's porn video collection
• Burning: a mom takes her daughter to different local shamans to "treat her disease"
March 27, 2025
A refreshing collection of short stories based in Nigeria that feels like a breathe of fresh air in a muffled room. The stories are simple & short but they still tug at your heart when you are done reading them. To me, these stories are a reminder that everyone is out here looking for something, approval from a distant parent, a quiet mind, an escape from financial struggles, a community…and looking from the outside, we might be hasty in judging this search as a kind of madness, but aren’t we all 'mad' on this quest for the unknown?
Let me sit down & make a list of my 'madness'!
Let me sit down & make a list of my 'madness'!
December 20, 2025
I’m not sure what it is, but for me this whole collection went down so smoothly as to be easily forgettable, and much of my time while reading it was occupied in trying to figure out why I wasn’t loving it. It’s not a matter of quality: the writing is strong, the characters and their situations feel real. There’s a good amount of variation in the stories, following a variety of people (primarily but not exclusively children) in contemporary Nigeria and their relationships with family and friends. The subject matter is not especially tame or safe, and yet for some reason the collection doesn’t stand out to me the way it feels like it deserves to. There’s not a single bad story in the bunch, so why do I feel so lukewarm about it?
Some quick notes on the individual stories:
“Nwunye Belgium”: Follows a young woman whose mother tries to marry her to a friend’s wealthy son, who lives in Belgium. This one is effective yet exhausting for just how petty the community is, a trait fortunately less prominent in other stories.
“Shadow”: A young boy prefers his aunt to his immediate family, until realizing how different her view of their situation is.
“Debris”: A short tale of a street boy discovering his power in an unfortunate way.
“Long Hair”: A boarding school story from the perspective of an unreliable narrator, a girl who is a poisonous gossip.
“Animals”: This one is ultimately about power. Four members of a family grappling with the effects of police harassment, and tussling over whether their new chicken is food or a pet. All the perspectives are believable, but the story is a harsh one.
“Milk and Oil”: A girl makes a new friend who comes from a better-off family but has a chronic illness. I liked the rare warm ending, the protagonist experiencing growth without a major loss.
“The Harvest”: A preacher discovers that prosperity gospel only works for the rich. Entertainingly different.
“Eden”: Two young children are punished for getting into their father’s porn. A lot of adult hypocrisy and harshness on display.
“The Girl Who Lied”: Another boarding school story, this from the perspective of a girl who seems to be the only one to realize how much her new friend is struggling—unfortunately, the adults get it even less than the young protagonist does.
“Burning”: A girl growing up with a single mother who seems to attribute her own malaise to something supernaturally wrong with her daughter. Strong, but might’ve been stronger if the young protagonist were a little less wise.
Overall, I did like this collection, although I wish the stories had been a little more powerful for me. While billed as a collection about “madness,” there’s really very little mental illness here, and if I were to name a single theme for the collection I’d describe it as focusing on children trying to survive in an adult world. I’ll be interested to see what this author does next.
Some quick notes on the individual stories:
“Nwunye Belgium”: Follows a young woman whose mother tries to marry her to a friend’s wealthy son, who lives in Belgium. This one is effective yet exhausting for just how petty the community is, a trait fortunately less prominent in other stories.
“Shadow”: A young boy prefers his aunt to his immediate family, until realizing how different her view of their situation is.
“Debris”: A short tale of a street boy discovering his power in an unfortunate way.
“Long Hair”: A boarding school story from the perspective of an unreliable narrator, a girl who is a poisonous gossip.
“Animals”: This one is ultimately about power. Four members of a family grappling with the effects of police harassment, and tussling over whether their new chicken is food or a pet. All the perspectives are believable, but the story is a harsh one.
“Milk and Oil”: A girl makes a new friend who comes from a better-off family but has a chronic illness. I liked the rare warm ending, the protagonist experiencing growth without a major loss.
“The Harvest”: A preacher discovers that prosperity gospel only works for the rich. Entertainingly different.
“Eden”: Two young children are punished for getting into their father’s porn. A lot of adult hypocrisy and harshness on display.
“The Girl Who Lied”: Another boarding school story, this from the perspective of a girl who seems to be the only one to realize how much her new friend is struggling—unfortunately, the adults get it even less than the young protagonist does.
“Burning”: A girl growing up with a single mother who seems to attribute her own malaise to something supernaturally wrong with her daughter. Strong, but might’ve been stronger if the young protagonist were a little less wise.
Overall, I did like this collection, although I wish the stories had been a little more powerful for me. While billed as a collection about “madness,” there’s really very little mental illness here, and if I were to name a single theme for the collection I’d describe it as focusing on children trying to survive in an adult world. I’ll be interested to see what this author does next.
December 1, 2024
The last two or three stories were really strong, but I felt that the rest were tame enough that I was in no hurry to finish them. I appreciated the writing style and Okonkwo’s ability to transport me to Nigeria
November 22, 2024
More like a 4.5, but rounding down to a 4 because some stories were amazing and a few didn't fully hit. Overall, the collection was varied, interesting and covered a range of topics and life experiences. When it came to representing a child's point of view, the book was nuanced and encapsulated feelings like the growing pains of coming-of-age, jealousy, and rejection accurately.
January 29, 2024
3 stars - review coming late lol
To be released April 16, 2024, this upcoming collection of short stories by Uche Okonkwo dives deep into the lives of Nigerian women dealing with all sorts of feelings – from anger and sadness to shame and longing. With ten tales packed in, each story brings its own vibe, whether it's about a broke girl feeling jealous of her rich friend or a daughter wandering through town trying to cope with her mom's mental health struggles. Tackling themes of madness, both literal and figurative, "A Kind of Madness" serves up a poetic ride through survival and the tough stuff life throws our way. I did find that some of the stories were a bit dull (?), which I guess is the point; different levels of madness. It just felt like some of the stories could have been a bit more exciting.
To be released April 16, 2024, this upcoming collection of short stories by Uche Okonkwo dives deep into the lives of Nigerian women dealing with all sorts of feelings – from anger and sadness to shame and longing. With ten tales packed in, each story brings its own vibe, whether it's about a broke girl feeling jealous of her rich friend or a daughter wandering through town trying to cope with her mom's mental health struggles. Tackling themes of madness, both literal and figurative, "A Kind of Madness" serves up a poetic ride through survival and the tough stuff life throws our way. I did find that some of the stories were a bit dull (?), which I guess is the point; different levels of madness. It just felt like some of the stories could have been a bit more exciting.
May 5, 2024
I though some stories had a real simple elegance to them. “Nwunye Belgium”, and “Long Hair” were especially great in their direct story telling. “The Girl Who Lied” was easily my favorite because it was a masterclass in show don’t tell.
That’s the great on the other side I thought “Burning” just kind of ambled along, “Eden” never really hit, and “Shadow” was meh….
It was a great start to get a sense of her voice and I’m excited to see what she does next.
That’s the great on the other side I thought “Burning” just kind of ambled along, “Eden” never really hit, and “Shadow” was meh….
It was a great start to get a sense of her voice and I’m excited to see what she does next.
May 17, 2025
3.5. I loved the one story titled The Girl Who Lied; I tried not to cry!
February 4, 2024
The stories included in this collection have the common thread of exploring some kind of “madness”, whether perceived, clinical, obsession, depression, etc. Told from many different prospectives, including adults and children? All set in Lagos, it definitely gave a feeling of immersion. I would give the individual stories ratings between 3-4 stars, but overall enjoyable and interesting reading experience.
June 10, 2024
3.5 wonderfully nostalgic and structurally sound. the stories are evocative and clever. I enjoyed most of them, but wanted a bit more, wanted it to tug at my understanding and ideas of the world a bit more (for the ideas in the story to stretch beyond the story)
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June 26, 2026Animals was great! All the other short stories in this collection were quite alright or so; not really worth the trouble I'd say. I am glad, however, to see it made its way into international literature without being written (by and) for white people (again). (Although having read it, white people – and in this case I am unfortunately one of them – can call themselves a bit more cosmpolitan again, truly men of the world.)
January 11, 2024
Great and wonky set of short stories about madness and insanity and how people can spiral. Thanks for the arc
November 21, 2024
This book of short stories from a Nigerian writer are strong and powerful. I loved her writing.
March 4, 2026
The 1st story will pull you into the book, and as you sail along, some of the stories are banal.
Makes for an interesting read for a mind that just wants to relate.
Makes for an interesting read for a mind that just wants to relate.
October 8, 2026
A compelling collection of short stories set in Nigeria, many from the perspective of children.
July 13, 2026
Reading this book ultimately presented yet another futile attempt to share in that seemingly “elusive” joy which other readers apparently derive so easily from short stories. In fact, this feels almost like déjà vu, as it closely mirrors the reluctant frustration and loud disappointment of my unmet expectations when, nearly ten years ago, I tried to read Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s collection of short stories, "The Thing Around Your Neck", shortly after being utterly impressed by her novel "Half of a Yellow Sun". At the time, I remember going into "The Thing Around Your Neck" excited and assured. I even liked the first story well enough, but somewhere in the second story it became apparent that Chimamanda might be “losing me,” and this happened sooner than I had anticipated. By the third story, I had to face reality and ended up DNF-ing the book. Incredibly, almost ten years later, here I am, in a kind of cruel cynicism, enduring virtually the same experience with Uche Okonkwo’s collection. In fact, the resemblance between both reading experiences is so striking that, if I had not spent money on this book, I would have freely and humorously enjoyed the irony of it all. Alas, here we are, along with the creeping yet increasingly loud realization that perhaps short stories might simply never be my cup of tea.
Notwithstanding that, it must be said that a critical nuance between Okonkwo and Chimamanda should be appreciated. With Chimamanda’s collection, I honestly did not find most of the stories particularly interesting, nor did I always appreciate the message she was attempting to convey through them. Now, with the benefit of hindsight and a more honest understanding of my own reading habits, perhaps it was a misdiagnosis on my part. Back then, I assumed, wrongly as it now seems, that Chimamanda was simply writing dry or boring short stories, rather than recognizing that it might have been the nature of the genre itself that frustrated me. I say all that because, with Okonkwo’s collection, that particular grievance was almost immediately neutralized. The first short story in "In a Kind of Madness" was nothing short of impressive. I do not use that word lightly. I was genuinely hooked, and the ending carried unexpected emotional power and earned gravitas. Yes, it was impressive. But clearly, some of us cannot have nice things. Just as I began to believe I had finally satisfied my curiosity, not just about enjoying short stories, but understanding why and how others do, the next three stories, almost mockingly, became increasingly torturous to read and difficult to appreciate in terms of their purpose. It was a begrudging setback to accept, but by the third story, I had frankly lost all desire and investment in the book.
Nevertheless, such was the spellbinding effect of the first story, and yes, this is why I keep calling it impressive, that, like a gambler on his last dollar, still buoyed by the memory of his first big win, I kept going. Despite the mounting evidence that I was no longer enjoying the book, I continued reading, driven by the hope that another story of equal force and gravitas lay ahead, as well as a sense of personal accountability not to give up too quickly. I read until I was approximately 75 percent through the book before finally asking myself what exactly I was trying to prove by continuing. At that point, it became clear that I was no longer enjoying the experience. So it may very well be that the page on which I stopped reading Uche Okonkwo’s collection will be the last page of any short story collection I voluntarily pick up. And, honestly, it is somewhat comforting to admit that I may simply not be a short story kind of reader. This realization feels less like frustration with a limited sample size and more like an honest acknowledgment that the very mechanics of short stories make the enjoyment curve steeper than necessary for me.
I say this not as a slight against the genre. It is not a failure of short stories; it may simply be a limitation of my temperament as a reader. There are, of course, those who admire the precision of the form, the ability to construct an entire emotional universe within twenty or thirty pages, and I can appreciate that intellectually. I can even enjoy it when it is done exceptionally well, as it was in the opening story of this collection. But I must stop approaching every new short story collection as though this time the outcome will somehow be different.
Nevertheless, apart from my own idiosyncratic and increasingly apparent resistance toward short stories, there were aspects of "In a Kind of Madness" that did not help facilitate my enjoyment of it. The most conspicuous was what I can only describe, while admitting that I may be inventing a word, as the over-Igboization of the book. Every one of the five or six stories I read before DNF-ing appeared to consist almost entirely of Igbo characters. And I do not simply mean that the central characters were Igbo while the supporting or peripheral characters came from other ethnic and cultural groups one would naturally encounter in a country as diverse as Nigeria. No. Nearly every name, every family, every friendship, every marriage, and almost every social environment seemed to exist entirely within the same Igbo cultural universe.
Now, before anyone misreads my intent, there is absolutely nothing wrong with an Igbo writer writing about Igbo people. Needless to say, Uche Okonkwo is entitled to write from within the culture she knows, understands, and loves. In fact, as a Pan-Africanist, very few things give me greater joy than Africans openly celebrating our cultures, languages, names, traditions, and ways of seeing the world. African writers should never feel the need to dilute the Africanness of their work by removing culturally specific elements or turning their characters into ethnically neutral figures simply to make the work more accessible to Western audiences. Some of us have no interest in an African literature that achieves universality by first making itself less African. That would undermine the very essence of modern African literature.
With that necessary nuance established, my discomfort can be more clearly articulated. My pushback against Okonkwo’s “over-Igboization” raises a broader question about the difference between writing from a culture and creating a fictional world that feels almost entirely enclosed within that culture. The Igbo identity of the stories was not simply their foundation; after a while, it began to feel like the boundary of the entire world of the collection, with almost no one from outside that boundary allowed to enter. Story after story, name after name, family after family, the cumulative effect became noticeable enough that I found myself thinking about it even when I would have preferred to focus on the plot.
And again, I am not suggesting that Okonkwo should have included a checklist of ethnic representation in each story. That would be absurd. But there is still a legitimate question about how broad or narrow the social imagination of a collection becomes when virtually every character appears to come from the same ethnic world.
Nigeria is one of the most culturally and ethnically complex countries in Africa. Its people interact with, work alongside, marry, and live among individuals from various backgrounds every day. Of course, a book does not become inauthentic simply because it focuses on one community, nor does an author owe readers a comprehensive demographic portrait of her country. Still, after several stories in which almost every character seemed to be Igbo, I began to feel that Nigeria itself was strangely absent from a collection that was nonetheless situated within the Nigerian experience. The country surrounding the characters felt far more diverse in reality than the one depicted within the stories.
Perhaps I am particularly sensitive to this because of my Pan-African convictions, especially the ever-present idea of a “United States of Africa.” But does that mean our ethnic identities are destined to become meaningless? Certainly not. They deserve to be acknowledged, preserved, and celebrated. However, they cannot become the outermost boundary of our imagination. Our cultural differences do not, by themselves, define the entirety of our collective destiny. That is the delicate balance we must navigate. We must be able to cherish what is uniquely ours without losing the ability to imagine a shared future with those who are different from us. Pan-Africanism does not require Africans to abandon their identities as Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa, Gurene, Ewe, Akan, Zulu, Kikuyu, or anything else. An Africa stripped of these distinctions would be culturally impoverished. But Pan-Africanism also becomes hollow if each cultural group becomes so insular that others disappear from its moral and imaginative landscape.
As I continued reading, I found myself wondering how a Yoruba or Hausa Nigerian might experience this collection. Would they see it as an opportunity to better understand an Igbo social world, or would they feel that the Nigeria they know had been reduced to a country populated almost entirely by one ethnic group? Would they describe the book as Nigerian literature, or more specifically as Igbo literature situated within Nigeria? There is no shame in the latter. Igbo literature does not need to justify its existence or prove its national representativeness. My point is simply that the saturation became so complete that I became aware not only of who was present, but also of who was absent.
I also recognize that this may be an unfair expectation to place on a collection of short stories. Okonkwo may not have intended to present a comprehensive portrait of Nigeria. She may simply have written what she knows best, which is entirely valid. And perhaps another reader, especially an Igbo reader, would find in that focus a richness and familiarity that I, as a Ghanaian, could not fully experience. I am not presenting my discomfort as an objective literary judgment. It was simply part of my reading experience, and it would be dishonest to omit it.
All in all, this collection undeniably had promise, and I can easily imagine readers who love short stories enjoying it far more than I did. Uche Okonkwo can write. The first story established that beyond doubt. It was powerful, engaging, emotionally effective, and remarkably well constructed. Its pacing and narrative strength could rival those of many standalone novels, and its ending lingered with me long after I finished it. Had the rest of the collection maintained that level of quality, this review would have been very different.
But they did not, or more accurately, they did not sustain my interest. The first story carried me much further into the collection than I would have otherwise gone, but eventually even that could not keep me reading. And so I leave Okonkwo’s book with almost the same feeling I had nearly a decade ago with Chimamanda’s collection: reluctant frustration, loud disappointment, and the growing suspicion that the issue may not entirely lie with these authors.
Perhaps short stories and I are simply not meant for each other. At this point, a breakup might be necessary. And, as with any healthy breakup, separation is key. So any future reconciliation between us, I can confidently say, is probably not in the cards.
Notwithstanding that, it must be said that a critical nuance between Okonkwo and Chimamanda should be appreciated. With Chimamanda’s collection, I honestly did not find most of the stories particularly interesting, nor did I always appreciate the message she was attempting to convey through them. Now, with the benefit of hindsight and a more honest understanding of my own reading habits, perhaps it was a misdiagnosis on my part. Back then, I assumed, wrongly as it now seems, that Chimamanda was simply writing dry or boring short stories, rather than recognizing that it might have been the nature of the genre itself that frustrated me. I say all that because, with Okonkwo’s collection, that particular grievance was almost immediately neutralized. The first short story in "In a Kind of Madness" was nothing short of impressive. I do not use that word lightly. I was genuinely hooked, and the ending carried unexpected emotional power and earned gravitas. Yes, it was impressive. But clearly, some of us cannot have nice things. Just as I began to believe I had finally satisfied my curiosity, not just about enjoying short stories, but understanding why and how others do, the next three stories, almost mockingly, became increasingly torturous to read and difficult to appreciate in terms of their purpose. It was a begrudging setback to accept, but by the third story, I had frankly lost all desire and investment in the book.
Nevertheless, such was the spellbinding effect of the first story, and yes, this is why I keep calling it impressive, that, like a gambler on his last dollar, still buoyed by the memory of his first big win, I kept going. Despite the mounting evidence that I was no longer enjoying the book, I continued reading, driven by the hope that another story of equal force and gravitas lay ahead, as well as a sense of personal accountability not to give up too quickly. I read until I was approximately 75 percent through the book before finally asking myself what exactly I was trying to prove by continuing. At that point, it became clear that I was no longer enjoying the experience. So it may very well be that the page on which I stopped reading Uche Okonkwo’s collection will be the last page of any short story collection I voluntarily pick up. And, honestly, it is somewhat comforting to admit that I may simply not be a short story kind of reader. This realization feels less like frustration with a limited sample size and more like an honest acknowledgment that the very mechanics of short stories make the enjoyment curve steeper than necessary for me.
I say this not as a slight against the genre. It is not a failure of short stories; it may simply be a limitation of my temperament as a reader. There are, of course, those who admire the precision of the form, the ability to construct an entire emotional universe within twenty or thirty pages, and I can appreciate that intellectually. I can even enjoy it when it is done exceptionally well, as it was in the opening story of this collection. But I must stop approaching every new short story collection as though this time the outcome will somehow be different.
Nevertheless, apart from my own idiosyncratic and increasingly apparent resistance toward short stories, there were aspects of "In a Kind of Madness" that did not help facilitate my enjoyment of it. The most conspicuous was what I can only describe, while admitting that I may be inventing a word, as the over-Igboization of the book. Every one of the five or six stories I read before DNF-ing appeared to consist almost entirely of Igbo characters. And I do not simply mean that the central characters were Igbo while the supporting or peripheral characters came from other ethnic and cultural groups one would naturally encounter in a country as diverse as Nigeria. No. Nearly every name, every family, every friendship, every marriage, and almost every social environment seemed to exist entirely within the same Igbo cultural universe.
Now, before anyone misreads my intent, there is absolutely nothing wrong with an Igbo writer writing about Igbo people. Needless to say, Uche Okonkwo is entitled to write from within the culture she knows, understands, and loves. In fact, as a Pan-Africanist, very few things give me greater joy than Africans openly celebrating our cultures, languages, names, traditions, and ways of seeing the world. African writers should never feel the need to dilute the Africanness of their work by removing culturally specific elements or turning their characters into ethnically neutral figures simply to make the work more accessible to Western audiences. Some of us have no interest in an African literature that achieves universality by first making itself less African. That would undermine the very essence of modern African literature.
With that necessary nuance established, my discomfort can be more clearly articulated. My pushback against Okonkwo’s “over-Igboization” raises a broader question about the difference between writing from a culture and creating a fictional world that feels almost entirely enclosed within that culture. The Igbo identity of the stories was not simply their foundation; after a while, it began to feel like the boundary of the entire world of the collection, with almost no one from outside that boundary allowed to enter. Story after story, name after name, family after family, the cumulative effect became noticeable enough that I found myself thinking about it even when I would have preferred to focus on the plot.
And again, I am not suggesting that Okonkwo should have included a checklist of ethnic representation in each story. That would be absurd. But there is still a legitimate question about how broad or narrow the social imagination of a collection becomes when virtually every character appears to come from the same ethnic world.
Nigeria is one of the most culturally and ethnically complex countries in Africa. Its people interact with, work alongside, marry, and live among individuals from various backgrounds every day. Of course, a book does not become inauthentic simply because it focuses on one community, nor does an author owe readers a comprehensive demographic portrait of her country. Still, after several stories in which almost every character seemed to be Igbo, I began to feel that Nigeria itself was strangely absent from a collection that was nonetheless situated within the Nigerian experience. The country surrounding the characters felt far more diverse in reality than the one depicted within the stories.
Perhaps I am particularly sensitive to this because of my Pan-African convictions, especially the ever-present idea of a “United States of Africa.” But does that mean our ethnic identities are destined to become meaningless? Certainly not. They deserve to be acknowledged, preserved, and celebrated. However, they cannot become the outermost boundary of our imagination. Our cultural differences do not, by themselves, define the entirety of our collective destiny. That is the delicate balance we must navigate. We must be able to cherish what is uniquely ours without losing the ability to imagine a shared future with those who are different from us. Pan-Africanism does not require Africans to abandon their identities as Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa, Gurene, Ewe, Akan, Zulu, Kikuyu, or anything else. An Africa stripped of these distinctions would be culturally impoverished. But Pan-Africanism also becomes hollow if each cultural group becomes so insular that others disappear from its moral and imaginative landscape.
As I continued reading, I found myself wondering how a Yoruba or Hausa Nigerian might experience this collection. Would they see it as an opportunity to better understand an Igbo social world, or would they feel that the Nigeria they know had been reduced to a country populated almost entirely by one ethnic group? Would they describe the book as Nigerian literature, or more specifically as Igbo literature situated within Nigeria? There is no shame in the latter. Igbo literature does not need to justify its existence or prove its national representativeness. My point is simply that the saturation became so complete that I became aware not only of who was present, but also of who was absent.
I also recognize that this may be an unfair expectation to place on a collection of short stories. Okonkwo may not have intended to present a comprehensive portrait of Nigeria. She may simply have written what she knows best, which is entirely valid. And perhaps another reader, especially an Igbo reader, would find in that focus a richness and familiarity that I, as a Ghanaian, could not fully experience. I am not presenting my discomfort as an objective literary judgment. It was simply part of my reading experience, and it would be dishonest to omit it.
All in all, this collection undeniably had promise, and I can easily imagine readers who love short stories enjoying it far more than I did. Uche Okonkwo can write. The first story established that beyond doubt. It was powerful, engaging, emotionally effective, and remarkably well constructed. Its pacing and narrative strength could rival those of many standalone novels, and its ending lingered with me long after I finished it. Had the rest of the collection maintained that level of quality, this review would have been very different.
But they did not, or more accurately, they did not sustain my interest. The first story carried me much further into the collection than I would have otherwise gone, but eventually even that could not keep me reading. And so I leave Okonkwo’s book with almost the same feeling I had nearly a decade ago with Chimamanda’s collection: reluctant frustration, loud disappointment, and the growing suspicion that the issue may not entirely lie with these authors.
Perhaps short stories and I are simply not meant for each other. At this point, a breakup might be necessary. And, as with any healthy breakup, separation is key. So any future reconciliation between us, I can confidently say, is probably not in the cards.
January 12, 2025
A Kind of Madness is a haunting collection of stories which explore a multitude of expressions of madness existing within contemporary Nigerian society.
Okonkwo takes madness in its most literal sense in stories like ‘The Girl Who Lied’ and ‘Burning’, where we uncover characters grappling with their mental health in a culture where it is often discredited. She contrasts this depiction of madness with a more nuanced understanding, as seen in ‘Eden’, where madness manifests as the leviathan nature of sexual-awakening and shame, which are almost unseemly within the confines of the family unit.
Within a matter of paragraphs, Okonkwo delicately forges characters of depth and complexity, as we see in ‘Debri’. The shortest story of the collection, but left possibly the largest impact on me as a reader. Our protagonist, D’Boy, is raised by the streets, robbed of his childhood D’Boy exists the grey spaces of society - void of childlike innocence yet not quite an adult. He has fallen through the cracks of Nigerian society, disillusioned by the system, and a victim of the socioeconomic hardships millions of Nigerians face today, D’Boy reclaims his agency in a single moment of madness...
A Kind of Madness has earned Okonkwo a seat at the table, having demonstrated her mastery of evocative prose. This is a strong debut from Okonkwo and I am eager to see how her talent continues to evolve.
Okonkwo takes madness in its most literal sense in stories like ‘The Girl Who Lied’ and ‘Burning’, where we uncover characters grappling with their mental health in a culture where it is often discredited. She contrasts this depiction of madness with a more nuanced understanding, as seen in ‘Eden’, where madness manifests as the leviathan nature of sexual-awakening and shame, which are almost unseemly within the confines of the family unit.
Within a matter of paragraphs, Okonkwo delicately forges characters of depth and complexity, as we see in ‘Debri’. The shortest story of the collection, but left possibly the largest impact on me as a reader. Our protagonist, D’Boy, is raised by the streets, robbed of his childhood D’Boy exists the grey spaces of society - void of childlike innocence yet not quite an adult. He has fallen through the cracks of Nigerian society, disillusioned by the system, and a victim of the socioeconomic hardships millions of Nigerians face today, D’Boy reclaims his agency in a single moment of madness...
A Kind of Madness has earned Okonkwo a seat at the table, having demonstrated her mastery of evocative prose. This is a strong debut from Okonkwo and I am eager to see how her talent continues to evolve.
January 20, 2026
Someone said “if you want to explain Nigeria to anyone, give them this book”. I totally agree!
Heck the chaos in this book was alarming, but at the same time it is not out of touch with the chaos that comes with being a Nigerian
I loved some stories more than others ofcourse, but overall it was a beautiful read.
Heck the chaos in this book was alarming, but at the same time it is not out of touch with the chaos that comes with being a Nigerian
I loved some stories more than others ofcourse, but overall it was a beautiful read.
January 30, 2024
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for allowing me to read an advanced copy of this novel in exchange for my honest review! Short story collections are always some of my favorite things to read, especially when the stories are somewhat unsettling. This short story collection was honestly even more than what I had hoped for. Almost all the stories were heart-wrenching, especially the ones that examined the bonds between mothers and daughters. All of the details in this book very so vivid, I honestly couldn't put this book down until I was finished with the whole thing. I applaud the author on her first published work and hope to see many more short story collections from her in the future!
November 15, 2025
I think religious psychosis was truly a heavy theme in this book from what I gathered. The madness in the first story was subtle, lowkey funny as fuck that the idea of epilepsy can you make an unsuitable candidate bc what if you don’t have epilepsy but somehow your future child does or like somehow you develop it yourself??? And the concept of oneeeee great aunt in the family supposedly going crazy locking you out of marriage is insaneeeee, everybody in these stories generally nosy as fuck, but especially the people in the first story lmao, lowkey I feel like another theme is like putting a lot of energy towards a person and affecting their life, I feel like in shadow bro absolutely subconsciously killed his aunt’s baby. I totally get his logic of like being the cure for her problems but likeee theoretically he could just end up reminding her of everything her baby COULD’VE been and doesn’t have the chance to be. Jennifer was NOT beating the demon allegations cause why the fuck are you so strong???? N I like how this story shows like the one time being light skinned actually wouldn’t go well for somebody lmaoo but again shows how someone putting their energy towards another character affects that character’s life. Ngl the idea of looking up “why won’t my fuck me” is hilarious fr, her husband was a lil bitch fr, literally talked himself out of pussy something INSANEEE, not my girl liked the thicc cop tho, I get that he represented power n authority that her husband didn’t have tho. Lowkey for half a second I thought the sickle cell bitch got hit by a car when they mentioned them playing in the road and the fuckin car suddenly appearing, sis ate UP mocking her friend tho fr, another idea of putting energy into shit though, fully mimicking her friend simply cause she thought they were mimicking her - insecurity to the max. Everybody leaving bros church funny as fuck fr n I feel like if you already knew everybody was broke why the fuck was you tryna make a church anywayyy, you were literally just tryna keep up with the church joneses nigga. Bro I’m still gagged about the idea of having a cassette called pussy palace and being gagged your kids wanted to watch it bruh, I absolutely was hoping they’d be able to get the cassette out in time tho, but like we really should’ve been on the dads necks about it cause be so fucking fr bro idk personally if I would’ve had the balls to let them know I also watched the tapes but all power to sis fr, cami was DEFINITELY men toe lee eel like wtf was her problem fr, she was a lil lying attention whore, she diddd absolutely eat up lying to the preacher dude tho lmaoo, I do totally understand the narrators perspective especially given they were a kid but likeee it infuriated me so bad cause lowkey I would’ve also tried to be friends with cami and helped her but likeee that bitch is crazy and unfortunately like even if the narrator would’ve been older she probably would’ve fell into the same trap. The final story I think very much depicts religious psychosis and how it mixes with mental illness, them people were fully robbing her mom fuckin blind fr, I feel like maybe considering the kids dad died that like maybe she was trying to release the tie to her father in some way through the daughter or felt like maybe the dad was the daughter idk, it was a wild rollercoaster and it just sucks the narrator wanted to get out and had someone who wanted to help her but it just didn’t work out fr, 10/10 book fr banger stories
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 22, 2025
A collection of short stories all set in Nigeria, describing mundane everyday occurences in the lives of common people. Each story, in some ways, presents a somewhat moral dilemma, and concludes with the characters realising that there is more to it than meets the eye - whether the dilemma they saw was misrepresented to them, or they could have solved in a way they failed to consider. There is a moralistic tone, therefore, to many of the stories. All told, the stories make up a nice tapestry of what life in Nigeria for average folk feels like, and how they deal with the tensions between tradition and modernity, progress and conservativism, and future vs past.
It really is a lovely experience. The stories are perhaps not super emotive and deep, and fail to reach the emotional and intellectual complexity of Arinze Ifeakandu, but they are still very effective, and among the top quartile of all short stories I ever read. They are well written, the quotidien events are thought provoking despite their banality, and the characters are vivid and well rounded.
Overall, highly recommended to any short story lover, and to those who want to see more aspects of daily life in contemporary Nigeria.
My thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with an early copy of this book in return for an honest review.
It really is a lovely experience. The stories are perhaps not super emotive and deep, and fail to reach the emotional and intellectual complexity of Arinze Ifeakandu, but they are still very effective, and among the top quartile of all short stories I ever read. They are well written, the quotidien events are thought provoking despite their banality, and the characters are vivid and well rounded.
Overall, highly recommended to any short story lover, and to those who want to see more aspects of daily life in contemporary Nigeria.
My thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with an early copy of this book in return for an honest review.
December 13, 2025
Was this what happened when you weren't taught to believe in anything?
These 10 tales have a built-in exoticness from being set in different parts of Nigeria, where running water, flushing toilets, and reliable electricity aren't always givens. All 10 touch on some version of "madness"--most literally in the final entry, "Burning," in which 10-year-old Adanna's mom is, at best, manic-depressive and, at worst, just batshit crazy. Sometimes the madness at hand is as subtle as jealousy ("Long Hair") or pride and ego ("The Harvest") or even just married life ("Animals," featuring the kind of lunacy that sends the beleaguered husband to Google, asking Why won't wife have sex with me?). It's hard to choose a favorite from this collection (which says a lot about how good it is), but if pushed, I'd go with either "Eden" or "The Girl Who Lied." In the former, 10-year-old Madu and his younger sister find and watch their dad's video porn stash and get beat for it, pretty much ensuring a lifetime a sexual hangups to come. In the latter, the friendship and tension between 11-year-olds Tola (timid, from meager means) and Kemi (reckless, histrionic, from a wealthy but neglectful family) at boarding school is memorable. Considering her friend's mad mix of narcissism and insecurity, Tola thinks at one point, "Kemi didn't just want their attention, she seemed to need it, like it was the only thing keeping her from falling into a dark hole" (which, as it happens, is pretty good foreshadowing). The writing in all of these is consistently rich and atmospheric; here's just a taste:
He had grown accustomed to wading through the pulsating mass that was Obalende, with its countless yellow danfos and molues, conductors wooing passengers to faraway destinations across Lagos, men at the newspaper vendor's stand arguing about headlines they had no power to influence, traders luring passersby with wares from electronics to medicines to fake designer clothes imported from Aba.
Most of these stories do not end with neat resolutions, but with one exception ("Debris") they still somehow feel complete.
First line:
"Udoka was disappointed to find that her prospective in-laws' house wasn't two stories tall, with a uniformed guard and a big gate to keep out prying eyes." (from "Nwunye Belgium")
January 24, 2026
“A Kind of Madness” is a well suited title for the 10 stories exploring individuals, their families, their friends and the inner workings or how they live and interact with one another, the book is based throughout different cities and villages in Nigeria with some influence of those who live abroad. Through the well skilled writing of the author “madness” is explored, not in the more conventional way that Nigerians typically think of madness, but in a way that is intertwined into everyone’s daily life. There is a relatability to the “madness” each character experiences in the sense that things and feelings that should be normal and passing, yet each character experiences these everyday feeling in their extremity which leads them to present a form of madness.
The writer utilises great use of changing perspective/ perception throughout each chapter. I like the way perceptive parallels are used throughout the book, whilst a story is being narrated through one character’s eyes, the explanation and details given also allows the reader to see things from the other characters perspective, this style of writing gives realism and relatability to the reader, by painting a picture of the other side to a story that we may necessarily not think of in our daily lives.
Typically when reading books that is formed of different short stories there tends to be an annoying climax or abrupt ending, I feel that in this book the writer perfectly ends each chapter and leaves you thinking of the theme “wow this really is a kind of madness”
Although I did thoroughly enjoy most stories within this book, I did not really relate to Debris. I think that the stories Long hair, milk and oil and the girl who lied could be developed into a book together following the different characters in each story as they attend boarding school. I also believe Shadow, Animal, the girl who lied and burning could also be developed into a book based on school age children how their home lives affect the school and their friendships. There is many possibilities for further character development and subsequent books that expand each character’s story.
I enjoy reading books complied of short stories between novels as it helps reading block and keeps me attentive.
I would definitely read this book again and recommend.
The writer utilises great use of changing perspective/ perception throughout each chapter. I like the way perceptive parallels are used throughout the book, whilst a story is being narrated through one character’s eyes, the explanation and details given also allows the reader to see things from the other characters perspective, this style of writing gives realism and relatability to the reader, by painting a picture of the other side to a story that we may necessarily not think of in our daily lives.
Typically when reading books that is formed of different short stories there tends to be an annoying climax or abrupt ending, I feel that in this book the writer perfectly ends each chapter and leaves you thinking of the theme “wow this really is a kind of madness”
Although I did thoroughly enjoy most stories within this book, I did not really relate to Debris. I think that the stories Long hair, milk and oil and the girl who lied could be developed into a book together following the different characters in each story as they attend boarding school. I also believe Shadow, Animal, the girl who lied and burning could also be developed into a book based on school age children how their home lives affect the school and their friendships. There is many possibilities for further character development and subsequent books that expand each character’s story.
I enjoy reading books complied of short stories between novels as it helps reading block and keeps me attentive.
I would definitely read this book again and recommend.
January 31, 2025
“He thought about reaching across to take her hand. He knew what it would feel like now; rough and callused from carrying them both, unlike when they were newlyweds, the light of his dreams still burning bright”.
TW: miscarriage, depression
A Kind of Madness reads similarly to a short collection of childhood fables, but with a modern approach delivered through a distinctly Nigerian lens. The stories are succinct, heavy-hitting in nature as they tackle very real everyday challenges and societal expectations, yet highly engaging.
Each theme feels specially selected for the collection, each distinct but linked through the emotive undertones and consistent challenges faced by the protagonists. Despite the overarching awareness of the harshness of reality, Okonkwo singularly presents a beautiful combination of humour, struggle and the strength of human perseverance.
“[He] wondered why it was so much easier to talk to an unseen G-d than to the person beside him, made of flesh and blood, like him. But people were capricious, and prayer was a shield”.
I greatly enjoyed the use of childhood innocence and joy driving many of the tales, especially when contrasted against adults who have become (justifiably) jaded to the world and victims of circumstance. But mostly, as an adult reader, I enjoyed the reflection on the subtly delivered morals at the end of each story, and how unlike Hans Christian Andersen, these were not called out to lecture the reader but baked in organically to lead the reader to the conclusions they must draw themselves.
I’m always a fan of a Verve book, and this gem lived up to the hype. Thank you Verve for inviting me onto the book tour!
TW: miscarriage, depression
A Kind of Madness reads similarly to a short collection of childhood fables, but with a modern approach delivered through a distinctly Nigerian lens. The stories are succinct, heavy-hitting in nature as they tackle very real everyday challenges and societal expectations, yet highly engaging.
Each theme feels specially selected for the collection, each distinct but linked through the emotive undertones and consistent challenges faced by the protagonists. Despite the overarching awareness of the harshness of reality, Okonkwo singularly presents a beautiful combination of humour, struggle and the strength of human perseverance.
“[He] wondered why it was so much easier to talk to an unseen G-d than to the person beside him, made of flesh and blood, like him. But people were capricious, and prayer was a shield”.
I greatly enjoyed the use of childhood innocence and joy driving many of the tales, especially when contrasted against adults who have become (justifiably) jaded to the world and victims of circumstance. But mostly, as an adult reader, I enjoyed the reflection on the subtly delivered morals at the end of each story, and how unlike Hans Christian Andersen, these were not called out to lecture the reader but baked in organically to lead the reader to the conclusions they must draw themselves.
I’m always a fan of a Verve book, and this gem lived up to the hype. Thank you Verve for inviting me onto the book tour!
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