Praise Song For The Butterflies

by Bernice L. McFadden

Longlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction 2019, a powerful, well-researched, fictional account exploring the trokosi tradition for the curious and the open-minded.

Abeo Kata lives a comfortable, happy life in West Africa as the privileged nine-year-old daughter of a government employee and stay-at-home mother. But when the Katas' idyllic lifestyle takes a turn for the worse, Abeo's father, following his mother's advice, places the girl in a religious shrine, hoping that the sacrifice of his daughter will serve as atonement for the crimes of his ancestors. Unspeakable acts befall Abeo for the fifteen years she is enslaved within the shrine. When she is finally rescued, broken and battered, she must struggle to overcome her past, endure the revelation of family secrets, and learn to trust and love again. In the tradition of Chris Cleave's Little Bee, Praise Song for the Butterflies is a contemporary story that offers an educational, eye-opening account of the practice of ritual servitude in West Africa. Spanning decades and two continents, Praise Song for the Butterflies is an unflinching tale of the devastation that children are subject to when adults are ruled by fear and someone must pay the consequences.

"Abeo is unrelenting - a fiery protagonist who sparks in every scene. Bernice L. McFadden has created yet another compelling story, this time about hope and freedom." Nicole Dennis-Benn, author of Here Comes the Sun

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Africa, Literary Fiction, Historical, African American, Contemporary

232 pages, Kindle Edition

First published August 28, 2018

About the author

BERNICE L. McFADDEN is the author of ten critically acclaimed novels including Praise Song for the Butterflies (Long listed for the 2019 Women's Prize in Fiction ) The Book of Harlan (winner of a 2017 American Book Award and the NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Literary Work, Fiction) Sugar, Loving Donovan, Nowhere Is a Place, The Warmest December, Gathering of Waters (a New York Times Editors’ Choice and one of the 100 Notable Books of 2012) and Glorious . She is a four-time Hurston/Wright Legacy Award finalist, as well as the recipient of four awards from the Black Caucus of the American Library Association (BCALA).
McFadden has also penned five novels under the pseudonym: Geneva Holliday
She is a visiting assistant professor of creative writing at Tulane University in New Orleans. She is at work on her sixteenth novel.

Reviews

[Angela M · Rating 5 out of 5]

“It was 1985; Abeo was nine years, seven months, and three days old.”

“It was 1987 and Abeo was eleven years, six months and twenty-two days old.”

“It was 1998 and Abeo was twenty-two years, eight months, and seventeen days old.

“It is 2009, and Abeo is thirty-three years, seven months, and twenty-four days old”

Seemingly simple statements of fact - the year and exact age of Abeo, the main character in this novel at various times in her life, yet these were some of the most powerful sentences in the book for me as Bernice McFadden gives the reader a moment to absorb what is happening to Abeo, what has happened to Abeo and to imagine what may happen to her, so heartbreaking- she was a little girl. In the beginning we are introduced to a fictional African country, Ukemby, but it could be real, a real country by another name where the tradition of trokosi is practiced. (See the links below and be forewarned that the videos of girls that are former “trokosi” will break your heart. But they will also let you know how realistic Abeo’s story is.)

Shrine slavery, a tradition which still exists in some African countries was something I had never heard of before reading this book. Through Abeo’s story, we are exposed to the horrific life of abuse that these young girls endure as sex slaves to priests at the shrines. They are sent there in hopes of changing a family’s bad luck or as atonement for what a family member may have done. McFadden seamlessly moves us through the years and months and days of Abeo’s life from a comfortable life in an an affluent family to the depths of despair and abuse at the shrine, to the depth of grief so deep that I had to put this down at times before I could continue. But then to the possibility of perhaps not healing but of hope. It’s a short book and I don’t see the need to tell much more of the plot, but will say that McFadden’s telling is impeccable, giving us an education, giving us a character that cannot be forgotten. Highly recommended !


https://amp.pulse.ng/news/local/how-g...

https://www.ghanaweb.com/GhanaHomePag...


I received an advanced copy of this book from Akashi Books through Edelweiss.

[Canadian Jen · Rating 4 out of 5]

A father has had a series of bad luck experiences.
Rich in traditions of satisfying gods to ensure luck turns around, a daughter is given up as sacrifice.
Once rescued, Abeo struggles with the decision that was made; of rebuilding relationships and finding her true self moving forward amid the horrible experiences she lived through for 15 years.
Not sure how a parent could ever make such a horrendous decision no matter how much things have gone awry. The practice of ritual servitude is one that takes your virgins to atone for sins of their families.
A truly barbaric ritual, but a great story. 4⭐️

[Diane S ☔ · Rating 4 out of 5]

West Africa, Abeo is a happy nine year old, living a priviledged life of two parents who love each other. Her father has a steady job working for the government and Abeo is soon graced with a baby brother. Her happy home life begins to crumble when her father is suspended from his job, while an investigation into theft is completed. After this trouble after trouble begins to haunt this family. His mother, still believing in the old Gods, convinces her son to take Abeo to a shrine, leaving her there as a trokosi, a ritualized slave to the priest. His hope is that the gods will once again look down on him with favor. There is nothing, however, holy about this shrine, nor the life of identured servitude.

After almost two decades of a life filled with every kind of abuse imaginable, something happens, one final horror, that causes Abeo to crumble. This event and its aftermath also the one thing that will lead her away, give her a chance at a new life, if she is brave enough to chance trusting again. I loved Abeo, she is a survivor, she is indomitable, and she is fierce. Not that it doesn't take time and courage it does. We can follow her journey, cheer her on, as she makes new discoveries, some about her own family. The tone is matter of fact, these things happened, and very little drama accompanies the writing. The prose is simple, but effective, not a word wasted.

Another book about a cultural practice that is hard to read. Though it has been outlawed by the government, my understanding is that this practice still goes on, so incredibly awful. A short paragraph St books end tells how the author came to write about this subject. She wrote an amazing protagonist to build her story around.

ARC from librarything and Akashic books.

[♑︎♑︎♑︎ ♑︎♑︎♑︎ · Rating 4 out of 5]

There is something completely unique about Bernice McFadden's writing style. There is not a spare word anywhere. People get sick and die in half a sentence. Years pass simply in the next paragraph when there comes a declarative sentence stating how much older a character has become since the paragraph preceding it. To tell the truth I absolutely love this way of storytelling--it gets to the point, and then to the next point, and it keeps on that way until I get to the end. The story isn't spare, though--it's rich in allusion and emotion. It just doesn't beat around the bush.

This particular novel introduced me to the trokosi tradition in West Africa, which I'm ashamed to say I had not heard of before. Bernice McFadden's novel centers on nine-year-old Abeo, who is taken by her adoptive father to a shrine and left there to serve as a slave to the resident priest. She is first raped at eleven. She suffers beatings and starvation. Somehow the horrors of her life are presented here with exactly the right combination of detail and distance, for me to feel taken care of as a reader. I was upset by this story, but I also felt Bernice McFadden pulled the curtains closed and gave me the chance to recover before the next bad thing happened. I was thankful for her care in doing that.

With all of Bernice McFadden's books I feel like an honored guest to whom she wants to tell the best story she can. I enjoyed the time I spent reading this story very much.

[Rachel · Rating 2 out of 5]

The ending rarely makes or breaks a book for me. Obviously I'd prefer my endings on the satisfying and hard-hitting side, but if a book is strong enough, I'm not usually going to fault it for a slightly lackluster conclusion. This is why I rarely write reviews with spoiler tags - I don't have any problem talking about a book in general terms of what worked for me and what didn't.

Praise Song for the Butterflies is the exception. Because for the most part, I really, really enjoyed this book. The characters were on the thin side and their motivations were at times difficult to discern, but that was my only note in what was otherwise proving to be a captivating story... maybe a bit simply told, but if anything, I thought McFadden's pared down prose style suited this story which could have easily veered into melodrama with overly flowery writing. And it certainly was every bit as horrifying as it's meant to be, but I couldn't bring myself to look away - granted, it's short, but I still read the whole thing in two sittings. So all things considered, it was going well.

And then it ended. The problem isn't just the abysmal final scene, but we'll get to that in a minute. The bigger problem is that what was shaping up to be a moving story of resilience very, very quickly devolved into a narrative about how a traumatized woman finds healing in a man; how having a pleasurable romantic and sexual relationship is the pinnacle of what humankind can achieve. And I get it, I understand that love is validating and even curative at times, I understand that it can be cathartic to read about characters who have suffered finding happiness, but what I don't understand is the drastic shift from harrowing survival story to soppy, sensationalist drivel. And what I also don't understand is how anyone could read this utterly vile ''romantic'' declaration and find it moving or poignant or comforting or any of the things it's supposed to be:

"But if that is the road God had you travel in order for our paths to cross, then we have no choice but to accept the purpose it has served and be grateful for it."

So let me get this straight: Abeo is raped from ages 11 to 21, she gives birth to a child, she watches the child drown, and is so traumatized that she becomes catatonic for months even after she's rescued... but wait, she finds a guy who doesn't see her as damaged goods and suddenly she's supposed to be grateful?! Again, I understand the intent here. But my god did this ever fail in execution.

And then we get to the final scene, the one that completely undoes the entire premise that ensnared the reader to begin with. Because in the prologue, Abeo kills the man who raped and tormented her; it's a bold, shocking scene, and even knowing that event was coming added a layer of suspense and intrigue to the entire reading experience. But then it turns out to be -- wait for it -- a dream. And -- wait for it -- because she was able to kill this man in her dream, she can finally be at peace. Fin. What an utter cop-out. This book could have been an exploration of the lasting impact of trauma, it could have given its heroine a compassionate ending without compromising its exposition, but because of the last few chapters, a solidly captivating and eye-opening novel became a trite and forgettable one. Failing to live up to potential lends itself to a particularly potent kind of disappointment.

[Hannah · Rating 2 out of 5]

Of all the books on the Women’s Prize longlist, this one I feared reading the most. And it pains me to say that I was absolutely correct in not looking forward to reading this. I struggled with this book and not in a “it was at least intellectually stimulating”-way. I found it clumsy and painful and the characters unbearable.

The book starts promising, with a fairly intriguing look into Abeo’s life in New York, and a superficial but assured introduction into the family and their dynamics. But as soon as Abeo’s grandmother moved in with them, the book lost me and I never recovered. I found her character irritating in her complete lack of redeeming qualities (she might as well have been an evil queen in a Grimm’s fairy tale for all the nuance) and the way she was allowed to be awful just drove me up the walls. I think part of my problem was the fast-moving narration that never really took the time to just stay with any given moment long enough for the characters to come to life for me. Simultaneously, McFadden gets hung up on weird little details that for me added nothing to the story and felt like padding. For example, she describes characters smoking in a way that made it seem like it was supposed to be meaningful but did nothing for me.

The language is without any frills, nothing offensive but also not interesting enough to save the book from its godawful characters and plot for me. I hated pretty much every single character and found them one-dimensional in their exagerated awfulness. Their behaviour did not strike me as true (or at least I optimistically hope people this awful are an exception rather than the norm) and I did never really understand anybody’s motivations enough for them to become compelling.

Now, I know that this is super outside my wheelhouse and a lot of my dislike might be simple genre preference but I really hated vast stretches of it. It is not quite abysmal enough to warrant a one star rating (a rating I really hardly ever give) but only by a hair’s breadth. I am very glad to have gotten this out of the way early in my longlist reading because honestly? It can only get better from here.

You can find this review and other thoughts on books on my blog.

[☮Karen · Rating 3 out of 5]

There is a sex slave system in Ghana called trokosi where virgin girls, some as young as 6, are taken as compensation to right a wrong of a family member. It was outlawed twenty years ago but still practiced. This book takes place in a fictional African country but it's obviously based on Ghana, so it might as well have taken place in Ghana. I was confused why the setting had to be fictionalized; that it would be more impactful if emphasized that real countries are doing these awful things to real little girls.

I finished this a few days ago and have been thinking about it since. This is a story that needs to be told. I am glad this book has done that. I just felt the writing lacked depth, which is very much not what most reviewers felt. Read it for the historical and cultural relevance and judge for yourself.

[Brown Girl Reading · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed reading this compelling story of Abeo. It's amazing how Bernice L McFadden managed to tell this story with so much detail and emotion in so few pages. I started reading in the middle of the afternoon and couldn't put the book down. Definitely recommend it, especially if you have never picked up a McFadden book before. My rating is more like a 4,5. Go to the link to watch my video review. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpW4_...

[Lucy · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5****

I read this in one sitting. Abeo’s story was gut wrenching and completely broke my heart- but I had to find out what happened to her. I was ensnared into Abeo’s story, a young woman who perseveres and whose fictional story mirrors so many other women’s stories in real life.

To learn of the Trokosi was eye opening and heart rendering, while making me also feel sick as to what these young girls and women had to go through. It has angered me so much and surprises me that this heinous practice was only outlawed in Ukemby in 1998, but no reinforcements of the law were brought into place- meaning many girls suffer the same horrifying lives still to this day.

This book focuses on the story of Abeo; a daughter of a man with money, however when his luck and life seem to be getting worse, his mother (Abeo’s grandmother) suggests that he send Abeo to be a trokosi to give “back to the gods” and bring the family joy. To be a trokosi is to be beaten, raped, tortured/punished and experience hard labour and unwanted pregnancies. Many of the girls in this book experience these experiences and rapes by the men who are the “heads” of the Trokosi huts. While this didn’t go into lots of detail of what happened you still got the idea of the awful experiences these girls and young women went through.

In this book it shows the horrors that adults inflict on children/teens in the name of religion/cultural practice. It also shows perseverance and searching and finding strength from within.

[Alice · Rating 4 out of 5]

Moving, engrossing and horrifying. Well worth the read.

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read this book due to its longlisting for the 2019 Women’s Prize.

It is published by Jacaranda Books, a London-based independent publishing house which aims “to represent the cultural and ethnic diversity and heritage that can be found in London, with a particular interest in works related to Africa, the Caribbean, and the experiences of those peoples in the Diaspora. We also seek provocative, inspirational writing that shines a light on issues affecting ethnic minorities, women, and young people, and tackles contemporary social issues”.

This book strongly fits their aims – with its spotlight on the issue of ritual servitude: for more information please see these documentaries, one of which is linked via the author’s Goodreads page.

https://www.goodreads.com/videos/1343...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Anwk...

The book’s opening sections act as a set up for the main story:

A definition: The word trokosi comes from the Ewe words tro, meaning deith or fetish and kosi, meaning female slave

A geographical introduction: to the small, fictional kingdom of Ukemby “Shaped like a kinked index finger, confined between Ghana and Togo”

An Afterscene in New York 2009: a 2003 immigrant from Ukemby Abeo (married with two children) recognises “with great horror” a man “Duma, she’d known him intimately as a man of the cloth knew his god – or more appropriately, the way a sinner knows the Evil One” and attacks him with a screwdriver.

The book then returns to Ukemby in 1978 when Abeo is two and to opening chapters which set out the life of her family, including her father Wasik, graduate of English university and now accountant in the Government treasury department, and her ex-model mother Ismae.

A family life, succinctly sketched, but one which seems full of love and privilege: “Wasik drove a silver Mercedes and had his eye on a piece of beach front property.. where he hoped he could build a second home” and one which contrasts to the way we are told the story ends.

Perhaps only one note spoils the apparently idyllic set-up – something whose revelations play out later in the book (in one case more immediately and obviously, the other case more over time):

Wasik’s parents had balked at a religion that only recognised one supreme being and ignored the spirits, ancestors and minor gods who tended to the sun, river, moon and animal and plant kingdoms – and so would not allow Wasik to discard his traditional religion for a white god with blond hair and blue eyes. Wasik had to wait until he was out from under his parent’s influence before he could convert. Ismae’s parents, however, bought in hook, line and crucifix.

Ismae has a younger sister Serafine who visits from America when Abeo is an impressionable five year old America bringing music, dance and “wantoness” and promises of a future vacation for Abeo in America. Later that year, to her and Wasik’s delight, Ismae falls pregnant with a son after (there is the implication) years of trying.

But birth is followed by death – of Wasik’s father, which brings Abeo’s grandmother, with her traditional life and beliefs, to their house, causing a lasting culture clash.

In a pivotal moment of the book, Serafine insists on a family visit to the Ghanese slave fort Elmina Castle, to explore the terrible heritage of slavery and the impact it has had on African Americans. Abeo meanwhile still dreams of visiting her Auntie in America, a cold McDonalds bought across the Atlantic only increasing her desire to visit the fabled land.

While this is happening though, things are starting to go wrong in their family life, with accident, illness, loss of job and reputation (in a corruption scandal in which Wasik is an innocent victim) and the grandmother increasingly insists that Wasik returns to the traditional gods and gives up Abeo as a trokosi to appease the gods and to bring the family’s bad luck to an end: something which to the horror of his wife, he agrees in a moment of despair, abandoning his daughter at a small shrine in the countryside at the age of “nine years, seven months and three days”.

The second part of the book follows the harrowing tale of Abeo’s life in the shrine as a “wife of the Gods” subject to a life of servitude, deprivation, forced labour and sexual abuse. Told by her fellow trokosi that her presence must either mean she has sinned, or her family is cursed with bad luck, and unware of Wasik’s misfortune which was hidden from her as a child, she decides she is being punished for a ring she stole from her Auntie.

McFadden is a superbly economical and succinct writer. Whole situations are captured in a few paragraphs and years can pass between sentences.

Just as the initially idyllic family set up is covered in a two and a half page chapter, the horrors of the shrine are clear but largely take place off page, without a surfeit of graphical description. For me this makes an interesting contrast to most of the prize-listed books I have read recently about the American/Caribbean slave trade. The author has commented in a Goodreads Q&A

“In my earlier works I was much more graphic with my descriptions of horrific events. I think pulling back from that had much to do with me seeing so much violence against Black people on the news and social media platforms. Subjecting my character, myself or the reader didn’t seem to serve anyone involved.”

Abeo’s tale is partly interleaved with the attempts of Serafine to find out what has happened to Abeo (and her failed attempts to rescue her) and with the introduction of Taylor, an American “only child of a black mother and a white army officer who abandoned the family just after she was born. That desertion formed Taylor’s negative opinion of white people and so she despised them and everything about them that she saw in herself”.

After many decades and a successful career, Taylor is made aware of the practice of ritual servitude, which she quickly realises is “slavery by another name” and forced to confront some uncomfortable truths:

“The revelation that her African brothers and sisters were practicing the same atrocities that white men had engaged in centuries earlier placed Taylor between a rock and a hard place. If she revived her hate and turned it on to the Africans, on the very roots of who she claimed to be, then wouldn’t she once again be hating one-half of herself”

Eventually Taylor moves from donating money to church groups helping trokosi escapees to a more direct and personal involvement in actively facilitating rescue; a practice which forces her into the uncomfortable position of effectively trading with the priests to buy the freedom of their most most useless trokosi, and which brings her into contact with an Abeo traumatised by loss.

The final part of the book set in Africa and then America concludes with Abeo’s rehabilitation: her coming to terms with those who have betrayed her; the realisation that the religious practices of both of her sets of grandparents (as set out in the quote above) played a crucial part in those betrayals and in her fate; her own attempts to move past hate and resentment, to eventually find both the ability to love and be loved and to be released of her tormentor:

That wasn’t to say Abeyo didn’t struggle with the hate. After Thema had shared the ugly truth with her, hate had become a constant companion. It was Taylor who had saved her from being swallowed by it. She said [quoting Ghandi] “Abeo, the weak can never forgive, forgiveness is an attribute of the strong ………. Are you weak, Abeo” …. At one time she thought she was weak, but Taylor told her that weak people didn’t survive all that Abeo had endured.

Overall I thought this was a fascinating book – a window onto a world of which I was unaware and one which neatly links historic to modern day slavery,

She had time to ponder her existence in the world, and realized with great awe that she was in fact living a parallel life. A descendant of generations of Ukembans sold into slavery and the, eons later, she, a born American of African descent, had returned to the continent only to suffer the same fate.

And importantly one which I felt forces all like Taylor to confront some uncomfortable truths about our own attitudes, as well as our own responsibilities.

Normally I might finish a review with some links to interviews, or suggestions for further reading, but instead I will link:

https://www.stopthetraffik.org/

[Maddie C. · Rating 3 out of 5]

LONGLISTED FOR THE WOMEN'S PRIZE FOR FICTION (2019)

A good premise that tackles an important and almost unknown topic, the ritual servitude in West Africa, but the execution of Praise Song for the Butterflies left much to be desired, in my opinion. Written in short chapters and divided into three key moments of the protagonists life, it is an easy and quick read but I thought it never really delved into an emotionally complex story, especially given the heavy subject matter. I felt like it barely strachted the surface of its potential and I was constantly waiting for more, but then again that could be in part because of McFadden's writing style: to me, it feels dettached so I wasn't a huge fan.

All in all, I feel this is a good 'book-club' book and can easily stir some conversation around important topics but, to me, as a literary achievement, it did not shine.

[Erin · Rating 5 out of 5]

I couldn't put it down. Literally. I made coffee while I read it this morning. I drank coffee while I read it. I soaked in my hot tub while I read it. The novel is brilliant. I felt the protagonist's abandonment. I felt the mother's guilt. I felt the power of religion and spirits. This book moved my soul. And that doesn't happen very often.

The novel was a fast read. McFadden's writing is concise. There are no wasted words. Yet she gets to the soul of the themes, of the characters very quickly. And the themes she tackles are not easy. She has a way of showing abandonment, guilt, and the power of superstition that reverberated in my chest like an echo chamber.

Abeo is five-years-old when her auntie Serafine comes from the US to visit her and her parents Ismae, Serafine’s sister, and Wasik in the fictional African nation of Ukemby. That is the year Ismae gives birth to a baby boy. Abeo and her family live in an affluent suburb in a beautiful house with indoor plumbing and a kitchen. When Wasik’s father dies and his mother comes to live with them, she shames him for having such a large home with just two children. But his riches dwindle when his salary is cut in half after he is suspended from work for being implicated in an embezzlement scandal.

After his suspension from work, bad luck seems to attach to the family. Ismae breaks her ankle; the Mercedes needs repair; the roof is leaking; and his wife attacks his mother.

Wasik didn’t know what evil had swooped down on his life or what devil had taken possession of his wife; what he did know is that he needed this bad luck and bad behavior to come to an end.

The grandmother reminds Wasik that Ismae’s grandfather brought shame and bad luck to the family after an accident where his van rolled over two baby goats.

[H]is offense was still alive and well and lurked among his descendants like a specter, awaiting retribution. That time, according to Grandmother, had finally arrived.

Abeo and her family are practicing Catholics. In a clash of African and white religion, the retribution takes the form of Abeo being sacrificed at a remote African village shrine as a trokosi, a slave.

McFadden shows how modern family members pick and choose among gods to justify their life choices and their effects. The result is a mesmerizing and credible story of how a nine-year-old girl ends up at a desolate African shrine as a sacrifice to the gods to improve a family’s luck.

McFadden is at her best when showing characters’ emotions, then evoking them in the reader. We learn how Taylor, a bi-racial woman who cannot accept her whiteness, turns her self-hatred outward. Taylor wears cornrows long after they have gone out of fashion. She chooses Howard University even though she was accepted at Yale. She is active in Black Power organizations. She won’t date white men. She donates to charities that help black girls. Eventually, she evolves and her transformation plays a key role in the story.

We feel Serafine’s guilt through McFadden’s descriptions of her and her actions.

She’d gained quite a bit of weight. One very bad divorce, a pack-a-day smoking habit, a liter of vodka a week, a job she hated, a current husband she despised—all of that had taken its toll. The woman who gazed back at her was the end result of what seemed to be a cursed life.

All of this was because “Serafine was not ready to confront her past—nor was she ready to be confronted by it.”

She began to overcompensate…buying…more than she needed or wanted—a blouse from Saks, shoes from Bergdorf, a coat from Barneys, scarves from Bloomingdale’s….

We recognize Taylor and Serafine and McFadden’s other characters because they are people we know, people who have been hurt—they are us.

If we judge books based not just on how an author handles the essential elements of fiction, but how she moves your soul as a human being, Praise Song has it all. The novel is shortlisted as a potential winner of The Million’s Women’s Prize for Fiction for 2019. It's my winner of the list.

[Jamise · Rating 5 out of 5]

Let me be completely honest, I went into this book completely blind. I had no idea what it was about. Once I discovered the subject matter, I went directly to google. I was completely unaware and this book forced me to educate myself on a topic that I was not familiar with, Trokosi. The setting is a fictional West African country and we meet Abeo Kata, a 9-year-old girl who is ripped from her privileged lifestyle when her father forces her to become a slave in a religious sect. ⁣⁣
⁣⁣
This was a haunting and heartbreaking read for me. The story stayed with me weeks after I finished the book.⁣⁣
But herein lies the beauty of Ms. McFadden’s writing. She makes me feel, think and believe. I feel the emotion exuding from her stories and characters. I believe in the authenticity of her characters and boy do I THINK! In typical fashion, she always leaves me wanting more....⁣⁣
- But what about?⁣⁣
- What happened to?⁣⁣
- How did?⁣⁣
- Ok, there has to be a sequel?
⁣⁣
Ms. McFadden never quite wraps up a story with a big red perfectly tied bow. She leaves the reader the power to think and explore within their own realm. Gosh I love her writing!⁣⁣ ⁣⁣
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again, if you haven’t read any of her books you’re missing out on something magical! ⁣⁣
⁣⁣
Just when I think her writing can’t get any better, it does!

[Claire · Rating 5 out of 5]

Interested in the inspiration for writing a novel, this one intrigued me; Bernice McFadden visited Ghana in 2007 and while she was there met two women who told her about a rehabilitation centre and a tradition referred to as trokosi, which they explained and suggested she write a book about, an idea she initially laughed at, but after researching the practice, a story began to emerge that she eventually pursued.

The novel is set in a fictional nation of Ukemby (avoiding comparison with the geography and customs of a specific African country), the first two pages provide a brief history of this fictional land, with its recent colonialist history, new schools, a period of outlawing African God worship or speaking local languages and their subsequent independence, freeing people to openly practice older customs and traditions.

Shrine slavery was one of the traditions that ascended from the darkness back into the light.

A slim 3 page chapter entitled AFTER New York City 2009, sets the reader on edge wondering what happened to lead to that collision of events, as the first provocative sentence opens with:

On the morning of the day she killed him, the sun sat high and white in a sky washed clean of clouds by an early-morning downpour.

From there we move into BEFORE, Port Masi, Ukemby 1978 – 1985. The novel gripped me from its opening pages and made me not want to do anything but stay with young Abeo as if to hasten her escape from the wretched situation superstition put her in.

We know from the blurb that she is going to be sacrificed by her father, under pressure from his mother, to atone for a curse believed to have been passed down from their ancestors. Until that moment, it seems impossible, given the early success and education of her parents, I read those initial pages, wondering what it could be that changed the good fortune of this happy family.

When Aunt Serafine comes to visit from New York, the family take a trip across the border to Ghana, and visit the slave castle. After debating whether or not it is appropriate to take young Abeo, her mother relents and she joins them. A sense of foreboding lurks as they descend into the dark interior of the castle, her imagination running rife.

What struck fear into her young heart was the history that lay beyond the wooden panels and brass hardware. Morris had revived history and little Abeo was finding it hard to distinguish between the now and what had been. Morris reached for the door handle and Abeo’s breath caught in her throat. She ordered her eyes to close, but they refused, and so she braced herself for the vision of the ship bobbing on the ocean, its deck teeming with shackled cargo.

It’s when things go wrong, when the family’s luck changes and the son comes under the undue influence of his mother (I recall this similarly in Ayobami Adebayo’s excellent Stay With Me ) that relationships get tested, families risk disintegrating and wives become disempowered.

When Abeo’s family falls on hard times, her father, in his desperation begins to doubt himself and the system that should bring justice. Instead he is lead to follow the old ways, thinking it will bring him peace of mind. In an impulsive moment, seized by and giving in to terror, he does the unthinkable, delivering his daughter to a religious shrine.

It was 1985; Abeo was nine years, seven months and three days old.

I worried the story was going to depict brutality, especially after recently reading House of Stone, where Novuyo Rosa Tshuma exposes the reader to the graphic horror of Gukurahundi, in newly independent Zimbabwe, however I was relieved to discover that McFadden spares us the terror if not the cruelty, we imagine what happened, though thankfully there’s no visceral portrayal. One reader asked why she chose to spare readers this, suggesting her method was more like leading a reader by the hand to the truth rather than holding them by the head to something too awful to take in.

In my earlier works I was much more graphic with my descriptions of horrific events. I think pulling back from that had much to do with me seeing so much violence against Black people on the news and social media platforms. Subjecting my character, myself or the reader didn’t seem to serve anyone involved.

Interested in the title, I looked up ‘Praise Song’ and learned it is one of the most widely used poetic forms in African literature; described as ‘a series of laudatory epithets applied to gods, men, animals, plants, and towns that capture the essence of the object being praised’.

It becomes a form of metaphor, the butterfly a symbol of transformation and rebirth; in the novel Duma, the oldest of the priest’s sons rips a newspaper to shreds, intending to ignore what has been read inside it, the pieces are picked up by a gust of wind, catching the girls’ eyes, seen as butterflies. Though an illusion, it signifies a turning point, a sign of hope, of liberation, they are experiencing life in one form and soon will transform.

Duma folded the newspaper and looked directly into his father’s milky eyes. “It means the government has outlawed what we do here. It means no more trokosi.

Abeo glanced up and for one fleeting moment her spirit soared. Indeed, at that distance, the bits of newspaper did appear to be a cluster of white butterflies. Abeo watched until the air went still and the false butterflies dropped out of sight.

It was 1998 and Abeo was twenty-two years old, eight months and seventeen days old.

The characters are well depicted, the surroundings set the reader’s imagination alight, we’re taken on a journey, introduced to a terrifying ritual that morphs into another form of traditional domination, however there are shining lights, hope has been gifted a role to play and Abeo has been permitted to interact with it.

I loved the natural, gifted storytelling of this novel, the historical exploration and psychological insight and in particular that she was able to create a scenario that showed us what a healing transformation might look like in the form of resilience.

This is a story of survival and triumph. I want people to understand that their circumstances don’t always, and shouldn’t always, define their entire lives.

[Jenny (Reading Envy) · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read this because it was longlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction in 2019. It is set in a fictional country between Ghana and Togo, but from what I understand the real equivalent for what happens in the story would be Ghana most accurately (I'm not sure why she set it somewhere fictional, as it makes the events feel less real, when she seems to want the reader to learn about these things that really do happen.)

Abeo is a young girl and enjoying her life but gets traded in penance/as payment as a trokosi, a female ritual servant/slave that serves a priest. It is a real practice that is officially outlawed but human rights organizations say it is still being practiced. It removes girls and women from their families and from any autonomy over their own lives.

This is heavy content, but it is told for the most part in a lighter tone. The novel starts in the present day in America before it goes back to Abeo's childhood. At some point a woman from a NGO showed up and I was worried this would turn into a white savior novel, but it comes back from that point (so do continue if that trips you up!)

There is something about the novel that feels unfinished to me, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

[Eric Anderson · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the things I enjoy most about following the Women’s Prize for Fiction each year is that it always brings to my attention a number of books I might not have come across otherwise and almost certainly wouldn’t have read. Bernice L. McFadden is an American writer who has published several well regarded novels and a number of romance novels under the name Geneva Holliday, but she hasn’t been widely reviewed in the UK and this is the first of her novels that I’ve read. “Praise Song for the Butterflies” is the story of Abeo Kata who is raised in the fictional West African location of Port Masi, Ukemby. She lives in a comfortable middle class home with her doting parents Wasik who works for the treasury department and Ismae who is a former model. Her conservative old grandmother comes to live with them and shortly after this her father Wasik is falsely accused of embezzling money from the government and allegations of political corruption. With the grandmother’s encouragement Wasik comes to believe he’s been cursed and the only way to alleviate this condition is to “sacrifice” his seven year old daughter by leaving her at a rural Temple where she’s subjected to the most brutal treatment and forced into slave labour under the guise of spiritual servitude. The novel follows Abeo’s harrowing journey from being cast aside to a point where she can determine her own future. It’s a captivating, skilfully written tale which touches upon a number of pertinent and meaningful issues.

Read my full review of Praise Song for the Butterflies by Bernice L. McFadden on LonesomeReader

[Tia · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was shocked to find I was at the end. This book took over me. To say I was engrossed isn't enough.

I will write a review later.

[Matthew · Rating 4 out of 5]

A powerful and well written story about a harrowing topic I knew nothing about. This book and this author deserve to be widely read.

[JimZ · Rating 3 out of 5]

The novel is about a little girl, Abeo Kata, who is uprooted from a nice suburban life in West Africa and essentially sold into slavery by her step-father. How this transpired in the novel seemed a bit contrived but I didn’t see that as a major flaw in the novel. The practice is “trokosi” which is described below – it is from Wikipedia and there is a great deal more information at that site for the interested reader (https://www.conservapedia.com/Trokosi ). The novel is about Abeo’s life before, during, and after trokosi. This book seemed like a YA-style book…it’s just the impression I got from reading it. The chapters were short, about 2-5 pages. It was a quick read.

“Trokosi (Ewe spelling troxovi, also called ritual servitude) is a form of sexual slavery involving mainly women and girls. It is based on cultural traditions of West Africa involving the requirement of a young virgin girl in consideration of the services of the priests in certain shrines of African Traditional Religion, particularly in areas of Ghana, Togo and Benin The word trokosi comes from the tribal Ewe language of Ghana and Togo, and means "wives of the gods". The girls are considered to be wives of the idol god who is venerated and served at the shrine. In practical terms they are concubines and slaves of the priests of those shrines. They must obey his command under pain of severe punishment if they refuse, they work his fields, produce items for sale by the shrine, and serve him sexually. In turn they receive no compensation, no affection, and no human interaction. The term "trokosi" refers both to the practice or institution and to the slaves themselves.”

I was trying to find out how prevalent the horrific practice is. It’s been officially outlawed in Ghana (since 1998) but apparently it is still going on today. I got this from a BBC website that was dated June 2018 (https://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa... ): Although the practice has officially been banned in Ghana, it's still happening there and in other parts of West Africa on a small scale.

Here are two reviews:
https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/a...
https://www.nyjournalofbooks.com/book...

[Monica **can't read fast enough** · Rating 5 out of 5]

I just finished the audio of Praise Song for the Butterflies by Bernice McFadden. I am emotionally exhausted. I listened to it all in one day & unlike Abeo I still hold the taste of bitterness from her trauma. Ms. McFadden, may I please have my heart back? Because you snatched it. As a woman and a mother of two daughters reading this was not pleasant but it was enhancing in the sense of being made to look at this type of cruelty full on.

I probably won't do a full review of this one because it wouldn't touch the amazing review written by Tina Ansa. Suffice it to say that this is one I would recommend reading. Just be prepared for the heartache.

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[Jerrie · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 ⭐️ Longlisted for the Women’s Prize for Fiction. This book provides what could have been a fascinating look at the archaic practice of ritual slavery in parts of Africa. It follows the story of a young girl, Abeo, whose father gives her to a local priest to atone for the family’s past sins. Unfortunately, I found the writing very superficial, and it seemed to gloss over what should have been major plot points.

[Buffy · Rating 5 out of 5]

So many emotions to process before I can come back and write a review! What I will say is Ms. McFadden has done it again! Brilliant!

Update:

Where do I begin. This is a brilliantly written novel by Bernice McFadden shook me to my core. Ritual servitude is something I knew little about until reading this novel. I had heard of the awful and horrendous practice years ago in my reading but I didn’t know the depths. Ms. McFadden does an amazing job of weaving together the affects of this atrocity on all involved directly and indirectly. Acts of desperation and a false sense of “doing what’s best for the greater good” in (selfish) “hopes” of making life better sends this family down a rabbit hole of pain and despair. I struggled trying to make sense out of these bad decisions, whether it was the initiator or those complicit in this crime..then I realized...it will never make sense.

So many book discussions come to mind, whether it is about the horrific practice of Trokosi (How can one believe that they can atone for their sins by taking a child and thrusting her into the unspeakable?) - to the genesis of slavery - to the current horrific crime of sex trafficking around the world - to family dynamics, deceit, love, and forgiveness.

I felt an instant connection to the characters..especially Abeo. I sensed her strength from the beginning. I found myself strongly disliking Wasik and pitying him at the same time. Major and minor characters were well developed and had depth. This is a consistent theme in the works of Ms. McFadden in my opinion.

[Joy D · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set in the fictional country of Ukemby (near Ghana, Togo, & Benin in western Africa), starting in the 1980s, this book tells the story of Abeo. As the story opens, she is living with her family and leading the happy-go-lucky life of a nine-year old child of a prosperous family. When her father, Wasik, falls foul of the regime, the family is set back emotionally and financially. Her father’s mother comes to live with them. Her grandmother is still steeped in the superstitions of the past and convinces Wasik to place Abeo in a shrine to appease the spirits (without telling his wife). While there, Abeo is subjected to a horrendous series of abuses, including hard labor, flogging, and rape.

This book calls attention to the religious practice of trokosi, which involves ritual enslavement. Despite being outlawed, it is still practiced. The chapters are short, so even though it contains brutality, it is not belabored. It is easy to develop strong protective feelings toward Abeo. The storyline follows her life as a shrine-slave as well as what happens to her relatives. There are several subplots woven into the main story. It was difficult to read about mistreatment of children and young women, but it also contains a story of survival and resilience in the face of trauma and tragedy.

[Callum McLaughlin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Rating this book has proven tricky, as there are elements of it that I loved, and elements that I found underwhelming and frustrating. The story follows Abeo, a young West African girl whose family falls on hard times in the 1980s. Her desperate father eventually sacrifices her to a religious shrine, where she endures physical, emotional, and sexual abuse; an ancient practice that was believed to atone for the sins of a family’s ancestors, thus breaking the chain of bad luck for future generations.

I thought the first half of the book was very strong. I quickly became invested in Abeo and her mother, and enjoyed McFadden’s unassuming prose, which is punctuated by moments of beauty. There’s a looming sense of threat as events begin to spiral beyond the characters’ control, and some very effective foreshadowing in a scene which sees the family visit a former prison for Africans who were to be sold into slavery. This introduced one of the book’s greatest thematic threads, in which McFadden draws parallels between events of the past, Abeo’s present, and our current day. It’s no mistake that the book was published now, after all. There are undeniable similarities to events that are playing out across the world today (we’ve all seen the plight of young refugees displaced by war, and the sickening images of migrant children seized by border authorities and placed in cages). The book serves as a powerful wake up call; an eye-opening look at the pattern of human error that echoes throughout time; the way in which we allow children to become collateral damage in the struggles, fears, and instabilities that arise with adult conflict. By educating ourselves about the past, we can better understand our present, and thus strive for better in the future.

Though the concept throws up a lot of potential for sensationalism, mercifully, I felt this was largely avoided. McFadden doesn’t shy away from the horrors that Abeo faces during her time in the shrine, but her somewhat distant, fast-moving narrative approach means we never become too bogged down by the harrowing details. What’s more, the book is always underpinned by a feeling of hope, with moments of kindness, and themes of sisterhood and recovery guiding us through the darkness.

The second half of the book focusses on the notion of facing up to the shame of our past, further enhancing the book’s thematic resonance. It moves very quickly, however. There are significant time jumps; important characters come and go without notice; and some of the book’s potential emotional development isn’t capitalised on. There is also a particular plot point that I felt was handled poorly; the one moment in which McFadden tipped into gratuitous suffering. It’s not the plot point itself that I took issue with. It felt inevitable, and made sense from a narrative perspective, but it could have been done in a way that was circumstantially in-keeping with the rest of the story, and no less tragic for it. Instead, it unfolded in a way that was entirely avoidable, making it feel needlessly cruel on the author’s part.

The book’s opening scene is bold, shocking, and instantly hooked me in. By contrast, I found the closing scene weak and clichéd. That, in essence, sums up my prevailing attitude towards the book as a whole. It starts strong, and has a lot of potential, but whilst its heart is in the right place, and it sets out to impart a commendable message, I found the execution left me wanting.

Overall, I’m glad this was longlisted for the Women’s Prize. I hadn’t heard of it before, and likely wouldn’t have picked it up otherwise, but I truly admire what McFadden was trying to say – even if the way she said it was a little clumsy at times.

[J Beckett · Rating 5 out of 5]

Praise Song for the Butterflies will leave you speechless, awestruck and eager to learn more about the inhumane practice called trokosi, about which I knew very little. McFadden invites the reader, as she often does, on a fantastic journey, punching at our heart and soul until we relent and simply let her take the wheel. And she drives us into the underbelly of a social dynamic that elevates her to a level both novel and assuring: McFadden can tell a story!!!!

Praise Song... is a mammoth tale enveloping the relatively unknown tradition, culture, and the practices of a world we'd find creepily disturbing. Abeo, a very young girl, the focus of the story, is secretly remove from her home by her "father" and taken to a shrine -- a trokosi practicing compound -- to pay for the sins or debts of.... to become a slave enduring physical and sexual abuse until she is provided a chance to reclaim a life, although shattered.

The urge to tell more about this profound story is brimming, but Praise Song for the Butterflies must be read and interpreted independently. Each line-- each word -- given its due.

Perhaps Praise Song is not as animated as McFadden's previous works, but it is daring and structurally complex; a departure from the McFadden norm, but an endeavor that takes her, in my opinion, to another level of authorship that surpasses talent. Another gift for this amazing sister's fans.

[Melissa Crytzer Fry · Rating 4 out of 5]

This slim book had been languishing on my physical shelves for years, and it wasn’t until this year – when it was on sale as an audio book – that I picked the original book up and tag-teamed it with audio. I should have read it sooner.

What a sad, eye-opening experience. I had no idea that ritual servitude was a practice in place up into the 2000s (and still?) in West Africa. I still am heartbroken by the reality of it – by the continued plight of women in the world, even today, who, in many cultures and so many scenarios, continue to be treated as less-than-human.

"Scars are proof of survival, they shouldn't be hidden - it's a story someone may need to see in order to believe that beyond their pain and suffering, there is healing."

Having this book narrated to me was even more rewarding than reading it, for me personally. The narrator’s voice – and the incredible range of voices she employed for various characters, the cadence, the inflection – was soothing and laden with emotion, which drew me even deeper into the story. (I have never been an audiobook gal, so this says a lot). And, to be honest, I’m not sure I’d have had the same reaction to the book having only read it, as it is written in a very unembellished, simple style (and is only 244 pages long). I generally prefer meatier writing styles, but, even so, this book was profoundly moving.

I recommend listening – or, like I did – doing a combination of both!

[Nicky · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a quick read but I found the writing very simplistic for the gravity of the subject. What should have been challenging and confrontational to read about, seems to mostly occur off the page being inferred to instead.

[Jonathan Pool · Rating 5 out of 5]

How nice it is, sometimes, to come to a book with little or no prior knowledge of the subject matter, or even of the author.
I really enjoyed Praise Song For The Butterflies which is longlisted for the 2019 Womens Prize for literature.
This is a great example of a writer’s skill in taking a real life practice, one that has existed for years, and continues to do so -“trokosi” or Ritual servitude - and then building an imagined, fictionalised, story around it.
Bernice McFadden has drawn on the considerable documentary, and verbal, evidence and accounts of trokosi hardship; the inhumanity, the cruelty, the sexual exploitation. Taking that lot and writing in a measured way without descending into righteous polemic against odious customs takes some doing. McFadden’s calm, simple writing style is mirrored in the character of her leading protagonist, Abeo Kata, as she finds a road to (mostly) recovery.

This is high quality storytelling whose only weakness, in my opinion, is the device used to start and finish the book (this constitutes two single pages).
There is an intriguing read across to two contemporary writers championing Africa, African history, and the passionate sense of identity centrered on Nigeria and Ghana.(not on ‘Africa’- that’s a huge conglomeration of nation states).

The first is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Americanah The all - American way of life, contrasted with the spiritual heart of Nigeria as developed by Chimamamba is a theme picked up by McFadden and running through Butterflies. Abeo (and Ifemelu In Americanah) both work in braiding salons too!!

The other very recent comparison is with Marlon James’s Black Leopard, Red Wolf set in sub Saharan Africa, and including Ghana. Both James and McFadden feature Sasabonsam- the vampire. Both authors write compellingly about the actions of committed individuals who bring comfort, shelter and protection to the most disadvantaged and abused members of communities (many of them from childhood).

Finishing the book I felt, surprisingly, heartened. It’s good that this story is being told in a way that does not just tap in to the obvious judgemental conclusion.

McFadden quotes Gandhi:
the weak can never forgive; forgiveness is an attribute of the strong (176)

McFadden makes sure her heroine, is not, ultimately, a broken victim:

”Scars are proof of survival, they shouldn’t be hidden” (198)

My favourite, and most memorable book of 2019 so far, and one I hope progresses to the Women’s Prize shortlist.

[Alex · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

SHORTLISTED FOR WOMEN’S PRIZE IN FICTION

12 OF 16 OF THE SHORTLISTED BOOKS READ

This is a very readable and quite moving fictionalized story of a young girl whose parents have sold her into slavery after a bout of bad luck has struck the family and the father blames her for the misfortune. Following the young girls arduous and brutal path, as well as the family members who have been blindsided by the father’s actions, the You reader is not spared the detail of pain and suffering all must suffer. Although I found the writing rather plain, nothing flourishing, and I have some doubts about a very American perspective driving the story, it was nonetheless a strong and accessible story.