An Unusual Grief

by Yewande Omotoso

How do you get to know your daughter when she is dead?

This is the question which takes a mother on an unusual journey of self-discovery, both mental and sexual. When her daughter Yinka dies, Mojisola is finally forced to stop running away from the difficulties in their relationship, and also come to terms with Yinka the woman.

Mojisola’s grief leads her on a journey of self-discovery, as she moves into her daughter’s apartment and begins to unearth the life Yinka had built for herself there, away from her family. Through stepping into Yinka’s shoes, Mojisola comes to a better understanding not only of her estranged daughter, but also herself, as she learns to carve a place for herself in the world beyond the labels of wife and mother.

A bold and unflinching tale of one women’s unconventional approach to life and loss.

Genres: Fiction, Africa, Family, Nigeria, Literary Fiction, Novels, African Literature

240 pages, Unknown Binding

First published January 1, 2021

About the author

YEWANDE OMOTOSO was born in Barbados and grew up in Nigeria, moving to South Africa with her family in 1992. Trained as an Architect she is the author of Bom Boy (Modjaji Books, 2011) which won the South African Literary Award for First-Time Published Author and was shortlisted for the South African Sunday Times Fiction Prize. In 2013 she was a finalist in the the inaugural, pan-African Etisalat Fiction Prize. Her second novel The Woman Next Door (Chatto and Windus, 2016) was longlisted for the Bailey's Women Prize and shortlisted for the Dublin Literary Award. An Unusual Grief (Cassava Republic, 2022) is Omotoso's third novel. Omotoso works as a Storytelling Advisor with Greenpeace International and lives in Johannesburg.

Reviews

[Jola · Rating 3 out of 5]

There is a grain of irony in the title of Yewande Omotoso’s novel, An Unusual Grief (2021). Can grief be measured or compared? Should our reactions to loss follow some rules? According to the author, no and no. Everyone has the right to cope with mourning in their individual way and we should respect that, even if we feel shocked. For me, this is the central message of Unusual Grief, along with feminist issues and a warning that the effects of ignored and untreated depression can be fatal.

Yewande Omotoso’s intentions were remarkable because we do tend to judge people who react to death in an unconventional way although we are not entitled to do so. Unfortunately, the other aspects of this novel did not keep up with the ideas.

I had the impression the book was written by three different people. The beginning was promising: subtle, warm and subdued. So in tune with the delicate cover design. The author addressed Mojisola's pain after Yinka's, her twenty-four-year-old daughter's suicide with tact and empathy. Then Unusual Grief shifted suddenly and turned into a weird grotesque. There is something artificial and exaggerated about D-Man and Woodsman's subplot. The apogee was one of the most awkward sex scenes I have ever read. And then there was the ending, full of transparent moralizing and know-it-all tone, peppered with the author's aphorisms à la Paulo Coelho:

Even as we lose (such is the design of war), we fight.
[...]
We’re all love-soldiers — life’s unwavering assignment.
[...]
Pride is all the flesh you’ve grown, by necessity, around the bones of your pain.

Did Mojisola's story really need such a pompous final commentary? Especially given the fact that most of the book is written in a simple and unpretentious style. This contrast was slightly grating.

I appreciate Yewande Omotoso’s courage to write a book about a mother coming to terms with her only daughter's death and with herself but I am afraid her novel lacks the sublime and psychological truth I counted on. Of course, I had read the blurb beforehand and was prepared for a bleak book but hoped the literary quality would recompensate for it. It did not. I finished Unusual Grief drained and dispirited. The tragic subject matter was not the only reason.

PS
My original rating was two stars and a half but two characters, one human: a grumpy landlady, Zelda Petersen, and one feline: Inanna, Yinka’s pet, convinced me effectively to round up.


Analogous Colours, Titus Kaphar.

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 3 out of 5]

Longlisted for the 2023 Republic of Consciousness Prize, UK & Ireland

The title of An Unusual Grief is perfect - a story of a mother mourning her daughter, who committed suicide, but doing so in a very unconventional way.

Mojisola is a Nigerian who has moved with her academic husband, Titus, to South Africa. Their estranged daughter Yinka, in her twenties, lives in another part of the country, until her self-inflicted demise.

The novel opens with Mojisola visiting Yinka’s flat, ostensibly to clear up her belongings. But, her marriage in difficulties, she decides to move in to the rented flat and she also turns detective looking for clues to her daughter’s death. However, following up on missed phone calls and online chat rooms, this quest for the truth soon morphs into something else as Mojisola starts to live vicariously as Yinka, even dating someone her daughter had met online (having carefully checked no photos had been exchanged) which leads her into a Fet world of BDSM:

There is no end to this. Such a fallacy that grieving can be mapped, that it begins and also bottoms out. Day after day Mojisola remains locked up in thoughts, tracking through her life to find the actual moment of her crime as a mother; the actual second it was that she let her daughter fall. She is thinking as she does her grocery shopping, as she manages her online banking, as she browses for nail polish. Regularly she feels unable to eat, allows the now familiar malaise (the fever of her failures) to come upon her, take hold and stay.

She has looked in Midrand, she has snooped around, she has smacked the naked bums of strange men, her hands gloved, her rashes protected, healing. She has done all this and yet here it comes again, the sickness, the empty pit. Titus says they’ll never know. The problem is, she knows. She knows she failed. The question is, where exactly?

But the novel, and Mojisola’s search for the truth, also looks backwards to Mojisola’s marriage and the birth of Yinka, but even before that Mojisola’s complex relationship with her pious mother and her contrastingly somewhat outrageous Auntie (a relationship which transpires over the course of the story to be even more complex that she had realised):

Mojisola’s mother had referred to her as Jezebel in hushed tones. Auntie Jezebel was famed, in her youth, for dancing on stage with nothing but a string of cowrie shells and some (discreetly placed) yellow feathers.
…
Mojisola envied Auntie Modupe the space that she took up in the world. It felt as if she’d missed out on some birthright, some metaphysical connection to ancestral strings and pulleys constantly directing knowledge and behaviour.

Her mother had been the same. Expansive except, because of her devout leanings, she’d thrown it into the service of God, allowing it to reveal itself only when she prayed. Mojisola’s mother prayed with the intricacy of one who was on intimate terms with the Bible and the Lord. Her prayers were not so much prayers (beseeching in tone) as instructions, precise and even tinged, just that little bit, with impatience. Mojisola’s earliest memories are of the sound of her mother praying. And for some years — perhaps until she was five and growing in understanding of Christ and Afterlife — Mojisola had always thought, in praying, her mother was addressing a subordinate, some stubborn person who never learnt and constantly had to be appealed to to do the correct thing.

Auntie Modupe had that same air of superiority: she carried herself in a certain way and addressed you as if every second she spent doing so was a grace she bestowed. There was a poise to both women that Mojisola was certain she had not inherited. Further proof was how flummoxed she was by motherhood. She could not imagine her mother becoming undone by her entry into the world. How could a child — a simple small being — have come and shifted her so?

A fascinating and beautifully crafted story with a rich cast of characters. 3.5 stars

This is the latest book from Cassava Republic Press:

Cassava Republic Press was founded in Abuja, Nigeria, 2006 with the aim of bringing high quality fiction and non-fiction for adults and children alike to a global audience. We have offices in Abuja and London.

Our mission is to change the way we all think about African writing. We think that contemporary African prose should be rooted in African experience in all its diversity, whether set in filthy-yet-sexy megacities such as Lagos or Kinshasa, in little-known communities outside of Bahia, in the recent past or indeed the near future.

We also think the time has come to build a new body of African writing that links writers and readers from Benin to Bahia. It’s therefore the right time to ask challenging questions of African writing – where have we come from, where are we now, where are we going? Our role is to facilitate and participate in addressing these questions, as our list grows. We are still just beginning.

[Bookread2day · Rating 3 out of 5]

Extract from An Unusual Grief

Dear Prof and Mrs Owolabi,

My name is Zelda Petersen. I was your daughter’s landlady here at Grove Cresent, Midrand, Gauteng. I am sorry for your loss.I had expected someone to come by the flat but as I have not heard from you, I thought it appropriate to write. I have this physical address because it is the alternative address Yinka provided when we performed the security check. I hate to bring up anything unpleasant but some of Yinka’s things remain and I, as life dictates, am required to let the flat. Which brings me to another delicate matter. As per law the lease does not terminate on the passing of tenant ( Yinka). In fact her executor ( I assume that is you, her parents) is required to terminate the lease. Can you please do so, in writing, post haste. Monies owing ( for instance if you require that I courier her belongings) will be sent to this address in the form of an invoice, and I would appreciate prompt response. I apologise for interrupting your grief with these seemingly trivial matters. Thank you for taking the time to attend to my request.
Kind regards,
Zelda Petersen

[Dagio_maya · Rating 2 out of 5]

Il genitore perfetto non esiste.
Quante volte abbiamo sentito ripetere questa frase? Quante volte – chi genitore lo è- l’ha ripetuta fino a farne uno scudo?
La perfezione non esiste ma, di base, quando si diventa genitori occorre mettersi in secondo piano ogni qual volta ce ne sia bisogno.

Siamo in Sud Africa.
Yinka se n’è andata di casa. Ha messo tra lei e i genitori una distanza di circa 1400 km ma forse non bastava perché a soli 23 anni ha deciso rendere definitivo il suo distacco e si è suicidata.

Un romanzo con temi “forti” e toccanti ma affidato a due protagonisti che ho profondamente odiato.
L’insolito lutto consiste in un’elaborazione che ha del bizzarro Mojisola, la madre, va a Johannesburg a casa della figlia ormai morta e giorno dopo giorno s’immedesima nella vita della figlia. Indossa i suoi vestiti, incontra i suoi amanti, si presenta col suo nome...
Un processo originale ma fastidioso perché sia lei che il padre dimostrano non solo che il genitore perfetto non esiste ma, spesso, si vive mettendo in primo piano se stessi per piangere, poi, s’un latte versato che è diventato rancido.

Il racconto è intercalato da ricordi sia di Mojisola sia di Titus, il padre. Un palcoscenico dove esibiscono i loro bisogni, le loro necessità e non fanno altro che raccontare di quante occasioni mancate, quanti silenzi e sguardi ignorati.
Doveva morire la figlia perché nascessero due genitori?

Un romanzo è un composto di tanti ingredienti. Mi piace la penna di Omotoso ma i suoi personaggi – e devo dire per la seconda volta- hanno qualcosa che mi irrita terribilmente.

Per questo motivo il mio giudizio non può essere positivo.


” Mojisola ora immagina che il trucco, i tacchi, facciano parte di un’armatura. Magrezza feroce. E che anche quando si perde (la guerra è fatta così), si combatte. È quello che ha sempre visto, senza sapere cosa aveva davanti agli occhi. Non la perfezione, non gente che non vacilla mai, piuttosto il contrario. E così ora, finalmente, può includere sé stessa nel mondo. Ora cammina per le strade come se le avesse costruite con le proprie mani. Ora guarda in faccia le persone come se si guardasse allo specchio; vede sé stessa, la sua fragilità, si vede brutta e meravigliosa. Vede la propria vergogna e il proprio coraggio, la capacità di fallire ma anche di fare magie.”

[Lady Clementina ffinch-ffarowmore · Rating 4 out of 5]

My thanks to Cassava Republic Press and NetGalley for a review copy of this book.

An Unusual Grief is a story of grief but it is also the story of a woman’s journey to understand herself, and her relationships—one might even say her life so far. Mojisola Owolabi has travelled to Johannesburg to pack up her daughter Yinka’s flat, after the latter’s death. Not having been very close to Yinka, through this experience Mojisola is also attempting to understand the person her daughter was while also coping with her grief at the loss and guilt over the matter. But while coming to terms with what has happened, Mojisola also begins to examine her own life—her childhood and upbringing by a strict and very religious mother with occasional visits by a more fun-loving aunt; her marriage to Titus (Yinka’s father), with whom we soon find she has a difficult relationship; her experiences in her work life; the move from Nigeria where they belonged to South Africa; the illness she has struggled with and much else. As we move through the book, various aspects related to Yinka as well as Mojisola’s own life are revealed in bits and pieces—like peeling away the layers of an onion. In attempting to understand Yinka, Mojisola ends up ‘becoming’ her and living her life for a while, which takes her into challenging territory and experiences she never would have otherwise even imagined, and in which she also breaks free from the bounds in which she has so far been living.

The novel is written in a stream of consciousness style so we keep floating between events taking place in the present to memories and occurrences from Mojisola’s past—childhood, marriage, work life and motherhood. Going back and forth (and not in any particular order), we find ourselves navigating dreams and reality, past and present, memories and experiences, but never once in this flow did I ever find myself lost or confused in any way as to what was being dealt with or where we were.

While the novel centres on Mojisola, we are introduced to various characters—her husband Titus of course, her mother and aunt, but also people from Yinka’s life including her landlady Zelda Petersen (with whom Moji starts off on a tricky note but soon ends up befriending), and others who were part of her life (her friends and contacts). Each of them (all well drawn-out) provides her with an insight into Yinka but also becomes part of her journey to find herself. Many of them (in fact most of the ones we get to know closely) carry their own burdens and have their own struggles of which we also get a glimpse and which helps makes sense of them somewhat. One feels for most of them (Mojisola herself, Yinka, Zelda, but perhaps not Titus) and all that they have had to deal with.

The book deals with a range of subjects from grief and loss to friendships and relationships, love and betrayal, art and expression, patriarchy and propriety, roots and culture and definitely gets us thinking; even when going into uncomfortable territory, the author raises questions that highlight the hypocrisies that define our societies (for instance, through the character D-Man, a friend of Yinka’s who is into BDSM).

This was certainly a unique read, and very different from other books—poignant and heart-breaking in parts, challenging, uncomfortable and shocking in others, but one which kept me reading all through.

[BookOfCinz · Rating 3 out of 5]

I absolutely enjoy how Yewande writes.

[Pedro · Rating 3 out of 5]

El título perdió con la traducción del original An unusual grief. El término inglés grief, se aplica a un sufrimiento prolongado, y por extensión a la pérdida de un ser querido. En castellano, el término duelo, se aplica tanto al período de sufrimiento por una pérdida, como a una competencia o al enfrentamiento entre dos caballeros para salvar el honor. Este título puede resultar equívoco (o polisémico).

Mojisola y Titus, en Ciudad del Cabo, reciben la terrible noticia de la muerte de su hija, ocurrida en Johannesburgo. Yinka se había ido de casa, peleada con sus padres, y desde entonces los contactos habían sido escasos y sólo formales.

Los padres, comenzarán a cambiar y a distanciarse, agobiados por el duelo, como es frecuente en estas situaciones. Y mientras Titus se hunde en la melancolía, Mojisola se muda al departamento de Yinka: quiere sumergirse en la vida de su hija, para entenderla mejor y mejorar la comprensión de las razones de su suicidio.

Toda la primera parte, en la que Mojisola, avanza en su búsqueda sin detenerse ante nada y queriendo saber todo, me pareció un abordaje muy diferente e interesante; casi una ruptura de todo lo que se consideraría normal o habitual en este tipo de historias. Y no es que haya una negación del dolor: está ahí y se siente.

Pero un poco después de la mitad, la historia empieza a desbarrancar, incluyendo una cuasi apología, innecesaria, de las prácticas sadomasoquistas "cuidadas" (una especie de Marqués de Sade pasteurizado), y con argumentos remanidos: "Nosotros tenemos una moral mayor que muchos de los hipócritas que nos critican".(Acá se escucha la risa burlona de Sade).

Aparecen algunos flashes que insinúan inteligencia y originalidad, así como intentos por recuperar el eje de la historia, que sólo logran alargar la novela. No es cuestión de compensar; a veces hay que recortar. Una vez más, aparece la importancia de los editores, o los consejeros.

Una pena.

Yewonde Omotoso (1980) es arquitecta y escritora; nació en Barbados, se crio en Nigeria y reside en Johannesburgo, Sudáfrica.

PD. Un agradecimiento a los Librarians que incluyeron la edición en castellano de la novela.

[Anika · Rating 3 out of 5]

Eine Geschichte vordergründig über Trauer, Schock und Schuld, die aber auch weitere Themen geschickt einarbeitet, z.B. psychische Erkrankungen und toxische Männlichkeit. Dazu schön gezeichnete Charaktere (inkl. kiffender älterer Ladies). Sprachlich schrammte es hier und dort knapp am motivierenden Glückskeks vorbei, aber ingesamt eine lohenswerte Reise nach Südafrika (und etwas Nigeria).

Mehr zum Buch in unserer ausführlichen Besprechung @ Papierstau Podcast: #281

[DrWarthrop · Rating 4 out of 5]

Die ganze Rezension im Papierstau Podcast lässt sich unter folgendem Link finden:
Link zur Folge

[Puleng Hopper · Rating 5 out of 5]

You know how they say there is no perfect book. 'An Unusual Grief' was perfect for me.

The novel 'An Unusual Grief ' illustrates how unresolved personal trauma is wont to manifest itself in the present, and continue to cause strife that may lead to mental pathologies. It shows how generations of parents are likely to repeat history by not facing up to their ghosts from the past .

Yewande maps this trajectory by going three generations back, and relates the story of a mom, who has to come to terms, and grieve the tragic and unexpected loss of their only child. 24 year old Yinka was estranged from both her parents at the time of her passing. In an attempt for mom to know her daughter posthumously, she learns and discovers a lot about herself.

'An Unusual Grief ' is a story on self discovery, sexual rejuvenation, career revitalization, mental health, art, marriage , love, religion, parenting, death, family , and belonging.

Although mainly set in South Africa and gives a nod to Nigeria , 'An Unusual Grief ' is universally palatable . The diverse characters may be easily placed in various parts of the globe.

In her second novel 'The Woman Next Door' (2016) Yewande brought to life 80 year old characters in Hortensia and Marion. In 'An Unusual Grief' she perfected it by depicting how 60 is the new 40 , with the character Mojisola. The message was clear and loud that, the sexuality and sexual exploration of older African women need not be a taboo subject. In the book , Mojisola, who had ' bi monthly mechanical sex with a cheating husband ' page 144, was given centre stage, a voice and sexual urgency . It brought to mind the novel 'Season Of Crimson Blossoms' by Abubakar Adam Ibrahim , his 55 year old protagonist , Binta , had sexual revival, 20 or so years after her husband's passing . Unfortunately though, it ended in tears.

Yewande showcases excellent character development of the main and sub characters alike . The characters are different, and flawed. The type of people , we often , in our lives shy away from talking about . Zelda Petersen for example, dodgy, awkward, unsociable, and cold in the beginning, however, as the story progressed, i got to like her, empathised and vouched for her. I was further fascinated that there were two feline characters in the story, who were not mere extras.

'An Unusual Grief' covers uncomfortable aspects of parenting esp in the formative years of children. It will get readers to introspect about the type of parents they may be, or are. Are they perhaps the type of parents whose kids will need to heal from their upbringing of them ?

' An Unusual Grief ' is beautifully narrated, with great attention to detail, and a witty play of words. The poignant writing moves seamlessly across eras and settings without causing confusion to the reader .

The story is also propelled via journals of a deceased daughter and grieving father . Yewande also used journaling effectively in her first novel ' Bom Boy' (2011) Leke's father also spoke to him via letters that the father had written in jail.

'An Unusual Grief ' is a brilliant, multilayered, and thought provoking rumination on , death and sex, a lethal combination, pun unintended. Not easy topics to marry.

Yewande takes her readers seriously and has high work ethics. The book got five stars from me, and I wish that everybody can experience it. Plenty of book discussion points that will have book club members feeling like kids at a candy shop.

[Benedicta Dzandu · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed it!

[Bernice · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5⭐️

This is a long review but I wrote it so because this book resonated with me deeply and I didn't want to leave anything out.

An Unusual Grief is a sad but beautiful story about a mother trying to find answers in the aftermath of her daughter's suicide. She moves to her daughter's apartment goes through her things and tries to meet up with the people her daughter interacted with when she was alive, to try and understand her daughter better.

The mother's emotions are brought out really well in the book:
Today she'll meet with the people who knew her daughter, knew her daughter's life. She anticipates judgement. She and Titus will be together. They will stand together but people will look at her. That's the mother. Our Yinka killed herself and they buried her without telling us. That's the mother.

It explores:

Grief:
Do I miss her now? I don't just miss her now, I miss her for all the absences that are still approaching

Grief comes like an old friend she knows it now. The sense of panic is the first to arrive, atavistic, instinctual, the horror of death however ubiquitous, the shock of its ordinariness, that casual way death arrives in all lives at all times reminding how small we are.

Depression:
That's what we are. People with nowhere to put the sadness. We try, everyone, we try to stuff it away. And sadness doesn't really fold.

Complex Mother-Daughter Relationships:
"I'm unhappy Mummy"
"All the time?" Yinka nodded. "I don't feel well. I want to but...I can't."
"Cover it," her mother said but not with any meanness, mostly just clear fright in her eyes which conveyed to Mojisola that without the covering, the world out there would devour her."

And probably the line that stood out the most for me from this book, when Yinka's dad refuses to pick up her call because she hasn't been picking his not knowing that that was the final call she'd ever make:

Pride is all the flesh you have grown by necessity around the bones of your pain.

[Amanda Yow · Rating 5 out of 5]

A bittersweet exploration of grief, loneliness and self-discovery through the lens of Mojisola, as she copes with the loss of her daughter. The prose is stunning and evocative. Feelings and sensations felt by the characters are palpable throughout the pages. Grief is a multi-faceted emotion, and Omotoso’s depiction of it via Mojiosola and the characters surrounding her - is one that is so painfully universal.

[Joan Mero · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 ⭐️

[Rena · Rating 3 out of 5]

Mmmh this is less plot based and more about the grief of somebody you never rlly got the chance to connect w (and from a parents pov)
And ofc the generational trauma makes an appearance ♥️ breaking the cycle but also making ur own mistakes and feeling the distance that stings in the way only a mother daughter relationship can

[La_fede_legge · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dopo la volontaria scomparsa della figlia Yinka, la madre Mojisola cerca di capire le ragioni di quella drastica decisione e di ripercorrere e ricostruire la vita della ragazza con la quale, purtroppo,non aveva più rapporti da mesi. Attraverso diari, testimonianze, conoscenze e persone con interessi vari ed inimmaginabili, Mojisola si interroga su quella figlia sempre troppo magra,scoprendo lati nascosti della sua vita e interrogandosi sul suo ruolo di madre. Grazie a questo percorso, Mojisola cerca di capire anche la propria esistenza, i propri errori e la propria identità di moglie e compagna di un uomo traditore.
Questo testo è piuttosto scorrevole e semplice; il racconto,strutturato in tre parti, è di facile comprensione e coinvolge il lettore in un crescendo di curiosità e interrogativi.
Il finale, purtroppo,risulta un po' forzato e meno coinvolgente rispetto al resto del romanzo, ma in generale la lettura appare gradevole e originale.

[Thecutestlithops · Rating 5 out of 5]

As a daughter and as someone who's recently lost her maternal grandmother, this book truly healed me even though I didn't think I needed healing.

It felt like a hug I didn't know I needed

[J Kuria · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a heavy one... did not expect it, though I guess I should have from the title. The exploration of death, grief, and mental health was really well done... I resonated with a bunch of stuff written here. The writing was really good too.

[Kim · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5⭐️

[Zandi · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is layered, even with its brevity. It’s paradoxical. The things that you like about the book can easily be the things you don’t quite enjoy about it. I think that’s what makes it a page-turner.


Firstly, the prose is incredible. Yewande writes well. With precision and intent. Alas, she wrote so well that it felt like she wrote over her characters; missing a critical point in literature - character development. Her voice was so strong that it made the characters feel and sound similar. Well developed characters evolve with the reader. They a missable long after the reader has put the book down. With this book, while I enjoyed the meditative writing, I didn’t quite feel like the characters had distinct voices and believable emotional trajectories.

The books touches on very sensitive themes; parent- to child relationships; mental health; BDSM as a way to bring forth personal choices that belie social convention and more. At the center, is grief. Grief that anchors all other losses that are concomitant to the human condition. And the unconventional ways in which we mourn such losses. It will have you reflecting on aspects of your life that you’ve otherwise not had the language to articulate or remind you of the work you’ve done in your mental health journey. So it’s nagging in that way. In a good, inward looking way.

All in all, I enjoyed it and very keen to read more of her work.

[Sookie · Rating 4 out of 5]

An Unusual grief is a poignant story about a mother and the loss of mother losing her daughter. A conversation gone wrong, the mother-daughter pair are estranged and before this relationship can be fixed, the daughter commits suicide. Overtaken by grief, the mother moves to the daughter's apartment in an effort to understand and reconnect to her life, or what it was. With time and a little bit of help, the mother rediscovers not just who her daughter had become after she left home but also herself, the part of her that she had to repress so that she could put on an acceptable facade in front of the society.

The book deals with childhood depression, sexuality, expression of sexual desires in a very poignant way allowing the readers to settle into their own conclusions. In this lies the strength of the novel as Omotoso shows what people are without as much telling this is how people are. Truly good storytelling.

Thank you to Netgalley and Cassava Republic Press for providing me with a free copy of this e-book in exchange for an honest review.

[Nkatha · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a beautiful poignant story about a woman mourning her child. I absolutely loved the exploration not only into Moji's relationship with Yinka but also into the relationship between Moji and Titus, Moji and her Modupe. This book is about grief but its also about depression, and sexuality, and emotional intelligence, and parenting, and repressive religion. The writing was also so beautiful, I'm jealous of how good it was. Highly recommend this.
Thank you to Netgalley for the ARC.

[Ashley Muthaka · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book took me about 3 months to finish because LIFE and I’m currently going through a reading slump but I’m trying to get back into it. This book was HEAVY as it mostly centered around suicide and things that come with it - depression, loss, finding oneself. It also focused around friendship and BDSM (an interesting twist in the story). I enjoyed the storytelling and how it was told from different characters.

[Christina · Rating 4 out of 5]

In a strange way I took comfort in reading this story. Even though the premise is painful, Omotoso manages to bring many moments of emotions other than grief. The story aligns with the thoughts of inherited trauma and generational pain, and is not pretentious in its attempts to explain loss or grief. I feel like the boundaries could have been pushed a little further but I can fully appreciate this different approach to "a different approach to grief".

[Catalina · Rating 4 out of 5]

The pieces of a life, even when put together, assembled, never amount to the life itself.

How do you come to terms with the death of your only child? But how do you come to terms to the death of your only child "by her own hand"? How to piece together a motive, how to find out who is to blame? How to live with yourself and with guilt? How can you understand who your daughter was?

An Unusual Grief is a simple yet heartbreaking story of the unravelling of a mother in the aftermath of her daughter's suicide. In her quest of putting together her daughter's life after her death, she unravels all her life, all her emotions, all her pain, all her aspiration. Out of an excruciating pain, light emerges. In death, Yinka has given Mojisola a gift. There's a silver lining in everything, even in death.

*Book from NetGalley with many thanks to the publisher.

[Kindle Reader · Rating 4 out of 5]

One day I will have the words to describe how this book made me feel.

[a. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you to Cassava Republic and NetGalley for providing a digital ARC of An Unusual Grief in exchange for an honest review.

An Unusual Grief begins with a death. The protagonist, Mojisola, learns her daughter Yinka has died by suicide. She journeys from Cape Town to Yinka's apartment in Johannesburg and is left to collect what pieces she has left. This death comes after a period of separation between Yinka and her parents. Since this separation, or perhaps even earlier, she was something of an enigma to her mother, with a mind incomprehensible to her despite her deep yearning to "act as a mother" and shelter her daughter. By taking up in Yinka's apartment and uncovering what her life was before it wasn't, Mojisola tries to understand who her daugher was and why she is gone.

Omotoso's writing is poignant and distinct. As the title suggests, this novel felt unusual in its uniqueness. Mojisola's struggles with motherhood and grief are heavy yet Omotoso deals with this with a lyricism that tugs at the reader, The characters who once surrounded Yinka and come to revolve around Mojisola feel fully realized, particularly, Zelda, the pot smoking landlady and D-man, the BDSM-inclined businessman. Even her at first seemingly useless husband Titus has his own story to undercover. Yet, at the heart of this book is Mojisola and Yinka, one character we fully come to understand and another whose glaring absence is felt as much by the reader as it is by her mother.

I really enjoyed this and look forward to reading more by Yewande Omotoso in the future.

[Inge Brinkman · Rating 5 out of 5]

How do you get to know (the life of) your daughter when she is dead? This question leads the mother Mojisola to thinking about and experiencing love, sex and friendship with other humans (and cats), to telling her history and the relationship with her own mother or aunt, to killing a knife, to listening to lullabies from under the ground, to smoking weed, to applying perfume between her thighs, to drawing, etc. Sentences like: ‘You cannot read the story when you are the book’ and 'If you attempt to clean the messiness of life you end up scrubbing the life away from living’ really speak to me and I enjoyed reading this. I found this a well-crafted and beautiful novel.

[Robyn Phillips · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wow, in a time of my own grief this novel took me through some beautiful and warming emotions. Although not entirely about grief itself, this novel depicts both human devastation and truly growth and honesty that comes from it. A beautiful novel set in both cities that have my heart.

[Giada · Rating 3 out of 5]

Una madre insegue le tracce della figlia morta suicida, sentendosi al contempo investigatrice e colpevole, un po' come in un giallo ma senza tanta suspense, il focus è perlopiù interiore. Di facile lettura, abbastanza ben costruito, prosa senza infamia e senza lode.