Once again, I am caught in my Nigerian author frenzy. Guys, I have been taken with all Nigerian entertainment for the past few days. I have to say it is more familiar and has more compelling power than the Western stuff I am so used to. I should be ashamed to even be saying this but I am making up for it with my thirsty spirit.
One of the books I have read and that has struck a chord in my heart is this thriller novel by Oyinkan Braithwaite called My Sister, the Serial Killer. Set in Nigeria, this story covers the dependable older sister, Korede, and her “exotic” younger sister, Ayoola, who has the habit of ‘mistakenly’ unaliving someone. Korede would always step up and be the big sister in such situations, helping her ‘traumatised’ younger one to get rid of the body even though said ‘traumatised’ one would bounce back almost immediately the next day or even right at that moment.
I don’t know what I expected when I started this book, what I am sure of is how much the cover captivated me and how I got immersed in the storyline especially after a love interest was revealed. I first thought that Ayoola has to be some kind of psycho or sociopath. She seemed so devoid of emotions and still had all the right responses to dire situations - almost like a robot. The novel played out from Korede’s pov. Not only did we glimpse the mountain of differences between both sisters but also their very dark past, a past that may or may not have played a fundamental role to Ayoola’s lack of conscience and aversion to men - even if it is not stated in obvious fashion, her victims are all men.
As for Korede, let us say that she is quite a dependable sister. So reliable in fact, she is gullible to the devices of her sister. I as a reader could tell that Korede was putty in the hands of Ayoola, she was easily manipulated and this becomes more obvious as the novel reaches its end. Ayoola is an expert manipulator and Korede either decided to believe her lies or just found no other way to cope with the secrets she has buried deep. Just how far are we willing to go for family?
Ayoola might have been right in one thing though and that is how men are naturally drawn by physical things. Though Korede had her heart crushed to molecules, she was no longer foolish to this fact. Now that leaves my earlier question; how far can we go for family?
The relationship between these two, their dynamics, and everything in-between casted more shadows over this morbid story. It was the cake and the cream all at the same time. For some reason, the way it ended did not come as a surprise to me, rather it was like I saw it but did not see. I couldn’t help but liken Korede to a demoralized victim of circumstance. Someone who had crossed the grey line and sat firm in the darkness, knowing the dangers and yet prefers to stay there because life without the darkness was unsafe. She preferred to carry those secrets as life without her sister felt so grim.
I can’t say I relate (to a large extent - although I have memories of my childhood as the oldest where everything the younger ones did was my fault) but this book was so good I finished it in under 12 hours. It's only about 300 pages long and has very detailed scenes chopped into bits for savoury purposes. There is no confusion, it flows from one to the other. The style and technique is most appealing to me because as beautiful as it was, it was simple, away from the complicated and focused more on the story than the prose.
This book is a 4.5 out of 5 for me. Sometimes justice doesn’t come swiftly. Especially in a country like Nigeria that misses all the right materials on purpose. Will these girls ever be caught? Does Ayoola plan to stop anytime soon?
