My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
This book was just, WOW.
I read the whole thing in about 5 hours. I couldn’t put it down. We’re talking about the stay-in-the-same-ratty-tshirt-and-pajama-pants-and-don’t-shower-what-the-hell-I’m-not-even-getting-out-if-this-fusty-bed-that-needs-to-be-changed kind of couldn’t put it down. I was only able to eat because I have a husband who will bring me stuff when I ask nicely.
Bonus: I know next to nothing of Nigerian culture, so included in that 5 hours are several side trips down various rabbit holes of fruit, lagoons and bridges, and recipes. I love rabbit holes like that.
The only bad thing, that is also a good thing, is that it made me remember my own sister, dead 23 years now (inasmuch as I can “remember” her given that I miss her every single fucking day, still), and the until-now forgotten fact that I once committed an actual crime to keep my sister from having to answer for her own. And I’d do it again.
Sisters, I’m tellin’ ya.
This book was #3 on my 2020 Reading Challenge, a book that passes the Bechdel test. I don’t buy many books because I don’t have a lot of space, but I bought this one, because there’s just something about waiting to board a plane that makes me want to buy a book. I usually donate them later, but this is one I will actually keep.
Bookshelves: reading-in-airports, africa, women, dark-humor, chick-lit, literary-fiction
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