![]() ![]() ![]() Yinka, a colleague of Korede’s, “pales to the point of insignificance beside Ayoola” but that’s because the latter wears a dress “that by no means hides her generous breasts”. They are reflective too of the casual approach to language.Īnyone on cliché watch will spot frequent examples – beelines, quintessential black dresses, fears triggered, mouths that wouldn’t melt butter, sorry excuses for human beings – in addition to awkward physical descriptions. Their mundane headings – Father, Bracelet, Car, Heart – initially seem superfluous but soon fit with the book’s light-hearted style. The book is structurally impressive, the short, titled chapters meshing together with ease. The sister’s relationship is well drawn, with Korede both jealous of Ayoola’s beauty and hugely protective of her, an impulse that is fuelled by an abusive father whose back story is revealed incrementally, adding a sense of mystery. ‘You don’t have to post at all.’ … ‘How long, though?’ … ‘A year, I guess’ … ‘You must be kidding me.’” Narrative flow As Korede struggles to keep the police from finding out about Femi, there is much humour in Ayoola’s blasé attitude: “‘How long am I meant to post boring, sad stuff?’. Braithwaite’s deft characterisation brings Ayoola to life as a cheerful, breezy young woman whose positive attributes can equally be read as sociopathic. ![]() Set in a vibrantly rendered Lagos, the narrative jumps between the present-day murder of Femi and Ayoola’s previous murders, the first of which took place when she was 17. The opening line says it all: "Korede, I killed him." Although she was just about to eat her dinner, Korede downs her cutlery and digs out the bleach and rubber gloves. The tongue-in-cheek narrative begins with an urgent call from her sister, the beautiful Ayoola, asking her to come to her boyfriend Femi's apartment. The unfortunate narrator of the book is Nigerian nurse Korede, a woman in her 30s who cleans up her sister's murders. There is little in the way of psychological depth in My Sister, The Serial Killer, but its deadpan tone and well-paced story make up for the shortcomings. A darkly comic novel that doesn't take itself too seriously, it's an easy read, and a fitting vehicle for anyone wishing to indulge in murderous fantasies over the festive period. For anyone languishing in the family home in those dead days between Christmas and new year – turkey demolished, Christmas specials watched, Scrabble and Monopoly boards upended – Oyinkan Braithwaite's debut My Sister, The Serial Killer could be just the thing. ![]()
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