Black Fiction: Black Rock | The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives
The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives
by Lola Shoneyin
Serpent’s Tail; 256 pp; £10.99
Baba Segi’s three wives share an unspoken vow to protect a colossal secret. But the arrival of Bolanle, a newer, younger, perkier, fourth wife, threatens to reveal the devastating truths at the heart of this riotous household as Lola Shoneyin guides us through life as a Nigerian co-wife. The Secret Lives of Bab Segi’s Wives evokes a cacophonous world in which a woman’s identity is denoted by her role as a mother, but Bolanle is pointedly bereft and heartbreakingly barren.
A published poet, Shoneyin’s debut novel glorifies in the humorous poeticism of domestic life with its miniscule rituals and routines. “Secret lives” are ironically denied their supposed concealment, as the reader embarks on a voyeuristic voyage through the life-stories of Baba Segi, his wives, children and acquaintances. The narrative is rife with claustrophobia, reducing independent experience to a mere facet of the institution of family, and continually embracing abrasive opposites: man and woman; child and adult; fertility and barrenness. Individuals are not diminished beyond recognition, but at times it is hard to distinguish singular male and female voices. This certainly reflects the enforced intimacy of unlikely camaraderie and friendship in a chaotically polygamous household, but it prevents readers from feeling a true affinity with one character, leaving the tragic culmination of the narrative unable to wield some of the emotional intensity it may otherwise have provoked.
Shoneyin’s novel is perhaps best appreciated like a collection of short stories; each chapter is endowed with a richly synecdochic title that summarizes the snippet of storytelling it contains. The opening chapter, ‘Bellyache’, denotes Baba Segi’s physical condition, but also linguistically hints at the moaning and anguish that pervades this simmering, mutinous household. Amusing anecdotes of day-to-day life litter the novel, always narrated with an ironic light-heartedness. From Iya Segi’s darkly comic machinations to gain fiscal independence from her husband to the discovery of a mysterious, bloodied rat head in the house, Shoneyin is at home with this “kitchen sink” drama, and glorifies in tricking the reader into a sense of domestic security that is violently ruptured by one wife’s insatiable desire for vengeance.
A tale of intra- and inter-sexual relationships gone awry, Secret Lives subtly suggests that only the individual – the self – can be truly relied upon. In this metonymic vision of discordant homes everywhere, men and women alike may betray you, whether they are husband or wife; father or mother; rapist or abuser.
Laura Turner
Black Rock
by Amanda Smyth
Serpent’s Tail; 250pp; £7.99
Celia D’abadie’s mother dies while giving birth to her daughter. With her father gone back to Southampton, Celia begins life as an orphan. Black Rock is the name of the little seaside village in Tobago where she lives with her Aunt Tassi and twin cousins. The only dents in Celia’s otherwise simple existence are her longings for her elusive father and her hatred for her Uncle Roman.
One fateful night, Roman shatters Celia’s world, forcing the young girl to run away to Trinidad. It is the 1950s and Celia is a beautiful sixteen-year-old alone in the capital Port of Spain. Slowly, she begins to forge a new life, working as a maid and nanny for a white doctor and his family. She moves between their privileged realm and the simple life of her Aunt Sula in the northern countryside of Tamana. Soon Celia finds herself torn between two men, fulfilling the predictions of Mrs Jeremiah, the village’s “seer woman” who foresaw that Celia would lead a life of tragedy. Through it all she holds onto the little piece of black rock Mrs Jeremiah gave her to ‘keep bad luck at bay.’
The world in Black Rock is described with an astute eye by author Amanda Smyth. We discover 1950s Trinidad through vivid snapshots that contrast sharply with Celia’s simple childhood growing up by the seaside. You almost feel like you are looking over the hills of Laventille and peering out at the garden in St Claire. Herein lies the book’s strength as the author captures the contrasts and similarities of country and city life as well as the chasm between the classes and races.
But the vivid imaginary comes with a melancholic underbelly. Celia lives in a world where no one can be trusted, not even Little Joe – the doctor’s son or the gentle William who adores her. And even though the story is told by Celia, there is a certain detachment that prevents the reader from really getting to know Celia. As Celia recounts her life it often feels like she is talking of a stranger and not referring to herself. The moments when she does express emotions tend to be sparks of compulsion which disappear as quickly as they are exposed. There is a sense of rigid inevitability to the story, which can be a bit frustrating. You end up yearning for someone, especially Celia, to venture away from the predicted path.
Black Rock is nonetheless a fascinating first novel that gives a rare insight into life in Trinidad and Tobago under colonial times. It’s also a beautiful portray of a young girl stuck in a maddening circle.
Janine Dyer
It’s great to hear some different responses to ‘The Secret Lives’, and I’d love to hear more about the elements other people particularly enjoyed when reading the novel. As I say in my review, I did enjoy the novel as a whole and it was certainly an interesting read, but in comparison to other titles I have read recently, I didn’t enjoy it as much as others I could mention (such as ‘Black Mamba Boy’). I tried to be honest about this in the review and it is a shame if that comes across as self-consciously “journalistic”. I don’t think something evaluative and analytical in tone cannot be an interesting and entertaining piece of creative writing in itself, and I certainly enjoyed getting to grips with it, but I appreciate that everyone is different. Do give some more detail about what you liked/didn’t like – or just about the subjectivity/creativity debate!
I have to agree with Tolita here. I bought this book a few days after it came out because, coming from West Africa myself, I wanted to see what this author would have to ‘say’ about polygamy in practice, in Africa. I was not disappointed. It is one of those books that keeps you at the edge of your seat. The story itself is very well told and I feel I would recognise Ibadan, Nigeria if I ever visited. The wives are vividly drawn. Although some of them were the meanest people I have ever read about, I felt sorry for them when I turned the last page. But what got me the most was Shoneyin’s language. I often felt like I was reading in the language of the characters and not in English at all. I also enjoyed her use of proverbs and and the general earthiness of the novel.
Reviews are subjective but it is very important that reviewers engage with the text and focus less on trying to impress the reader with meaningless phrases.
Very little of the readability factor and huge enjoyment to be got from this novel has been captured in this review, and that is just sad.
Sorry should say ‘at the risk of NOT properly assessing the subject at hand’.
Shalom x
I have to say I don’t think ‘The Secret Lives…’ lives is as clinical and near-soulless as this review suggests. It’s a very well written review but I fear it’s yet another example of a journalist trying to display their talent at the risk of properly assessing the subject at hand.
Shalom x
Two great reviews and I love the way Janine describes that “the vivid imaginary comes with a melancholic underbelly”! brilliant