... sharply observed ... It's a striking setup: as if The Other Black Girl strolled into Sex and the City ... The characterization is sophisticated and culturally adept if slightly depressing. Unlike Bernardine Evaristo's Girl, Woman, Other, which navigated similarly tricky cultural waters, there's not as much love, support or joy among the Black British women in Wahala – just constant striving. And the white secondary cast lacks nuance. Martin and Didier, Simi and Boo's white husbands, are mostly supportive and perfect ciphers, loving foils to the missing or disappointing Nigerian men whose emotional absences haunt the story...But that's a relatively minor issue. Men are mostly a sideshow here ... Where things break down a bit, is in the gap between Wahala's framing and its delivery. The prologue certainly raises expectations that the novel will be a literary or domestic thriller or contain elements of suspense like Big LIttle Lies or The Other Black Girl, and part of the journey will be in finding out how their glossy lives took such a wrong turn. But the prologue promises one thing— opening on a scene of a woman in extreme distress— and the book delivers another almost until the very end. How the danger and fear are manifest is uneven at best. We toggle between the different women's stories in various chapters as they go about their daily lives. But we're rarely privy to the interior thoughts or perspective of one of the most important characters till the end when, as in a Lifetime movie, their dysfunction really jumps out. Until that point, the creepiness is pretty understated ... mainly a social novel crossed with a comedy of manners, with fabulous Anglo-Nigerians in the lead. Luckily, that's a compelling blend. May is a masterful chronicler of Black upper-middle-class life and ennui in Britain. Wahala is both great fun and extremely smart in how it captures some of the central issues in modern city living: women's evolving roles in home and work, interracial relationships and multicultural identity, the current of competition that runs through so many friendships and daily interactions and, most of all, how easily intimacy can morph into enmity.
The wants, needs and ambitions of Ronke, Boo and Simi are recognisable and relatable, while their partners are simply props. It certainly works, if you read it as a nod to how all three women are seeking to fill the space left by missing or absent fathers – but at the same time leaves the arcs of Boo and Simi’s white husbands, Martin and Didier, and Ronke’s boyfriend, Kayode, somewhat unfinished ... May’s skill for weaving together entertaining personal problems with a wistfulness for Nigerian food, customs and culture is unparalleled ... However, as evocative as her writing is, it cannot mask that Wahala doesn’t quite deliver on the promise of the prologue. The ending feels hurried compared with the rest of the book, scuppering the explanations and revelations we’ve been chasing. Elsewhere, while we are offered a glimpse of the stark class divide that rules over Nigeria, commentary on colourism is minimal at best ... Even so, Wahala is hard to put down – an energetic, entertaining interrogation of fundamentally flawed friendship and how uncomfortable emotions such as jealousy and bitterness are not always easy to confront, yielding trouble indeed.
[A] sharply observed novel of female friendship, womanhood and betrayal featuring a glittering cast of Anglo-Nigerian women trying to have it all ... Amid complimenting outfits, sharing drinks and comparing fitness attempts, they are deeply involved in one another’s family lives, are open and honest about life as a 'mixed race' woman, and have a deep but complicated love of their Nigerian culture ... What makes Wahala (Nigerian for 'trouble'...and boy, is there plenty of it here) so terrific is the universally recognizable struggles and friendship ... an exciting and lively debut from a sharp new voice, perfect for readers of Liane Moriarty and Joshilyn Jackson.
May seamlessly weaves love, betrayal, self-reflection, and Nigerian food, clothing, and customs into this fast-paced debut ... Fans of domestic suspense will revel in this tale of friendship, family, and forgiveness, set in the cultural milieu of Lagos.
Equal parts comedy and tragedy, Wahala is a celebration of female friendships and a commentary on the fine lines that shift between friendly competition and jealousy and resentment. May boldly creates flawed characters who share the kind of vaguely offensive opinions you can only express to a best friend, drawing the reader into the intimacy of the dynamics among her alluring characters. May’s exciting and powerful first novel offers twists and turns that will leave the reader questioning how we’re going to get from A to B and loving every part of the ride.
For all its wittiness, fast-paced writing and recipes for Nigerian chicken stew and Aunty K’s moin moin, Wahala is a much darker read than you might expect. Many people get hurt—badly. It’s a story that reminds us of the ties that bind, and sometimes gag.
The author builds a propulsive reading experience as she slowly reveals Isobel’s manipulations while keeping the reasons behind them hidden. Compelling character studies of each of the women don’t shy away from the jealousies and judgments that sometimes make the line between friend and enemy razor thin. But once the climax is reached, it’s clear that not all the narrative pieces fit together. Dropped threads (Ronke deals with a stalker who has no bearing on the overall plot; discussions of colorism and internalized racism are never fully explored) and missed opportunities (Isobel is written as a caricature of destruction, with no voice of her own) keep the book from greatness ... A fascinating look at the dark side of female friendship.
... breezy if overdramatic ... While some of Isobel’s destructive behavior is outlandishly implausible, May’s nuanced exploration of race and gender makes this refreshing. This will leave readers intrigued to see what May does next.
