The story of one young man remembering. It's an entreaty to a lost culture, and a fight for love, for family, and for the respite of fixed identity. And in its searing and delicate questionings—of belonging, addiction, sexuality, violence, mental health, and religion
Somber ... The oppressive journey, related in K's fearless, often disturbingly forthright voice, conveys extraordinary pain and unhappiness, eased only by the beauty and compassion of Owusu's writing ... The novel's bite-sized chapters, most of which run no more than a page, are written in first-person prose filled with poetic flourishes. Assonance is abundant...and so is gorgeous slant rhyme ... Again and again, sentences sing with K's frisky wordplay.
In rhythmic, slippery prose, this slim Bildungsroman aims to capture the growing K’s ever-shifting attitude towards his blackness and heritage, his multifaceted relationships with his parents, battles with alcoholism and fluctuating mental health ... The intense scrutiny of detail is, of course, uncomfortable, but the commitment to the microscopic recording of experience gives the narration a uniquely poetic texture ... Some readers will question the efficacy of the framing device, the statements delivered to an impassive Anansi. Others might find some of the lyricism and stylistic innovations distracting rather than illuminating. But there is a palpable charge and welcome freshness to the voice here that is undeniable.
Hypnotic ... By novel’s end, the reader is left feeling as though they’ve experienced another person’s life, both the ecstatic heights and harrowing depths. Owusu reckons movingly with complex personal and familial dynamics.
