Yewande’s switch between clarity and ambiguity is a brilliant style, the work of a poet who writes for herself, and for us, and who addresses — even wonders whether she belongs eternally among — the living through a spirit that never dies or among the dead through a body that begins to die the very day we are born.
In this collection, Yewande Adebowale feels a strong need to take a backward glimpse, to rummage around in her own utterly unique collection of remembered watershed moments, sights and sounds and to relish the richly blended emotions we attach to them.
Each page of the novel enveloped me in a shroud of uncertainty as the book burst in suspense. There were a lot of twists and turns as well as highs and lows that increased my yearning for what was to come.
Mondays, in the past few weeks, always find me in a tight spot. I can’t figure out in good time…