Chris Abani, Song for Night

I am a huge fan of Chris Abani.

But Song for Night left me cold.

I am not sure if it was because I could never quite get over the conceit Abani sets up which makes the narrative possible (in the first person by an Igbo speaker whose vocal chords have been slashed); the disconnect between the language of the narrator, My Luck, and his purported age; or the slowly emerging sense as I pushed to the close of the book that I was reading something by Ben Okri.

And I have never much cared for Okri.

Abani's Graceland was a wonder -- rich, entertaining, evocative. Becoming Abigail made me ache. In my chest, and in my eyes. His poetry I find fascinating. And I am looking forward to The Virgin of Flames. But...

I was, for the first time, disappointed by one of Abani's books. His lyrical mode simply broke down instead of drawing me in. Abani's language, the great strength of his earlier books, simply doesn't fit the story or the "speaker" here.

Perhaps it was a failure of my own imagination in the reading; perhaps I had Iweala and Kourouma and lord knows who or what else too much in mind.

I am sure I will one day reread Song and perhaps it will sing something, or somehow, differently to me then.