Here are 100 books that God of Mercy fans have personally recommended if you like
God of Mercy.
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Fiction has a way of capturing people, places, and phenomena that often elude source-bound historians. As I say in my book, you feel the weight of all the terrible things Colonel Kurtz has done in central Africa far more by his whispering “the horror, the horror” than I, as a historian, could possibly convey by listing them out and analyzing them. That feel–especially what contingency feels like–is something historians should seek out and try to pull into their craft of writing. Getting used to and using fiction to help historians see and feel the past is a worthwhile endeavor.
The idea to adapt Conrad’s Heart of Darkness came from my teaching of modern world history every semester. Later in that course, I would have students read Achebe’s novel as a foil or answer to Heart of Darkness. The Congolese in Heart are barely people: they have no names, and they are only really described by parts of their bodies.
This book presents the West African world–the communities, the customs, the emotions, the families–that colonialism destroys. While it is easy to be swept away by the story’s momentum in the last two dozen pages, take some time early in the novel to enjoy the world that Achebe lovingly paints. I think it is among the most human expressions of fiction you can read.
I am an avid reader of fantasy novels and a Nigerian. Born and raised in southern Nigeria, I grew up during a time when Nigerian culture closely resembled that of a century ago. Since the 1980s, my country has undergone significant cultural changes, and I am drawn to stories that remind me of a simpler time, before I started adulting. I am also deeply fascinated with history. I have delved into anthropological articles and textbooks dating back to the eighteenth century to gain a better understanding of my heritage and people. These readings have greatly influenced my own writing, allowing me to paint the vivid historical pictures that captivate me.
The novel is a portrait of the harsh realities of post-colonial life and a reflection on the complexities of African culture and history. I find that I can relate to the book's exploration of identity and the struggle between tradition and modernity.
Okri's protagonist, Azaro, navigates the physical and spiritual realms in a way that lines up with the Nigerian superstitions which shaped my life from a young age. His journey is believable and familiar in a unique blend of the fantastical with the real.
The lyrical prose and vivid imagery take me home, back to a world where the supernatural is a natural part of life and a cornerstone of the spirituality inherent in Nigerian culture.
Winner of the Man Booker Prize: “Okri shares with García Márquez a vision of the world as one of infinite possibility. . . . A masterpiece” (The Boston Sunday Globe).
Azaro is a spirit child, an abiku, existing, according to the African tradition, between life and death. Born into the human world, he must experience its joys and tragedies. His spirit companions come to him often, hounding him to leave his mortal world and join them in their idyllic one. Azaro foresees a trying life ahead, but he is born smiling. This is his story.
I am an avid reader of fantasy novels and a Nigerian. Born and raised in southern Nigeria, I grew up during a time when Nigerian culture closely resembled that of a century ago. Since the 1980s, my country has undergone significant cultural changes, and I am drawn to stories that remind me of a simpler time, before I started adulting. I am also deeply fascinated with history. I have delved into anthropological articles and textbooks dating back to the eighteenth century to gain a better understanding of my heritage and people. These readings have greatly influenced my own writing, allowing me to paint the vivid historical pictures that captivate me.
Unimpressed by Amos Tutuola’s debut novel, I approached My Life in the Bush of Ghosts with caution. However, I’m glad I took the leap. Tutuola’s vivid descriptions of supernatural entities from Yoruba tradition appealed to both the avid fantasy reader and the cultural historian in me.
The narrative of a young boy’s journey through a mystical forest paints an uncluttered picture of postcolonial Nigerian life. Despite my preference for complex prose, this simple storytelling evokes memories of time spent in my ancestral village, listening to tales told by the elders. Tutuola’s writing style, influenced by oral tradition, captivated my imagination, taking me on a uniquely Nigerian adventure.
My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, Amos Tutuola's second novel, was first published in 1954. It tells the tale of a small boy who wanders into the heart of a fantastical African forest, the dwelling place of innumerable wild, grotesque and terrifying beings. He is captured by ghosts, buried alive and wrapped up in spider webs, but after several years he marries and accepts his new existence. With the appearance of the television-handed ghostess, however, comes a possible route of escape.
'Tutuola ... has the immediate intuition of a creative artist working by spell and incantation.' V. S. Pritchett,…
I am an avid reader of fantasy novels and a Nigerian. Born and raised in southern Nigeria, I grew up during a time when Nigerian culture closely resembled that of a century ago. Since the 1980s, my country has undergone significant cultural changes, and I am drawn to stories that remind me of a simpler time, before I started adulting. I am also deeply fascinated with history. I have delved into anthropological articles and textbooks dating back to the eighteenth century to gain a better understanding of my heritage and people. These readings have greatly influenced my own writing, allowing me to paint the vivid historical pictures that captivate me.
Set in precolonial Hausaland, this novel tells the gripping tale of a man on a relentless quest for revenge. The story resonated with me for several reasons, not the least of which was its pre-colonial setting that offered a glimpse into the past.
Ekwensi’s straightforward prose weaves a vibrant tapestry that is rich with cultural details. His portrayal of bravery, determination, and an unwavering sense of justice captivated me from the outset. Reflecting the oral traditions characteristic of Ekwensi’s writing style, the novel imparts social commentary and moral lessons in a manner that I found both entertaining and thought-provoking.
The Passport of Mallam Ilia is a love story tinged with a vengeance mission. On his quest to avenge the death of his wife, Zarah, the hero, Mallam Ilia, misses out on his entire youth.
As a Moldovan emigrant growing up in Greece, I believed that Western institutions were centers of excellent knowledge. After studying in the USA and the UK and conducting research with Muslim and Christian communities in Africa, I became aware of colonial, ethnocentric, and universalizing tendencies in gender, religion, and domestic violence studies and their application in non-western contexts. International development had historically followed a secular paradigm congruent with Western societies’ perception of religion and its role in society. My work has since sought to bridge religious beliefs with gender analysis in international development work so that the design of gender-sensitive interventions might respond better to domestic violence in traditional religious societies.
I read Nzegwu’s book after completing my PhD and it left a lingering impression on me.
Her work effectively challenged conceptualizations of gender that assumed an inherently hierarchical relationship between female and male. It also drew attention to the role of colonial laws and judicial edicts in promoting gender inequality in Nigeria’s Igbo society.
Nzegwu's discussion of the Onitsa dual-sex system that had historically embraced sexual difference but still granted women and men respective powers and responsibilities in society told a different story about gender relations in African societies prior to Western colonialism.
Nzegwu’s work echoes Oyěwùmí’s, and together they offer a window into alternative gender realities we can learn from.
When I decided to familiarize myself with eighteenth-century authors of African descent by editing their writings, I didn’t anticipate becoming their biographer. In annotating their writings, I quickly became intrigued and challenged by trying to complete the biographical equivalent of jigsaw puzzles, ones which often lack borders, as well as many pieces. How does one recover, or at least credibly speculate about, what’s missing? Even the pieces one has may be from unreliable sources. But the thrill of the hunt for, and the joy of discovering, as many pieces as possible make the challenge rewarding. My recommendations demonstrate ways others have also met the biographical challenge.
English enslavers called Ancona Robin Robin John and Little Ephraim Robin John “princes” because they were literate English-speaking members of one of two ruling African slave-trading families in present-day southeastern Nigeria.
The lives of the Johns illuminate the surprisingly complex relationships among the participants in the transatlantic slave trade, when African suppliers of enslaved Africans often had as much economic and political power as their European customers.
The English allies of the rival family captured the two men during a trade war between the families in 1767.
They were taken to the Caribbean and North America, with several escapes and recaptures, before being brought to England, where they successfully sued for their freedom. They returned to the family business in Africa.
In 1767, two "princes" of a ruling family in the port of Old Calabar, on the slave coast of Africa, were ambushed and captured by English slavers. The princes, Little Ephraim Robin John and Ancona Robin Robin John, were themselves slave traders who were betrayed by African competitors-and so began their own extraordinary odyssey of enslavement. Their story, written in their own hand, survives as a rare firsthand account of the Atlantic slave experience.
Randy J. Sparks made the remarkable discovery of the princes' correspondence and has managed to reconstruct their adventures from it. They were transported from the coast…
Grief is now an unwanted travel companion and a friend to me. At times, I find myself incapable of understanding it. Even so, it has helped me view myself through a different lens. When I wrote my book, my mother was still alive. Grief had yet to announce itself as my lifelong companion, but I was aware of its menacing presence. That amazing prescience spilled into my book. After my mother died, I discovered that there was a lot more to discover about death and grief. For months, I reviewed books on these topics for various publications. I'm still on this enlightening journey.
I admire the author's ability to write about the conflicting mesh of emotions she had to cope with after her father's unexpected demise. After losing my mother in 2021, I realized that grief isn't a linear process. Instead, it often felt like I was navigating unfamiliar terrain without a roadmap.
Adichie's memoir helped me understand that grief is a “cruel kind of education,” and we need to equip ourselves for it by having more meaningful conversations about death. Notes on Grief also encouraged me to view grief as an opportunity for self-reflection and spiritual growth.
A personal and powerful essay on loss from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the bestselling author of Americanah and Half of a Yellow Sun.
'Grief is a cruel kind of education. You learn how ungentle mourning can be, how full of anger. You learn how glib condolences can feel. You learn how much grief is about language, the failure of language and the grasping for language'
On 10 June 2020, the scholar James Nwoye Adichie died suddenly in Nigeria.
In this tender and powerful essay, expanded from the original New Yorker text, his daughter, a self-confessed daddy's girl, remembers her beloved father.…
I grew up dreaming of other worlds, both real and imagined. I’ve since had the great fortune of living in Angola, Bangladesh, Gambia, Italy, Malawi, Mozambique, Myanmar, and Tanzania—each country as fascinating to me as the next. Yet there’s so much more of the world I want to experience! This is why I love novels that immerse me in the history and culture of foreign lands. By entering the hearts and minds of characters with different life experiences than myself, I feel a sense of connection that expands my own worldview. I hope you enjoy these books as much as I have!
Exquisitely written and profoundly wise, this is one of my all-time favorite novels. Ifemulu and Obinze meet in high school, forming a deep attachment that continues into university. When political turmoil in Nigeria forces them to emigrate to separate countries, their love story comes to an unexpected halt.
As I read this book, I was moved by Ifemulu’s struggle to recapture her sense of self and stirred by the grief she felt, both for her broken relationship and for her country. Alternating between Nigeria and the USA, the novel transported me into Ifemulu’s world, making me reflect anew on questions of race, identity, and belonging.
Introducing the Collins Modern Classics, a series featuring some of the most significant books of recent times, books that shed light on the human experience - classics which will endure for generations to come.
How easy it was to lie to strangers, to create with strangers the versions of our lives we imagined.
Ifemelu and Obinze are young and in love when they depart military-ruled Nigeria. Self-assured Ifemelu heads for America. But quiet, thoughtful Obinze finds post-9/11 America closed to him, and plunges into a dangerous undocumented life in London.
Fifteen years later, they reunite in a newly democratic Nigeria,…
Like many of you, my ancestors were immigrants. Mine were Eastern European, some from villages now in Ukraine. Growing up, I heard stories of relatives fleeing the Cossacks, the pogroms, and basically getting out while the getting was good, all for the promise of a better life. Some didn’t make it—they died in gas chambers and work camps. Some didn’t survive the hardships of their new worlds. The ones who thrived were tough, worked hard…yes, some were bitter, but they all had hope. This hope, despite everything, is universal, yet very personal, which is why I’m so drawn to these refugee and immigrant stories from all over the world.
I knew nothing about this book’s author but was immediately hooked by the engaging voice of the young protagonist. I would have followed her anywhere. She led me out of Nigeria, on the run from warlords who burned her village, to a refugee detention center in the UK. Then on the loose, an undocumented young Nigerian woman searching for the one man in London who could vouch for her. What she does find is the man’s widow. And I found a story I couldn’t stop reading. Only later did I learn that the author is a man. And that he’d written the book to shine a light on the cruelty done to Nigerians in the name of oil rights, and the mistreatment of refugees in UK detention centers. Well done, Chris.
Millions of people have read, discussed, debated, cried, and cheered with Little Bee, a Nigerian refugee girl whose violent and courageous journey puts a stunning face on the worldwide refugee crisis.
“Little Bee will blow you away.” —The Washington Post
The lives of a sixteen-year-old Nigerian orphan and a well-off British woman collide in this page-turning #1 New York Times bestseller, book club favorite, and “affecting story of human triumph” (The New York Times Book Review) from Chris Cleave, author of Gold and Everyone Brave Is Forgiven.
We don’t want to tell you too much about this book. It is…
I was born in Ghana and migrated to the US, where I have spent most of my adult life. The antipathy in certain circles towards immigrants still surprises me. I have tried to address this in my own way through fiction in the hope that readers can come to see migrants as multi-dimensional people with similar hopes, dreams, and aspirations. As such, I am similarly drawn to books that address the humanity of migrants. It has always been my belief that a better understanding of those we think are different from us will help bridge our various divides. I hope my recommendations help get readers there. One book at a time.
Writing about a Nigerian family’s migration from Nigeria to the US, I appreciated Atta’s ability to masterly cover a wide range of issues without losing focus.
I was totally charmed by the remarkable way in which this novel managed to take me along on a journey that ultimately raises deep appreciation of each character’s point of view in the course of touching on issues such as interracial as well as intra-racial tensions and familial strains exacerbated in a new geographic and cultural environment.
An account of an immigrant family's struggle and the lessons learned about diversity
Writing at the height of her powers, The Bad Immigrant cements Sefi Atta’s place as one of the best storytellers of our time. Through the voice of her first male protagonist, Lukmon, Atta peels away nuanced layers to expose the realities of migration from Nigeria to the USA, such as the strains of adjustment and the stifling pressure to conform without loss of identity.
Covering a wide range of issues, including interracial and intra-racial tensions, and familial strains exacerbated in a new geographic and cultural environment, this…
