100 books like Imaro

Tarisai was born with a wish in her heart, but not her wish. Her mother wants to use her to harm an old enemy, and Tarisai has no choice but to go along with it.

But as she finds her own found-family out in the world, she learns that there are some things more powerful than wishes. Her mother’s wish can only have so much power over her when she fights against her mother’s desires for her life. And Tarisai is stronger than she’s ever believed, which was an incredible twist to the plot.

I loved seeing Tarisai come into her own, while figuring out that she can control the shape of her future. 

Let’s start from the beginning, why don’t we? Any list of fantasy by authors of African descent would, in my opinion, be incomplete without the inclusion of the original oral tales of fantastic beings and events that sparked our imaginations.

Ògbójú Ọdẹ nínú Igbó Irúnmọlẹ̀, the Yoruba-language novel (published in 1938, and translated by Wole Soyinka in 2013 to become Forest of a Thousand Daemons) features the hallmarks of what we’ve come to love in contemporary fantasy: monsters and battles, spellbinders and royalty, warriors and heroes, all presented like the campfire tale that it is.

I remember reading this and immediately regretting that I couldn’t experience it for the first time again. It’s that exhilarating.

The warrior’s quest has been a staple of African legends for as long as Africans have told stories.

It’s no surprise that the quest is also a staple of modern epic fantasy storytelling, and that Rwizi, inspired by kingdoms south of the continent, offers us this in his Scarlet Odyssey series. But only after reading it will you realise, like I did, that Rwizi also subverts the quest, turning over everything it has stood for by presenting us with a man who refuses to become a warrior but agrees to embark on a quest anyway.

A band of outcasts going on a treacherous journey to obtain something that will save their people? Take my money already. 

If you seek more quests, you will find another exciting one in Utomi’s Forever Desert series, beginning with the novella about the Ajungo Empire.

However, to describe this story simply as a quest (for water, no less) would do no justice to the complex, exciting work Utomi does in borrowing not only from desert empires of the Sahara, but also from popular media (as the Mad Max-esque romp through the desertscape and anime-inspired battles demonstrate).

This novella is a testament to the breadth of manner and shape that Africa-inspired epic fantasy tales can take. Long may it continue.

Junger wrote War, about Afghanistan. But as I found the West Point rugby players’ stories wouldn’t leave me alone, so Junger stayed with those he found in Kunar province.

In Tribe, he considers the ties that bind – notably a focus on the “energy of male conflict and male closeness”. Junger “once asked a combat vet if he’d rather have an enemy or another close friend”. The vet looked at Junger like he was crazy. “‘Oh, an enemy, 100%,’ he said. ‘I’ve already got a lot of friends.’

He thought about it a little longer. ‘Anyway, all my best friends I’ve gotten into fights with – knock-down, drag-out fights. Granted we were always drunk, but think about that.’ He shook his head as if even he couldn’t believe it.”

The Mongols only form one part of Nomads in the Middle East which paints on a far broader canvas, looking at the long-term history of relations between nomads and agricultural societies in the Middle East.  Spanning from the seventh century all the way up to the modern era, and discussing peoples as diverse as the Bedouin, the Seljuk Turks, and of course the Mongols, Beatrice Forbes Manz provides an incredible overview of the role played by nomadic societies in shaping this region. For those interested in the Mongols, this book helps us to take a step back and a take panoramic view of their actions within a much longer timeline. 

In Dragaera, the fortunes of the seventeen Great Houses are determined by the Cycle, which elevates royalty, merchants, artisans, wizards, the mob, and even peasants as it turns.

The Cycle takes thousands of years to turn… but Dragaerans live thousands of years. Easterners, like Vlad Taltos, are lucky to see a hundred, and they can’t be members of the Great Houses. Except the House of the Jhereg, which sells titles.

They’re the mob; and Vlad, Baronet of Taltos, is an assassin. JHEREG and its many sequels are constantly exploring the social dynamics underlying this situation; as an Easterner with a bought title, Vlad doesn’t fit in with either Easterners or Dragaeran nobles, and choosing sides can mean destroying relationships or putting his life on the line.

A novel that reads like a reportage, almost a documentary, on contemporary (the Nineties) life in Kenya for the small and influential (but not rich) community of “white Kenyans”: some native of Kenya, some adoptive sons and daughters of the country that invented the safari a century ago and that is the main hub for all news organizations in the continent. So, reporters, conservationists, dreamers, adventures, misfits, eccentrics populate this hugely evocative and partially autobiographical book that has some of the best “sound bites” on the question we are often asked: Why You Love Africa?

This book provides a detailed and trenchant analysis of how African novels have sought ways of reflecting and resisting the destruction wrought by colonial occupations and neo-colonial extractive capitalism. This analysis thoughtfully includes ‘nonhuman life’ and the need to ‘redefine our notion of personhood to include other beings that we do not normally ascribe to this (yet with whom our ecological history remains deeply entangled).’ Iheka also points out how Africa has ostensibly been demarcated as a ‘sacrifice zone’ by other major global powers (many of who benefited from the colonial enterprise) and how African fiction attempts to decentre narrative perceptions from the Global (and anthropomorphic) North. I enjoyed the subtle and inclusive approach of the author, who emphasised the porous nature of borders and the ethical need to reengage with what it means to be human as a way of finding our way out of a ‘slow apocalypse.’ 

The Hand on my Scalpel was interesting and amusing to read. Dr. Thompson gave a first-hand account of his work in Africa as a surgeon. He is an excellent writer who was able to relate his life and challenges in Africa with vivid clarity and descriptions. I was able to envision each scene as if I were there.