The most recommended books about Nigeria

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. 

I love Eltahawy’s approach to solving the problems of the patriarchy: She wants to teach and encourage women and girls to do all the things we’re taught not to do, specifically a series of seven dubitable “sins” that have been instilled in females for centuries.

She begins by promoting the expression of anger, which like the rest of the traits on her list is something that women have been told is harmful, unfeminine, and wrong. But Eltahawy is—admirably, inspiringly—driven to flip it on its head, thereby turning it into an asset that can be employed to improve conditions for all of us.

Veteran journalist Neuwirth challenges conventional economic thinking when he explores the global dimensions of the informal economy, worth trillions, that operates all around us yet is hidden from view.

His eye-opening depictions from Brazil to Nigeria and China ring true to anyone familiar with this economy that has its own unwritten rules, provides economic opportunities to half the world’s population, offers consumers with affordable products, and recycles waste.

He takes seriously the aspirations of the participants in this economy who interface with the formal economy, yet do not necessarily aspire to work in it.

This delightful new addition to children’s literature addresses two young cousins, both living in large cities on different continents – one (Olu) in Lagos, Nigeria, and the other (Greta) in Milan Italy – share complementary experiences and differences in their diverse settings – in their lived lives and while they are playing.

The bold, colorful, and wonderfully engaging illustrations that convey the different characters and settings are a key part of the pleasure of reading this book.

Not a situation I’d find myself in. Neither, I hope, will you. Korede’s problem in this quirky book is dark and unusual: having to protect a sister who kills her suitors.

The plot goes from unpredictable to weird. The older sister, a nurse committed to saving lives, has to choose between her code of ethics and her love for her pretty, precocious sister, who keeps killing her boyfriends.

A story this morbid, narrated with straight-faced, deadpan humour, has made this book one of my picks.

Set in the fictitious West African country of Kinjanja, the hapless exploits of an ill-fated British High Commission delegate in the wrong place at the wrong time left me exhausted from laughing out loud so hard.

It’s a sliding-door adventure thriller about the comic yet tragic downfall of a good man trying to do his best in the face of unrelenting adversity. I read it while living in Nigeria (Kinjanja is a cross between Ghana and Nigeria) and found it to be the perfect fusion of exotic location and sense of place, combined with a headlong descent into mayhem and madness.

I love thrillers set in foreign locations that give me a glimpse into other cultures, along with a big dose of mystery and intrigue. This book delivers on all fronts.

I could not put this book down. Set in Lagos, Nigeria, I loved the dual points of view of Nicole, the missing British wife of a wealthy Nigerian businessman, and her estranged aunt Claudine, who arrives from London to look for her. The sense of dread, helplessness, and desperation both women experience throughout the book is palpable and devastating, making both characters relatable and well-developed. 

This book deftly explores the complications that arise when women, especially black women, go missing in foreign countries.

By most accounts, immigrant literature deals primarily with how immigrants struggle to adapt to their adopted countries.

Its readers have come to expect stories of identity formation, of how immigrants create ethnic communities and maintain ties to countries of origin. Yet such narratives can center exceptional stories of individual success or obscure the political forces that uproot millions of people the world over.

This novel simulates the intimacy of immigrant memoir by seemingly giving readers access to his narrator’s interiority; it seems to cater to readerly expectation. And yet this is ultimately a ruse to obtain readerly investment, which Cole then redirects to the global history of forced migration and dispossession.

I love the combination of erudition and subtlety in a novel that, while ranging across three continents, allows readers to think simultaneously about dislocation across history and in our contemporary world.

This compelling and beautifully written story begins in 1968 during the Biafran civil war in Nigeria, creating a unique setting of hardship, hunger, and death afflicting the people living in the area. Ijeoma, the 11-year-old protagonist, is sent away after a life-changing event and lives in a squalid hut when a young girl from another tribe comes to stay. Despite the difficulties surrounding them, the girls fall in love and the intensity of their desire continues as they grow. I enjoyed how Okparanta writes of the naturalness of this first love and how they cared for each other. Though the girls are separated, they reunite, but face religious repression from their community, which uses the Bible against them. The girls move on with their lives and Ijeoma finds another love, but this too, suffers from cultural and religious constraints. According to Okparanta (who lives in NY), Nigeria is a very… show more.

I sometimes think of memoir as a modern genre, but the truth is that people have been writing about their own lives for thousands of years.

This 1789 account begins with Olaudah Equiano’s day-to-day life growing up in the kingdom of Benin, Africa, and then describes his crossing the Atlantic Ocean via the Middle Passage and subsequent enslavement.

When I first read this book in college, it was the beginning of my realization that the people in history were people with whom I share all the same range of emotions and motivations that comes with being human. This book instilled in me a desire to understand the people of the past.