GSCENE 49
PAGE’S PAGES BOOK REVIEWS BY ERIC PAGE
) OKECHUKWU NZELU THE PRIVATE JOYS OF NNENNA MALONEY (www.hachette.co.uk, £16.99). I read this in one go, it bounced along with the narrative possessing me, keeping me enthralled and entertained in equal measure. What a fun read, with some seriously contemporary takes on modern UK life. The book follows protagonist Nnenna Maloney growing up into a possibly queer woman and seeking more understanding of her Igbo-Nigerian culture and of her absent father. Her searching and wanting some insight (and answers), straining her relationships with her mother Joanie. Around these two swirl a selection of warm characters, all on their own journeys of self-expression, seeking meaning in their intersectional identities. Set in present day Manchester, which forms the backdrop for Nnenna’s adventures, this northern metropolitan voice is endlessly funny. Sharply observing the contradictions of modern urban life, sharing a delighted love of the city of Manchester, and of its weirdly adorable residents, Nzelu’s voice, original and so beautifully bold, gives us insight into Nnenna’s world as she finds some answers, but unfurling more questions on race, sexuality, class and the whys and hows of belonging. The book gives a warm, deep insight into how what you are doesn't define how you can or should be, but done with wit and some redemption along the way.
) DUSTIN LANCE BLACK MAMA'S BOY (www.johnmurraypress.co.uk, £16.99). This, a painful, honest book about being queer, poor, different and loved, is a memoir from Dustin Lance Black - famous LGBTQ+ role model, and husband of diving champion Tom Daley. The book is also a beautiful elegy to Black’s Mormon traditional mother and to all mothers, and the power of family, honesty, understanding and accepting difference, and following your own truth. An Oscar-winning screen writer (Milk) and activist, Black examines his very humble and poor rural upbringing in Texas. It’s not a narrative you hear much
of in America, with its shiny, comfy lifestyles, but Black lets us see the struggle his mother went through to support, feed and protect her family. And to accept that they were not going to
become the straight Mormon boys she was hoping for. He’s honest about his own failings, always reassuring in a memoir, and acknowledges people who have inspired, helped and supported him. His mother comes across as a working-class heroine, full of fire and social justice and unconditional love. Finding ways through their vast difference to understand and respect the choices of her family. Elevating past variance to find connection and hope. The book made me cry, touched me with its honest approach to grief, loss and the difficulties of moving on. He holds up the real angels in his life, his brother and mother, both now dead. With a
candour, which is unsentimental but tender and embracing, tells us their, and his story. Always focused slightly off himself, showing how he stands on the shoulders of his family to become the proud, strong and remarkable humble man he is today. Black’s book resonated with me, my own poor and humble start in life, and the way that some of us are so very lucky to have mothers who have fire in their hearts and light a flame in ours. Recommended.
) KIRSTY LOGAN THINGS WE SAY IN THE DARK (www.penguin.co.uk, £8.99). Oh Logan, what marrow rich prose you do. This collection of stories, all crepuscular, shaded and of the dark side, are a delight. Logan reminded me of Poppy Z Brite, utterly convincing and then a sentence turns and shocks you right off the page. The book talks to us, the author is writing it as we read it, with a collection of
side notes as we move through it. Her control of the narrative is thrilling, set against domestic moments in the Icelandic retreat where it’s being composed. From creepy supernatural stories through to modern feminist fairy tales, which could have come from Angela Carter, this collection is something special. The stories examine, from a woman's perspective, themes of life, fear, flesh and violence. Mothers, children, compromise, struggle. Logan's forensic prose peeling back the skin of dreams to reveal the rawness below. The tension in them is palpable and the words slide into your imagination, uncoiling their tendrils and sending shivers through your mind. This is horror wrought quietly effective. Dreadful men get their awful comeuppance. There is no escape here.
Her use of setting and conversation in the stories draws you on, leading you down into some dark spaces. Always in control, Logan shows us the Stygian side of imagination and then leaves us there, in the cold, dank dark, alone with this writhing book. Shudder!
