GOD OF MERCY

A girl with the ability to fly disrupts the pieties of those around her.

When we first meet Ijeoma, the mute hero of Nwoka’s fablelike first novel, she’s an adventurous 9-year-old in a tight-knit rural community. When she demonstrates an ability to levitate, everybody is awestruck, and, in short order, terrified. Her father, Ofodile, worries that she’s possessed and has upset the order among rival gods. That concern intensifies when Ijeoma conducts other heterodox acts: surreptitiously feeding an infant that’s been left alone in a forest, thus intervening in a ritual attempt to cleanse it of evil spirits; or consorting with an “osu,” or spiritual outcast. Soon the crisis expands beyond the community, as Ijeoma is claimed by hard-line Christian pastor Innocent, who sees her as one of a handful of blasphemers in need of imprisonment and correction. In terms of theme and conflict, as well as references to Nigerian folklore, the novel owes a debt to Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, revising that novel's message for the recent past. (Interstitial diary entries by Ijeoma are written circa 2000.) And though the novel feels overlong considering its narrow scope, it has a pair of distinctive qualities that makes Nwoka worth continued attention. First is their command of different rhetorical modes. Within Ijeoma’s family and community, the prose is rhythmic and stylish; within Innocent’s world, it’s stentorian and shaped by cold logic. Second is an earned note of optimism that highlights Ijeoma’s indomitability in the face of tragedy. Oppression and fear are constants both within Ijeoma’s family and outside her enclave, but Nwoka also suggests the possibility of escape.

A well-turned dramatization of spiritual and social culture clashes.