Vivek's mother Kavita believes she has the greatest possible claim over him - he was, after all, her child, a college student living at home until the day she discovered his body on her front step. (It helps that Vivek, who dies in the novel's first sentence, periodically checks in from beyond the grave, seeming highly affectionate toward his survivors.) Ultimately, the most important tensions and competitions in Vivek Oji are not between life and death, but between different forms of love.Įmezi deftly tucks doomed romance and family drama into mystery, then, slowly but surely, reveals their true aim: to construct a portrait of love triumphant over death. Emezi deftly tucks doomed romance and family drama into mystery, then, slowly but surely, reveals their true aim: to construct a portrait of love triumphant over death. It's always impressive to see a writer transform between novels in this way, but Vivek Oji would be impressive regardless.

Where Freshwater refuses traditional storytelling, Vivek Oji adopts the form - though never the spirit - of traditional crime fiction, seeming to glory in the genre's conventions before slyly subverting them. Where Freshwater roams between countries and regions, Vivek Oji remains firmly planted in southern Nigeria. Where Freshwater is headlong, Vivek Oji is restrained. The two novels are strikingly dissimilar. So is their follow-up, The Death of Vivek Oji - but for completely different reasons.

Abandoning structure is a risky choice, but Emezi pulls it off: Freshwater is a tough book to look up from. Their propulsive writing blasts through the familiar plot beats of literary fiction. In Freshwater, Emezi prioritizes voice above all else. The writer and video artist Akwaeke Emezi, who was born in Nigeria and lives in New Orleans, burst into the literary world with their 2018 debut Freshwater, which mixes Igbo ontology, perspective-shifting narration, and fearless, swaggering prose to bring a coming-of-age tale radically alive.

The death of vivek oji book