“I heard what you said. I’m not the silly romantic you think. I don’t want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don’t want gemstones or gold. I have those things already. I want…a steady hand. A kind soul. I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe. I want to love, and be loved.”
“The story of a troubled eight-year-old haunted and ultimately possessed by family secrets, this spooky debut novel from a 20-year-old Nigerian-born Cambridge student is sure to garner attention for its precocity and literary self-consciousness.
The sensitive protagonist, Jessamy Harrison, born to a British father and Nigerian mother, writes haikus and reads Shakespeare, but regularly throws tantrums and avoids social interaction both at school and at home. As an intervention, her parents take her to stay with family in Nigeria for the summer. At her grandfather’s compound, she encounters TillyTilly, a mysterious girl who seems to know everything about Jess and who, Jess realizes, is not visible to anyone else. In Nigeria with TillyTilly, Jess finds a sense of belonging and intimacy for the first time, but when Jess returns to England, TillyTilly becomes less comforting and more troublesome.
In confident, heavily stylized prose, Oyeyemi illustrates Jess’s cultural dislocation, using both Nigerian and Christian imagery to evoke a sense of her unreality. As sophisticated as she is, Jess’s eight-year-old observations provide a limited lens, and at times, the novel’s fantasy element veers into young adult suspense territory. “
so i recently read somewhere that the second ari and dante book by saenz isn’t going to be the same story but from dante’s pov but a continuation from ari’s pov again.
and i was all like aw too bad but still that’s ok i love these two and i want more.
but then i was at work and i realized that means bad things can happen to them, the events of the next book are entirely unknown, and now i’m worried about my children. they could break up or fight or die or who even knows. I mean the title even sounds kinda sad “There Will Be Other Summers”. That could be a sad title. All I know is that I’m now worried about them officially for an indeterminate amount of time.