I got attracted to this book because the first page I opened the author mentions Candomblé and Brazil. It turns out it was the ONLY part in the book these were mentioned. Nevermind the book was alright. It made me think about writing things that are not in my life, give a life to a character that I wish was mine life, or live a life that is not mine for a moment, and control that life, just a thought.
This is the part I most sympathised in the book:
I think of cousins and wonder what it might be to reconnect with them, to live nearby. I've even contemplated living closer to Caesar, not because I miss him, particularly, but because we share memories of people and places that few others now remember. But even as I find myself searching the Internet for homes in Ikyi, I know that I'm not likely to feel at home in such crowded city. I remember how it floods during rainy season. I remember the power cuts and the unruly traffic, and I remember how few bookshops there are, how few cafe and museums. Deep down, I know that my desire to return comes more from nostalgia than a genuine longing to return. Those days of being able to deal with the daily headaches of Lagos (I read Sao Paulo) life are gone. In any case it's to Jos (I read Santos), the city of my childhood, that I'd most like to return. But this is even more implausible. Jos/ Santos used to be a place of serenity, of cool, plateau weather, not the anxious city it is today with the constant fears of random acts of violence. [...] all that really remains are the memories. (page 5)
(Guildford library)
