Misfortune; Carelessness; and...: My Sister, The Serial Killer

My Sister the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite

Atlantic Fiction

Pp. 226

The novella begins, “Ayoola summons me with these words – Korede, I killed him. I had hoped I would never hear those words again.” Immediately we are in familiar but foreign territory. The structure is reminiscent of Charlotte Brontë’s, “Reader, I married him”, from Jane Eyre, but the shocking content is a lot less comforting. Originally published in Nigeria as an e-book entitled Thicker than Water, this tale of two sisters crosses genre lines from thriller to black comedy and socio-political commentary. As Richard Lea writes in their interview with the author (published at the end of the novel), “A novel that puts the relationship between two sisters at its heart, with men as supporting characters who may or may not make it to the final act, has been greeted as a riposte to crime fiction where the plot is so often set in motion by the gruesome death of young women.”

It clearly strikes a chord as it won the 2019 Los Angeles Times Book Prize for Best Mystery/ Thriller, the 2020 British Book Award for Crime & Thriller Book of the Year, and it was longlisted for the 2019 Booker Prize. As well as being critically praised, it is also popular with the public, and won the 2019 Amazon Publishing Reader’s Award for Best Debut Novel. It is certainly easy to read with short chapters (all with a one or two word title) and a fairly universal theme – we may not all have murderous siblings, but many of us understand sibling rivalry and family dynamics.

As the oldest, Korede is obliged to care for her younger sister, Ayoola, and now, she literally cleans up her sister’s messes. It doesn’t help Korede’s mental state to feel that her sister is outstandingly good-looking, and to constantly compare herself unfavourably. “The resemblance is there – we share the same mouth, the same eyes – but Ayoola looks like a Bratz doll and I resemble a voodoo figurine.”

Ayoola carries a knife on dates and she seems to have little compunction in disposing of her suitors, she claims in self-defence. Korede wants to believe her, but there is a touch of the Oscar Wilde loss of parents about her narrative; after all, she has killed three people; “Three, and they label you a serial killer”. Ayoola is seemingly remorseless and is back partying and posting on Instagram and Snapchat straight after she has killed her partner. She apparently believes that she is entirely innocent: “Her actions were the fault of her victims and she had acted as any reasonable gorgeous person would under the circumstances.” The implication is that she is excused because of her looks – it’s different if you’re beautiful.

When Ayoola shows interest in the doctor with whom Korede works, he of course reciprocates it, despite never having noticed Korede’s passionate feelings towards him. This might inform her questioning her sister’s version of events, at which Ayoola accuses her of victim shaming. “Victim? Is it mere coincidence that Ayoola has never had a mark on her, from any of these incidents with these men; not even a bruise?” At a time when we are struggling to believe women, this seems irresponsible, but education is not the duty of the author. Indeed, in her interview, Braithwaite contends, “I like to have fun. The books where I can tell I’m being taught something are a trial in the reading. If there’s a story and you learn something along the way; it’s a bonus.”

It transpires that the girls’ father subjected them to traditional and tribal cruelty, and Korede is concerned that Ayoola may have inherited some of this inherent brutality. “More and more, she reminds me of him. He could do a bad thing and behave like a model citizen right after. As though the bad thing had never happened. Is it in the blood? But his blood is my blood and my blood is hers.”

There are some things which may seem a little far-fetched for a genuine crime thriller – how could they possibly not get caught? One explanation is that the police force is highly corrupt, as are many other institutions in Nigeria, and they can be bribed to look away. Another consideration is that this is not meant to be forensically accurate. The page numbers are in a font that looks as though letters have been cut from newspaper print, or perhaps a graphic novel where all the information is condensed into one frame. It is currently being considered for film, which will be dramatic but not exactly realistic.

Oyinkan Braithwaite has provided us with a fast-paced, high-actioned, black-comedy crime thriller. It covers a lot of genres and is a terrific story. It seems churlish to expect more from her and we should be grateful for this offering and the knowledge that there are authors who can still deliver a gripping novel.

Photogenics: Sometimes the Camera Does Lie

I know it is hugely controversial to suggest this, but excessive data surveillance may not be an entirely bad thing. Having realised that our Kiwi passports run out early in the New Year, we were very pleased to discover that we could renew them on-line. This is probably due to the fact that the New Zealand Immigration Department can find out anything they need to about us, from the fact that we pay our taxes to the books we check out of the library. Really, this doesn’t bother me. I am not ashamed to read young adult fiction or to vote for Libby Trickett on Dancing with the Stars.

Most happily of all, however, is the fact that one can now take one’s own photo – or rather, get one’s partner to do it in the kitchen – I’m not part of the selfie generation. Incidentally, is it just me (I know it isn’t) or does the word ‘selfie’ conjure up unwanted images of onanism? (I would recommend looking that up in an old-fashioned dictionary rather than googling it.) As long as it is the right size, you’ve got your eyes open and no encroaching shadows or blurriness, it should be accepted. You no longer have to go to those ‘special places’ (post offices or photo booths) and get them done, then take them to a judge or a veterinary surgeon who you have known since birth so that they can swear that it is a genuine likeness of you and all that.

Except, it is unlikely to be a genuine likeness, because you are still not allowed to smile. Now, admittedly, when I come off a long haul flight during which some demon spawn has been howling and battering the back of my seat for the past 36 hours, I’m not generally laughing and joking and distributing bonhomie to all and sundry. But smiling, at least a little, is my general default setting – especially when meeting new people, even if they are customs officers.

When I am not permitted to smile (i.e. in passport photos) Him Outdoors says I look like Myra Hindley, which is somewhat unfair, and also, I suspect, not conducive to ease of entry at passport control. I think I, like almost everyone, look better when smiling and animated. Some people look good in pictures, and these are people who are considered to be photogenic. Let’s take this to mean that they are bland and two-dimensional in real life.

Some of the most beautiful contemporary women – Kate Winslett; Toni Colette; Meryl Streep; Natalie Portman; Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge – can look almost ugly in photographs. I believe this is because they are known for their animation, warmth and fun-loving personalities. Sitting still and posing isn’t their forte, and neither should it be. The more lively, energetic and vibrant you are, the more likely you are to be unphotogenic.

Once you think you are unphotogenic, it is doubtful that you are going to relax when anyone is around with a camera. You will probably have a lot of pictures of you gurning, looking away or holding your arms in awkward positions as you try to block the shot. None of these are going to be pretty, and that can only make the situation worse. Some of my favourite pictures of me are from my wedding when I was having such a great day and was so happy that I didn’t really care what I looked like. I relaxed.

Also, we had a fabulous photographer (Dennis Orchard) who was twice UK wedding photographer of the year. My other favourite photo of me, which I use for head shots at theatrical enterprises, was taken by a friend and professional photographer (Dan Childs) who has a wonderful manner and delightful way of putting camera-shy people at their ease. And this is a major point – cameras these days are ubiquitous, and they are often really good quality. But just because everyone has a camera on their phone, it doesn’t make them a photographer. Photographers understand light, angles, focus, composition and settings. And they also understand people and their feelings and anxieties. So often people are ready to blame themselves for being a bad subject, but they rarely blame the person on the other side of the lens – it takes two to photo!

Research I have read on these matters claims that symmetrical features make beautiful people who make good images. This means that no one who plays ball sports or fell out of a tree as a child is apt to look their best in photographs. I’m not really saying that every photogenic person is plain in real life, but I am saying that most exuberant, expressive, and adventurous types are probably going to be unphotogenic. This includes most of my friends, and I love you all. Here’s to falling out of trees and laughing about it, even if it means the camera is unkind!

Cartoon female perfection

"Celebrated beauties such as Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Miranda Kerr and Keira Knightley don't look alike - but there are some common defining features: small face, huge eyes, pointy chins, full lips, flawless skin, little noses. They look like they don't age. That, coupled with super-skinny bodies, makes them look almost virtual - like anime characters." - Dr Jane Park, Senior Lecturer at the University of Sydney

Dr Jane Park is researching the burgeoning cosmetic surgery industry in Korea. Does anyone else find it worrying that the ideal for female beauty is a childish cartoon drawing? Why can't we teach girls (and women) to admire fit and healthy-looking adults?