The Alternative Big Read - 100 of the most influential books

A list of books compiled in April 2003 and circulated widely on Facebook is the result of the BBC’s Big Read campaign where the British broadcasting company went around the United Kingdom in search of the Nation’s best read. Unfortunately I wasn’t polled and neither were any of my friends, obviously an oversight on the part of the BBC so having gone through their list and highlighted the 25 books which I’ve read, I decided to compile an alternative list for those of us who missed the knock on our door or whose internet might have been down when the online survey was circulated.
Feel free to comment on any additional ones that should be on the list - we can always 'bump off' some 'multiple titles' in favour of any omissions.



1. African psycho by Alain Mabanckou



2. In Search of our Mother's Gardens by Alice Walker



3. The Temple of my Familiar by Alice Walker



4. Changes by Ama Ata Aidoo



5. The devil that danced on water by Aminatta Forna



6. The Palm-Wine Drinkard by Amos Tutola



7. The Hundred Secret Sense by Amy Tan



8. The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan



9. Fruits of the Lemon by Andrea Levy



10. Small Island by Andrea Levy



11. The Pilot’s Wife by Anita Shreve



12. The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga



13. The God of small things by Arundhati Roy



14. The Beautiful Ones Are Not Yet Born by Ayi Kwei Armah



15. The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver



16. Brothers and Sisters by Bebe Moore Campbell



17. The Famished Road by Ben Okri



18. Second Class Citizen by Buchi Emecheta



19. The Joys of Motherhood by Buchi Emecheta



20. L’enfant noir (The black child) by Camara Laye



21. A distant shore by Caryl Phillips



22. Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie



23. Half of a yellow sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie



24. No longer at ease by Chinua Achebe



25. Things fall apart by Chinua Achebe



26. Graceland by Chris Abani



27. Passing Through by Colin Channer



28. Big girls don’t cry by Connie Briscoe



29. Reading the Ceiling by Dayo Forster



30. The beautiful things that heaven bears by Dinaw Mengestu



31. Some kind of black by Diran Adebayo



32. A love of my own by E. Lynn Harris



33. Breath, Eyes, Memory by Edwidge Danticat



34. Krik Krak by Edwidge Danticat



35. Prospero's Daughter by Elizabeth Nune



36. A lesson before dying by Ernest J Gaines



37. The Belly of the Atlantic by Fatou Diome



38. The Longest Memory by Fred D'aguiar



39. The Icarus Girl by Helen Oyeyemi



40. Measuring Time by Helon Habila



41. The House of Spirits by Isabelle Allende



42. In the heart of the Country by J.M. Coetzee



43. In search of satisfaction by J California Cooper



44. Lucy by Jamaica Kincaid



45. Go tell it on the mountain by James Baldwin



46. Another Country by James Baldwin



47. Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys



48. Nação Crioula (Creole) by Jose Eduardo Agualusa



49. Sozaboy by Ken Saro Wiwa



50. Like water for chocolate by Laura Esquivel



51. All the Blood Is Red by Leone Ross



52. Lady Moses by Lucinda Roy



53. Madame Fate by Marcia Douglas



54. The True History of Paradise by Margaret Cezair-Thompson



55. Aya Marguerite Abouet by Clement Oubrerie



56. So long a letter by Mariama Bâ



57. Trois femmes puissantes by Marie NDiaye



58. Unburnable by Marie-Elena John



59. Cloth Girl by Marilyn Heward Mills



60. God don’t like Ugly by Mary Monroe



61. I know why the caged bird sings by Maya Angelou



62. Rain darling by Merle Collins



63. Sleepwalking Land (Terra Sonâmbula) by Mia Couto



64. Brick Lane by Monica Ali



65. Abyssinian Chronicles by Moses Isegawa



66. Juletane by Myriam Warner-Vieyra



67. Maps for Lost Lovers by Nadeem Aslam



68. The Conservationist by Nadine Gordimer



69. The New Moon's Arms by Nalo Hopkinson



70. Memoirs of a woman doctor by Nawal El Sadaawi



71. Weep not child by Ngugi Wa Thiong'o



72. Tail of the Blue Bird by Nii Ayikwei Parkes



73. Kindred by Octavia Butler



74. Tide running by Oonya Kempadoo



75. Me Dying Trial by Patricia Powell



76. Browngirl Brownstones by Paule Marshall



77. What Looks Like Crazy … by Pearle Cleage



78. Erasure by Percival Everett



79. Mine Boy by Peter Abrahams



80. Invisible man by Ralph Ellison



81. The Swinging Bridge by Ramabai Espinet



82. Native Son by Richard Wright



83. Ruby by Rosa Guy



84. A measure of time by Rosa Guy



85. Everything good will come by Sefi Atta



86. A life elsewhere by Segun Afolabi



87. Les bouts de bois de Dieu by Sembene Ousmane



88. He drown she in the sea by Shani Mootoo



89. The Bridge of Beyond by Simone Schwartz-Bart



90. The coldest winter ever by Sister Souljah



91. Season of Migration to the North by Tayeb Salih



92. Mama by Terry McMillan



93. The Salt Eaters by Toni Cade Bambara



94. Beloved by Toni Morrison



95. Tar Baby by Toni Morrison



96. Nervous Condition by Tsitsi Dangarembga



97. Devil in a blue dress by Walter Mosley



98. The Interpreters by Wole Soyinka



99. White Teeth by Zaidie Smith



100. Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

Learning to love Ms Knowles

Beyonce Knowles is an incredibly talented, hard working, beautiful black woman and as a black woman I should be proud of her, yet its taken me years of watching countless bio documentaries on E channel to learn to love this woman.
A few months ago I started wondering if it was me. I mean if the world loves her, surely millions of people can't be wrong. Why is it so hard for me embrace her beauty and talent? Could I possibly be consumed by the 'green-eyed monster'?
My husband and probably every man I've ever dated thinks of Beyonce Knowles as their ultimate fantasy so this could have something to do with it albeit on a subconscious level. I say subconscious because I'm quite comfortable in the knowledge that he will never have the opportunity to declare his undying love for her so what's there to worry about? Nonetheless whenever I've expressed my lack of enthusiasm for her and her music, I've been met with accusations of jealousy, especially by men. I've decided to put that down to the fact that a lot of men like to imagine that women are always jealous of each other and constantly feel threatened by other pretty women. Although female rivalry exists I will readily admit, it's not nearly as widespread as the over-active imaginations of the male species would suggest. Speaking for myself, I have always been surrounded by beautiful and talented women. I love the fact that my friends are just as or even more talented and/or beautiful than me, infact call me vain but I think good looking friends compliment me. Besides I'm  mature enough to know that a fabulous personality trumps good looks any day.

So after one too many accusations of being jealous of the gorgeous Ms Knowles, I decided to do some research. I started by thinking of other female stars that I adore and whose talents and beauty I would happily praise any day. I came up with Alicia Keys, Gabrielle Union, India Arie, Jill Scott, Chrisette Michelle, Kelly Rowland, Jennifer Hudson, Traci Ellis-Ross, Angie Stone...and so the list went on and on and on. All of these women I would consider as extremely brilliant at what they do, beautiful and sexy to boot.
Determined to get to the root of the problem, I started listening to her music. I found myself arguing about the strength of her voice with a friend of mine, I had never thought of her as having a big strong voice, one that is more powerful than Alicia Keys, yet when my friend argued convincingly I decided to pay closer attention to tracks like 'Listen' from the Dreamgirls soundtrack and Dangerously in Love. I had to concede that she did have a big voice but why hadn't I noticed before? Clearly something must have clouded my judgement.
As I listened to her songs which span a solo career of seven years, it began to make sense. I could barely pick out a handful that spoke to me. I either found them too frivolous a la 'Baby Boy' , 'Green light',  'Naughty Girl' or the abysmal 'Check on it' or I just didn't think they hit the nail like 'If I were a boy' which doesn't deliver the message of a male-dominated world half as effectively as Ciara's 'Like a boy'. When I watched her videos, I saw a whole lot of gyrating and very little dancing; I remember loving Janet Jackson's choreography and being wowed by Aaliyah on videos like 'Rock the boat' and then marvelling at Ciara's incredible flexibility in the video for 'My Goodies'. Beyonce's dancing doesn't come close to any of those artists in my opinion.
Next, I thought about her sense of style which I'll admit does not reflect who I am today. Perhaps it's simply an age thing and were I in my 20s, I may want to rush out and get my hands on some 'House of Dereon' hotpants. As a women in her 30s, I am inspired by the style of the likes of India Arie, Angela Bassett and Traci Ellis Ross. I often find Beyonce 'over done', whether it's the hair or the make up or the flesh exposed. Like I said, it may simply be an age thing.
By breaking down Beyonce's music and style, I realised that the dislike or let's call it indifference came from the fact that she did not reflect my personality. Although I'm happy to dance to meaningless music, I wouldn't buy a song that didn't speak to me. I also find it hard to reconcile the smart woman in me with women who are constantly 'selling sex' by bearing flesh and playing up their female 'assets'. Mariah Carey is an example of someone who, for all her vocal range, I have zero respect for. I believe women should be empowered enough to dress however they please but I also think it's important to strike a balance. If I enter a boardroom and want a group of male colleagues to pay attention to my ideas, I will not wear a low cut top and a tight mini skirt. If female artists constantly perform in skimpy clothes and spend time either showing their cleavage or their booty then clearly they are asking their audience to focus on those 'assets' primarily and exclusively in cases where their talent is not so obvious.
That being said, I still think it's important for me to like Beyonce because for all her 'ass shaking', scandalously skimpy clothes-wearing, she is an artist of incredible talents and humility. She is constantly thankful for the opportunities that she has been given in life. She is one of the most generous artists when it comes to giving to charity, helping women, children and vulnerable members of society. She is incredibly private and does not pander to the media like so many of her peers. She takes her art very seriously and gives a 100% one hundred percent of the time. She is a performer of equal calibre to Michael Jackson; always striving to wow their fans. No amount of falling on stage or broken shoe heels will stop this woman from giving a fun-filled energetic performance. For those reasons I think she is special and deserves my admiration. I can't say I will buy her albums, or let my daughter watch her videos but she does have my respect, from one resilient, doggedly determined black woman to another.

Help! I’m surrounded by narcissists

At what point did everyone become so self-absorbed? I may have been off travelling somewhere or may have simply missed the memo that said that it was okay to talk yourself up constantly. It obviously has a lot to do with the popularity of social networking sites like Facebook and Twitter which gives everyone the false impression that other people could care less what they ate for breakfast or that they think they look good in a newly purchased designer outfit. It wouldn’t be so painful if it just happened in cyberspace but now people do it in real life, in front of me where I can’t even cringe without hurting their feelings or worse still being accused of jealousy. Oh drat! Now what’s a self-confessed self-deprecating gal to do?

You’ve probably noticed it too unless you are one of the narcissists I’m referring to in which case you were probably completely oblivious, at least up until now. Soz about that but someone has to tell you. Right? No point going through life annoying people with your constant Facebook status updates that scream look at me and how successful I am or your expertly expert CV that you update constantly on Linked-In. The thing is I do think we should all big ourselves up at times – note I say at times.

To give you an idea, I would suggest when attending a job interview and trying to impress your prospective employer. Not however when you’re already in the job and showing off to your colleagues who despise you more with every name drop and line about how good you are at x, y and z.

And yes it’s perfectly acceptable to announce good news……

1. You just got a new job….. great!
2. You just got a new dress….uh not so much.
3. You’re moving to a new city – fantastic, lucky you!
4. You just got back from your 10th work trip this year….yeah whatever!
5. You’ve just started a new relationship which looks promising….brilliant, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for you!
6. Your husband/wife just declared their undying love for you again…yawn yawn!

I hope you’re following me. I’d like to think it’s not that complicated.

I know some people by the nature of what they do – e.g. artists - have to publish their accolades and that’s fine especially if it’s not an everyday occurrence. If however you’re singing at the local nightclub for the 14th time this year then I think it’s safe to say this no longer qualifies as news, unless of course you’re inviting me to come along.

A couple of weeks ago I bumped into someone I hadn’t seen for a couple of years and after the usual pleasantries, I had to spend over two hours (stood) listening to his long list of achievements. I learnt about how much money his business was making and how he had embarked on building his own house as well as countless other very impressive projects. How he had the President on speed dial on his brand new smart phone. I even got to see the super photos ‘said’ phone takes. Admittedly I was impressed during the first 15 minutes after which I just prayed for a fire to break out in the next room so I could escape. The odd thing was that he was completely oblivious of the fact that he had not learnt a single thing about me or that he was describing himself (I would argue falsely) as something of a Super Achiever à la Bill Gates.

On a separate occasion, I was introduced to a friend of a friend’s who within five minutes of meeting her, had told me about the incredible job she just landed as the head of a department and that she was about to go on an exotic holiday to Bali no less with her new gorgeous rich boyfriend. She added that this new company was so lucky to have her because she had been head-hunted by another company and chose this particular one. To which I responded ‘That’s nice’ (and under my breath…’for you’). If it sounds like ‘sour grapes’ perhaps it is or it could just be my good ole’ fashioned upbringing which says that you should do more ‘showing’ than ‘telling’.

I love giving kudos to people for the things they do, if credit is due, I will be your biggest fan. My philosophy is simply that the more successful people there are in this world, the merrier. The majority of people I have as friends or that I meet are not in direct competition with me so wishing them failure has no bearing on my success at all, so why on earth would I?

 Granted not everyone can be like me, I confess that I am very bad at marketing myself and yes I can be overly modest but I also love receiving compliments from people. Although I don’t necessarily see my own talents (presuming of course I have some), I am grateful when other people recognise work that I’ve done as good or even exceptional and I can certainly take a compliment. I just think it feels better coming from someone else and rather than talk myself up and not deliver, I would much rather say little or nothing and let my actions speak for themselves.

On a certain level, I admire people who are so confident (I’m trying to resist saying overly) that they are constantly blowing their own trumpet. The drawback however is that more often than not when you talk yourself up so much, you don’t actually deliver. This reminds me of a conversation at a wedding this summer, a group of us around the table bemoaned the fact that we weren’t able to tick all the boxes in our respective professions, either money was good and the job wasn’t fulfilling or the job was fulfilling but the money or location wasn’t so great. A random girl (who none of us knew personally) jumped in and said “Oh I don’t have that problem, my job is brilliant and I earn really good money, it’s everything I could possibly wish for.” I don’t think any of us found this statement particularly farfetched but of course we were curious to know what she did. At this point she started backtracking with ‘Oh well you might not agree and it might seem quite boring to you actually’. Surprised by her reaction, we continued to coax her into telling us what it was she did. Her response was ‘I wish I hadn’t said anything now because you might think its silly when I tell you.’ After a few minutes of this, we gave up and concluded she was worried we’d all switch professions to hers and then try to infiltrate her organisation. It was amusing that after making such a bold statement she suddenly felt as though her value judgement may not match ours. Ironically if I were in her position, I would have been proud to say what I did even if I were a road sweeper if that is what made me happy, I may not have added the bit about earning loads of money though just incase the person next to me was the next Richard Branson. I don’t consider that stating you love your job is talking yourself up as it’s essentially about what makes you happy, and that is a very subjective thing. This is quite different from boasting about your £500k house to someone who may live in a £750k house or talking about your company’s turnover of $1 million dollars to someone whose company makes a profit of $5 million. When people talk themselves up, they don’t make subjective statements about their sense of pride in what they’ve achieved but rather objective and sweeping statements that deal with tangibles. As a result they leave themselves open to comparison with others and possible criticism when they fall short of others’ achievements.

Narcissism is a dangerous place to reside and it requires a very thick-skin because you are bound to come across someone who not only thinks they’re smarter, richer, more accomplished but is also quite vocal with it. When that does happen, the humble among us, will sit quietly in the corner with a knowing smile as we watch your over-inflated egos battling it out.

Post racial my a**

I find the expression which some American Journalists employed to describe with optimism the climate when President Barack Obama was elected into office preposterous. Call me controversial and by all means feel free to disagree but I am of the firm belief that when it comes to race relations, the more things change the more they stay the same.

It gives me no pleasure to hold that belief and took me coming back to the UK after a decade living in countries where Black people were the majority, for me to reach that conclusion. When I moved back to London two and a half years ago, I noticed that things were as they were when I had left. Most of the middle class White people I work with have no Black friends and the Black friends I socialise with have no White friends. Everyone interacts at work and oftentimes on a one to one basis but you would be hard pressed to see a crowd of people, say friends at a restaurant and find a fair representation of people from different races. Someone is always the token race….and that token friend is usually the Black person among White friends.
While I think Black people have spent a number years learning and immersing in White culture, I wonder if the lack of knowledge, understanding and appreciation for Black culture as diverse as it is, is not borne of the fact that White people do not see enough about this culture or see true representations of Black people and therefore are still uneasy about certain aspects of a culture that may still seem quite alien. I’m baffled that the question of why my hair was longer yesterday and is short today or why the texture changed when I jumped into the pool still gets asked. The Western media seems afraid to show different images of black people - ones that reflect the multiplicity of our race whether it be the darker skinned or natural haired, head wrap wearing etc. etc. - these are facets of who we are yet the majority of White people still have no clue because they are fed images of people who look like slightly tanned version of them.

When it comes to retailers- the story is the same. The images we’re sold are as close to what White people look like as possible. It may be that it is considered less threatening for us all to aspire to one beauty aesthetic. Although I have no idea why I should find an Indian woman with a earring in her nose or a Jamaican with dreadlocks threatening.

UK clothes retailer, Next for instance has a gorgeous Brazilian as their main female model, yet aside from her darker complexion, there is very little that sets her apart from the White models she appears alongside. Marks and Spencer’s the quintessentially British institution has a Black model who is light enough to not cause any raised eyebrows and wears her hair or rather a weave - straight. On every single advert that appears on television you will see scores of either light skinned or mixed race models or actors negating the existence of Black people, the majority of whom do not look like those models. So is it any wonder that someone who is a darker shade of brown with afro hair will be viewed with some trepidation. Perhaps it seems as though I exaggerate but the fact that Producers, Directors, Retailers constantly shun darker skinned, African-looking models and actors tells me a lot more than their declarations of commitment to 'diversity' ever could.

Recently I found myself combing through websites and making frantic calls in search of 'skin' coloured tights; despite living in this country for 60 plus years, retailers are still convinced that black people's skin is dark grey hence the only option most offer the dark skinned customer is 'nearly black' - think charcoal grey- tights.

Before you dismiss this problem as trivial or purely British - let me get more serious and move to Europe, France in particular where recently French perfumer, Jean Paul Guerlain described himself as 'having worked like a negro' in an interview. I presumed that meant he worked hard but in order to clear up any doubts I may have had, he added "well I don't know if negros ever work that hard". I'd be lying if I said I wasn't taken aback by this comment...I know French people tend to be blunt, tactless even....but to make such an openly racist comment with no regard for an audience that is obviously made up of not just White French people; to voice such vile ideas and to not even think twice about the disdain that the use of the word 'negre' which could also be translated as nigger depending on which dictionary you use. Guerlain’s scorn is for the same 'negres' who fought alongside the French in World War II, who have lived and worked hard in France for decades, whose countries have served the French and continue to do so.

Wow! I thought...and had to remind myself that I was indeed living in the 21st century, nearly 200 years since the abolition of slavery, and more than 40 years since the American Civil Rights movement and at least 30 years since citizens of former colonies were encouraged to migrate to France.

Just when I thought it was safe to pack my bags and emigrate to the US where things were more progressive, then came the US mid-term elections with tea-party supporters branding Obama as everything from Hitler to the Devil. Even if we dismiss them as a bunch of 'clinically insane' fanatics, we still can't discount the reprehensible nature of their words and their blatantly racist rhetoric. The tea partyers aren't simply affronted by Obama liberal politics; they are outraged by the colour of his skin coupled with his position of power. They cannot see past the fact that he is a black man in such a position and I cannot help but wonder if they would have questioned his American nationality or his wife's patriotism had they both been White. I don’t recall anyone ever accusing Bill Clinton of being unpatriotic or un-American so it would appear that rather than confront a Black President on his politics, the tendency is rather to question his right to consider himself American. The colour of his skin becomes evidence that he is; he must be in fact an outsider.
What's makes the post racial myth even more nonsensical is that the preoccupation is less with one’s actions but rather avoiding the label of being….wait for it… a Racist. The recent hoo-hah with George Bush saying that Kanye West accusing him of being a racist was the lowest point of his presidency just goes to show how ridiculous we have become. Rather than worry about his actions or lack of and regret the way victims of Hurricane Katrina were treated, Bush is more concerned about preserving the appearance of being a Non-Racist at all cost. We now live in societies where people are less worried about the nasty things they say or do, such as discriminating against people on grounds of the colour of their skin and more preoccupied with being ‘called out’. I for one will dare to call you a Racist if that is what you are – because I will judge you on your actions not the deep feelings of love and tolerance you profess to have for all race, creed and colour.

I will judge you on the things that you do and say and until those actions say otherwise I put it to you that we still live in a society that is full of racist people!

Act your age!

I once tried to explain why a friend of mine in his early 40s had never had never had a proper job - I reasoned that he had spent a number of years travelling, partying and woke up one day to find that he had turned 40. The response as you can imagine was 'You don't just wake up and find that you're 40 years old' A baffled listener added ' He had four decades to prepare for it'. Now when I think back perhaps my explanation wasn't the best but I still maintain that it is possible. The fact is the years really do creep up on you and there is nothing to prepare you for it, one minute you're 15 and thinking of your 35 year old Aunty as ancient, the next minute you're 35 and talking to a 15 year old who thinks you're ancient. Really it's a quick as that, no warning, no signs and if you have good genes your skin at 40 may be as firm as it was when you finished college, but alas you are no longer young and the worse part is that you have to adjust to it and are expected to know what to do and most importantly what not to do!
I accept that for most of us, life happens in easily identifiable stages which may be for instance the 'socially acceptable' path  of - studies-career-marriage-family. Therefore the presumption is that by the time you get married, your party days are dying a natural death so that when the sprogs pop out you're quite happy to sit in front of the telly after an exhausting day chasing after them. At this point a night out which is rare, is a quiet meal in a lovely restaurant that's not too noisy or crowded. The thought of a night club, loud music and a sweaty crowd leaves you hyperventilating.
But what happens if you opt out of the marriage and family thing, your career progression may well be the factor that reflect your years, but the reality is that life may not be remarkably different in your 30s than it was in your 20s. Perhaps there's a bigger job title and pay packet but your energy levels could still be the same, give or take a few hours of dancing. This is where I think life becomes tricky and the case for a 'Getting Older Manual' convincing.
Taking myself as a case study - I will be hitting my 'middle age' in a few years time and although I no longer want to go clubbing as much as I did in my 20s, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the occasional party. I still love to dance to songs like Passout even though I know me singing or jumping about will be met with a look of disapproval from my 11 year old neice who thinks I should act my age and not my size 6 shoe size. And yes I know at my age I'm probably not supposed to know all the words to Only Girl and have a desire to belt out a song by a girl who is more than a decade younger than me, but the truth is I do. I not only want to sing it out loud but I get the urge to twirl around and shake my head 'rave-style' too. And before you ask me to sit down and act like the grown woman I am, spare a thought for people like me whose minds are clearly out of sync with their biological age. I know that a lot of my peers once they reach a certain age whip out their foral prints and 'sensible' shoes but does that mean I have to? I mean if at 40 a woman has the body for it then why can't she rock her short shorts or harem pants? Am I still mutton dressed as lamb if I look as young as my 25 year old colleague?

The truth is we are an aging population, we're living longer and I would argue, judging from friends and family around me, looking younger for longer. Therefore life and society have to be accomodating or alternatively make it clear to us at what point we have to change the way we behave. Is it when we turn 30 or 35 or perhaps it's 40 - who knows and how is the distinction made anyway? I know many of us have sniggered at the sight of a man with a pot belly wearing ripped jeans and a so-called cool retro t-shirt but I think what makes him laughable is less his age and more the bags under his eyes and that awful pot belly. This is where I think the rule can be simplified - if your body screams middle age, then you should dress and act accordingly. If however Mother Nature has been kind to you then why not flaunt it?

It may be wise to ease up on the raves or queuing up outside a nightclub in a tight mini skirt and platforms that are bound to give you bunions but if you're invited to a house party why not go and have a blast especially now that you're 40something and the children are away at Uni. Life really should begin at 40!

For the sake of my neice I have decided to refrain from dancing to house music in public but I fully intend to shake my moneymaker in the privacy of my home with the volume on full as Choice FM plays my favourite bashment tunes.
Ask me again how I feel about 'acting young' in 5 years time; at that point I may completely grasp what is expected of me, and may take no interest in popular culture, I may even describe my children's music as noise. Although I seriously doubt it. I will however make a concerted effort not to embarass them in public. I can't promise to change my favourite dance move to a 'middle-aged side step' but you wont catch me doing the head shoulders knees and toes dance either....unless ofcourse you're visiting me at home.

Lie back and think of your friends

Over the summer there was a study carried out that found divorce among friends can be contagious; apparently the effect known as divorce clustering means that there is a 75% chance of divorce among couples whose friends have split http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/jul/04/divorce-friends-contagious-academic-study . Scary stuff and although I’m relieved to say that I cannot attest to its accuracy having witnessed a few separations in my social circle this year, I can nonetheless see how my friends’ relationship breakdowns have had an adverse effect on me and my relationship.

Perhaps this says a lot about me but I often find that if I spend time with a friend who pours her heart out about a bad relationship, the tendency is for me to empathise so much that I will pick a fight with my husband when I get home. It’s not necessarily a conscious thing, it just always seems to work out that way, and it may be because I am over-thinking all the reasons why my partner is no better than my friend’s. I may be alone in experiencing this although I doubt it. I suspect it’s simply human nature for us to empathise with other people, especially those we care about, rather than sit back and gloat (a la Chanté Moore in her song “Chante’s got a man”). Admittedly the empathy is taken to the extent of trying to find fault with our own relationships.

It probably makes sense to show concern for my friends’ well-being but there is also an indirect personal loss that you feel following a friend’s divorce or separation. For starters, there is a perceived threat to the tight-nit social circle that we cherish so much. There’s a question of who will take which side, will the newly separated couple still be invited to social events and what if they want to bring new partners? The breakdown also calls into question the strength of our own relationships and although this is a very selfish reason for feeling sad or angry when someone else is clearly going through emotional turmoil that is valid, it doesn’t make our feelings any less real. While sympathising with my friend, I simultaneously think but if it could happen to them, then it could happen to me. There were no obvious signs in their relationships, they seemed as happy as anyone else and had known their partners and been married for even longer.

On two occasions this year when the marriages of some of my friends broke down I felt saddened. I also felt very angry at their partners for giving up so easily and if I’m honest In a way I also mourned the end of the status quo although I know for a fact that change per se is not the issue. I know this because when a friend gets a new job in a different country I’m filled with excitement rather than dread. What worries me with separations is the knock on effect of divorce on everyone, their family, their children, and for many women in their 30s and older, I worry about their dating prospects. It’s a harsh reality whether we want to admit it or not. I now see the merits in the advice of older African parents which was provided he does not mistreat you physically; you should be able to work out everything else. I would extend that to as long as he doesn’t abuse you emotionally or physically then you should try and work things out if you’re both committed. In short I’m saying be practical. I know some would say that’s rich coming from someone who is happy, who did marry for love but I think I can put my hand on my heart and say that although I married for those reasons, I stay married for reasons that are far more grounded. I couldn’t say what would happen if I did fall out of love or felt unhappy but I know for a fact that feelings fluctuate. I was encouraging a male friend to settle down this summer; I started by telling him that the coup de foudre (love at first sight) was highly overrated. I gave the example of a guy I had dated who I spent the first few days not wanting to be separated from; we would stay up all night talking and making each other laugh. I was convinced that was It. Then one day I woke up and saw him in a completely different light. I don’t know what happened, I don’t understand when or how it happened but I suddenly looked at him and thought, wow aren’t you dull. It was an incredibly sobering experience because I went from ‘I can’t live without you’ to ‘I really need to get away from you’. It saddened me somewhat but I couldn’t help myself and so I moved on. I have no idea what would have happened had I given our relationship time to get back to what it was or tried to find what I saw in him in the first place. A few boyfriends later, I realised that I had to temper my excitement with a huge dose of realism and practicality especially when family and children and dare I add friends all have a stake in the success of my relationship/marriage.

The last thing you think about when agonising about whether to break up with someone who may have once been the love of your life, is what will my friends think or how will they feel? I know it may be a bit of a stretch to ask people to think this way but I do think it’s not too much to ask for people to consider those who will realistically be caught in the crossfire – the kids, the parents, the in-laws. As we acquire more, more freedom, more knowledge, more options, we also become increasingly hedonistic. We’re often unwilling to make sacrifices or compromise because we feel we’ve earned the right to put ourselves first. That’s all well and good but whatever choices you make in life, you will end up having to live with for the rest of your life so if there is a shadow of a doubt that you may wrong or simply having a moment of capriciousness, then surely you owe it to yourself and those who love you to stop and think before causing irreparable damage.

Supporting black talent or lack thereof

There was a time when I used to catch every black film that was released, and buy every book written by a writer of African origin....then came Nollywood, Tyler Perry and the likes of E. Jerome Dickey - and I decided it was time to draw the line. As time goes by and I guess I get older, more cynical and hopefully more discerning, I find that I am becoming less tolerant of mediocre work from artists, even if I do happen to share the same skin colour as them.


Recently I picked up a book called Bitter Leaf as it was being discussed at a book club that covers work from African writers, of which I hasten to add there are many exceptional ones; it has taken me four painful weeks to force myself to finish 400 pages of what I consider badly written, badly researched and extremely pretentious crap.

At the book club we discussed the book and it seemed as though most people in the room who like me were supporters of African writing and anxious no doubt to attest to an African Renaissance, were making excuses for the writer. Rather than say they didn't like her writing or found it mediocre at best, some struggled to find positive things to say and suggested that perhaps it was because we simply didn't get it. Could this be an example of Amos Tutola's Palm Wine Drinkard of the 21st century - a work that was misunderstood and ahead of its time? Could her blatant lack of regard of the cardinal rule of writing to show rather than tell be a sign that she is fully aware of the norm and chooses like Jazz music to flout it? Being a child of plain speaking, I felt then and still feel now, that it is simply a badly written book. The writer creates a so-called African setting without wanting to call it that, and jam packs each page with one cliché after the other; her characters like her setting are neither believable nor interesting. There is no depth, in fact I would go as far as to say it is the literary equivalent of 80% of Nollywood films or if I want to be generous a modern day Disney Fairytale. Yet you sense that as she writes, she is trying to impress the reader with references to languages and cultures that she has no doubt come across but which have no place in the story and render it even less authentic than it would have otherwise been had we dealt with one language, one culture and one clearly identifiable and credible story.

When I finally got to put the book down, at the back of my shelf, I decided that a break from bad black talent was in order and went to a screening of Up From the Bottoms, African American Migration to Muskegon , a documentary narrated by Cicely Tyson which was fantastic, and went some way to make up the 400 page fairytale torture. For some strange reason, however the organisers decided to show a short British film about the 'politics' of oral sex in the Black British community called Morally Speaking (get it?) on the same night. Once again I was reminded of the importance of being selective when supporting black talent. The film, albeit a short and clearly a low budget production was so badly done, I could hardly face the director who obviously felt proud enough of his work to pop in for a question and answer session afterwards. It got me wondering - who on earth are these people who call themselves artists catering for? Do they presume that other Black people are so simple-minded as to be impressed by talentless nonsense? Are we as Black people so starved that we will accept any one-dimensional work that is fed to us?

This takes me to the Tyler Perry phenomenon. Like the majority of what comes out of the Nigerian film industry, I can’t help but marvel at the number of seemingly intelligent people who support his work time and again. I've seen three Tyler Perry films and feel as though that is enough to last me a lifetime. I recognise of course that Hollywood is not known for churning out quality; and can see that for black film makers it’s a numbers game too. Get them out fast and get the money. The difference however is that a lot of smart people I know shun crap that comes out of Hollywood, in fact the intelligent world prides itself on shaming insultingly rubbish productions. We even have 'The Golden Raspberries' in case the box office figures weren't enough to tell the film makers and stars of films like Gigli and Swept Away what a terrible job they did.

Admittedly in the 80s the argument was that our films were so few and far between, our books just not getting published so when one got through, we had to show our support so more could come. But that was then, today we have countless incredible African and Diasporan writers like Helon Habila, Aminatta Forna, Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie, Petina Gappah, Nii Ayikwei Parkes, Edwidge Danticat, Andrea Levy to name but a few. As far as films go if we look beyond the obvious glossies from LA, we'll find some phenomenal works from the likes of Raoul Peck, Eric Kabera, Abderrahmane Sissako, Mama Keita, Sanaa Hamri and many many more.

Personally I think it’s high time we call out the poor excuses for artists in our community, tell them to go back and polish their talents and above all to stop taking for granted that the colour of their skin and apparent lack of competition will be enough for us to support them. I for one will continue to separate the wheat from the chaff and call out anyone who puts themselves forward as an artist, be it literary or visual because if I were in their shoes, I would expect no less from a discerning audience.