This article , was a bit of a paradox, comprehensive in some ways but highly selective in others. The insinuation that the post-liberation Zimbabwean government whimsically turned down the opportunity to buy back land 'legitimately' purchased by White farmers conveniently glosses over certain factors i.e. the Lancaster agreement masterminded by the Thatcher government that effectively shafted the post-liberation Zimbabwean government and restricted how much money they could put forward to resettle those white farmers if they did choose to buy them out.

Funds that were pledged by the previous UK administration were withdrawn so that Zimbabwean authorities would have had to cough up a substantial amount of money in foreign currency to buy out the white settlements and continue with effective redistribution. The post-liberation government capitulated to this unsatisfactory agreement due to various pressures& were lumbered with its terms for a decade. The article was also too harsh on Mbeki and unrealistic about what he could actually achieve in such a short time as a result of the talks held last year. The man is being pragmatic. Instead of merely pandering to Mugabe as the article suggested, he knows there's no point excluding him from negotiations.

Like it or not, right or wrong, Mugabe is a key player. After all, the West's approach of sanctions etc, with all its double-standards& heavy-handedness has thus far proved mostly ineffective.

Imagine This is the debut novel of one-time Radio 4 playwright Sade Adeniran.

The young author funded the publication of the book herself after several positive but non-committal responses from various publishing companies. I had the pleasure of attending the book launch of 'Imagine This' earlier this year. Adeniran's belief in her first novel was clear from her impassioned reading of excerpts. It is hard to fault her for her sense of confidence - it is a strong start to a promising literary career.

The book takes the form of a journal kept by the prodigiously articulate, assertive and oft misunderstood protagonist Lola Ogunwale. She spends her early years in foster care in Kent with her brother Adebola. Fearing that they might be taken permanently out of his care, the two are plucked from the relative comfort and affection of Aunt Sue and Uncle Eddie by their self-absorbed and emotionally distant father to live first in Lagos, Nigeria and then to be passed from uncaring relative to uncaring relative in various surrounding villages. Through Lola's diary entries addressed to her cherished confidante Jupiter, the book chronicles her transition from childhood to young adulthood- peppered with all the things that typify this difficult time in a young girl's life alongside the astounding levels of misfortune that befall her. Adeniran deals with the harshness of Lola's surroundings, the callous treatment she experiences at the hands of resentful family members with a pathos and vulnerability that makes the story instantly accessible. This is evident most in the early journal entries.

The author retains the endearing childish bewilderment of someone who cannot understand the arbitrary nature of injustice. Yet at the same time she convincingly conveys that Lola is a little girl of great social awareness who can articulate her feelings of discontent in a way that intimidates those around her.

The book raises questions of how much a person is a victim of circumstances, the choices made by those around them and the role of personal responsibility. This is embodied in the fraught relationship between Lola and her father. After his seeming neglect of Lola and her brother, which inadvertently leads to Adebola's death, only to set up house with another woman and her children Lola takes to referring to her father as 'HIM', her angry response to his betrayal and seeming indifference. Then there's the looming spectre of Lola's longing for her lost mother, whose absence is only half-explained towards the end of the book leaving the reader with more questions than answers. This seems quite deliberate on the part of the author, perhaps in an effort to avoid the book being brought to an unrealistically neat and tidy resolution. Although Lola is often perplexed as to what is going on around her Adeniran seems wary of making her a victim of self-pity. That's why it seems particularly harsh at one point in the story, when a 'friend' chastises her for what she perceived as Lola's 'put-upon-attitude'.

The book is not without moments of hope and levity - in fact it's in these areas that Adeniran's shows particularly deftness as she balances the severity of Lola's environment with the accidental humour found in the things going on around her. Lola's time at boarding school in Idogun serves as some welcome comic-relief and it was from this part of the book Adeniran chose to read at the launch, shielding the audience from the darker aspects that are more prevalent in the novel.

The latter half of the novel shows a more philosophical Lola, trying to forge ahead and retain her dignity as the difficult situation facing Nigeria in the 80s under Buhari and Babangida successively, as well as her father's reluctance to get involved emotionally or financially force her to be at the mercy of various relatives. At times Lola's musings become a bit too laboured as she quotes and repeats ad nauseum, at times barely relevant, Yoruba adages. In this respect the author's approach seems somewhat heavy-handed as she tries to highlight Lola's evolution from beleaguered but optimistic little girl to world-weary young woman. Nevertheless Adeniran redeems her debut by introducing more colourful characters in the form of Lola's college friends and love interests proving that there is more to her lead character than domestic anguish and despair.

When asked, Ms Adeniran denied that the book was autobiographical - all the more reason she should be commended for making Lola's story so credible. Imagine This does not necessarily make for thoroughly comfortable and light hearted reading but Adeniran's sensitivity and the intimate nature of the writing make for a compelling and ultimately rewarding first novel.

* Tola Ositelu is a trainee solicitor living in London.

Imagine This is published by SW Books ISBN-13: 978-0955545306 Paperback: 331pp.

* Please send comments to or comment online at http://www.pambazuka.org/

I greeted the news from a friend of Chimamanda Adichie winning the 2007 Orange Prize for Fiction for Half of a Yellow Sun with ambivalence. It was more in regards to the book than the talent of the author. I must preempt the following explanation by stating how much I admire Adichie as a writer. I think without question she is one of the most gifted and refreshing authors to come out in recent years. Her first novel Purple Hibiscus took me unawares and left me with no doubt that it was a seminal piece. It was one of those books that became a yardstick by which I measured other novels and writers. Its beauty is in its simplicity. Ask me to tell you what it’s about and it’s a stretch – in short not a lot happens. Through it’s main character Kambili, it deals with very familiar topics like domestic violence, religious zealotry and hypocrisy and coming-of-age. Here lies the genius of Purple Hibiscus. In the hands of any ordinary writer the book would have been derivative but Adichie masters the art of taking age-old issues and presenting them in a refreshing, sensitive and accessible way. Not overly reliant on elaborate imagery and with a similar prosaic narrative-voice so effectively used in Chinua Achebe’s Things fall Apart (one of Adichie’s literary heroes) her first outing managed to be at once empathetic and emotive without the reader feeling they were being manipulated to react this way.

I cannot however say the same for Half of a Yellow Sun. Having held her debut in such high esteem I could not wait to get my hands on the follow-up and pre-ordered my copy. It soon became apparent to me that what made Purple Hibiscus so special was missing in the second novel. There was a sense of self-consciousness in the writing that was not apparent in her debut, as if she wanted this to be regarded as an epic piece. The young author admitted in a recent interview with BBC Africa Beyond that there was not the same sense of expectation with ‘Purple Hibiscus’, obviously because she was a new kid on the block. This self-awareness made the book seem less sincere in parts.

‘…Yellow Sun’ ticks all the boxes of what makes a controversial and sensational novel – sex, war/violence, issues of class, badass language – and yet it lacks the soul of Purple Hibiscus. The debut did not need to resort to these plot devices to be such a worthy read. If you think this is coming from a socially conservative standpoint think again. I recently discussed the book with a friend who is not prone to prudishness by any count. To my surprise he commented the book was overly reliant on graphic scenes when he said, and I paraphrase, that he doubts any one anywhere would have been so liberal sexually even in the swinging 60s, let alone a middle class family in Nigeria. This is a country that still has a very conservative outlook on many things, as I experienced on my recent trip there.

‘…Yellow Sun’ is told from multiple viewpoints but the characters in the first novel seem a lot more 3-dimensional and easy to relate to despite the fact it is told from one perspective. Now this could be down to my own predilection for character as opposed to plot-driven stories. However the majority of people I know who have read both novels, with the exception of one, found it easier to connect with ‘Purple Hibiscus’ and an altogether better book. And whilst the first novel was short and sweet and got to the point, ‘…Yellow Sun’ seemed too long in parts and much was superfluous to the novel’s needs. Ironically I think it’s Adichie’s skill as a writer that saves ‘…Yellow sun’ from being barely-readable melodrama.

Now Adichie should be commended for tackling such a sensitive topic as the Biafran war. She has certainly achieved what I believe she set out to do in raising awareness of the war especially amongst young Nigerians of her generation, like myself. As a result of reading the book I started to take an active interest in researching the causes of the war although finding texts with a non-Biafran bias has proved difficult indeed. I don’t doubt that her desire to deal with this subject has been a long time coming. In a recent interview in the Guardian Miss Adichie reflects on how she started writing about Biafra at 16. Being of the Igbo tribe of eastern Nigeria, who suffered great loss of life prior to and as a cause of the war, she felt the need to explore this dark and seldom-discussed part of the country’s history.

Nevertheless I have my own cynical view as to why she chose such a monumental and ambitious subject matter and it is the same reason I believe the Orange Prize judges decided to award her with the prize this year. It seems little do with the actual quality of writing but more to do with literary politics. Adichie was long listed for the Man Booker Prize and short listed for the UK Orange Prize for Fiction with 'Purple...’ in 2004 but lost out on the latter to another epic novel Andrea Levy's 'Small Island' which also had a good dose of sex, war and questionable language in parts. Don’t misunderstand, ‘Small Island’ is a great novel but Levy had several books to her credit by this time. Yet even as a debut novel ‘Purple…’ was in a league of its own. But it seems that for the panels judging these book awards the more sensational the novel and ambitious the topic the better and more likely it is to win. I imagine Miss Adichie felt slighted and cheated when she did not win the prize 3 years ago – and so she should. Miss Adichie wants to win awards too and it's my estimation she feels the need to play 'the game' – hence a change of tack. But surely it takes more dexterity to write a novel that takes the simple and mundane aspects of the quotidian, makes the reader care about the protagonist(s) daily struggles without it all becoming a bit too self-indulgent. The debut novel had that quality –despite it’s ‘ordinary’ subject matter.

I cannot say I am familiar with most of the other books short-listed for this year's Orange Prize except the ‘Inheritance of Loss’ by Kiran Desai, which won the 2006 Man Booker Prize. Ms Desai has undeniable skill but I found the novel less inspired than it was acclaimed to be. Once again we find the author deals with major issues such as class conflict in post-colonial India, the repercussions of colonialism, disenchantment with the American dream, romance, cultural displacement and anything else that has plagued man since the dawn of the modern age. The novel tried to deal with so much at once I was distracted and much of the sympathy and sense of engagement that I should have had for the characters didn’t have a chance to develop. But what do I know? ‘Inheritance…’ is an epic novel and the Man Booker judges duly rewarded Ms Desai for her efforts.

The same theory could be applied to Zadie Smith. One of the most prodigious and distinctive writers of the new millennium and a personal favourite, Smith’s gift of characterisation is second to none. She is also very adept at writing books, which are not big in the way of story line but make compulsive reading nonetheless. Her characters are so believable the reader could be convinced they have always known them and that they are merely a phone call away. She won the Orange Prize 2006 for ‘On Beauty’. This too is a good book – I believe Smith is incapable of writing an unengaging read – but not necessarily her best work. Yet it has a healthy dose of sensationalism, graphic scenes and yes, ticks those all-important boxes. I also think Smith’s winning of the Orange Prize last year was to compensate for her two previous books, the iconic ‘White Teeth’ and ingenious but underrated ‘Autograph Man’ being snubbed by the prestigious award. That leads to the second reason I feel Miss Adichie won this year – a consolatory gesture for what was denied her in 2004.

Of course all of this is conjecture and without a signed confession from the judges of these awards, hard to prove. But there does appear to be a pattern forming for what it takes to win these awards – and quality of work I fear is not always the paramount consideration.

There is hope that the simple but effective novel can sometimes triumph. Diana Evans was awarded none other than the Orange Prize for New Writers in 2005 for the sublime ‘26A’. Once again this is not a book so heavy on plot and more interested in exploring the diverse personalities of the two main characters, twins Bessie and Georgia, the dynamics of their relationship with each other, their family and the big wide world around them. Not to say that there are not meaty issues addressed in the book but these are discussed and driven by way of the characters and not vice versa.

I should be ecstatic that Miss Adichie is being recognised for her indisputable gift as a writer even if I do not feel as strongly about her second book as I do about ‘Purple Hibiscus’. Still it seems a phyrric victory that ‘…Yellow Sun’ is receiving so much attention compared to her, arguably, superior debut. Perhaps Richard & Judy and the like feel obligated to laud her efforts due to the topic of the Nigerian civil war and how it’s packaged in the book as oppose to the quality of writing itself. It is my hope that Miss Adichie’s third novel will see a return of the style and magic that set ‘Purple Hibiscus’ apart.

* is a trainee solicitor living in London.

* Please send comments to [email protected] or comment online at www.pambazuka.org