The Son of the House

The Son of the House

SHORTLISTED for the Scotiabank Giller Prize 2021 • WINNER of the Nigeria Prize for Literature 2021 • SHORTLISTED for the Chinua Achebe Prize for Nigerian Writing 2021 • WINNER of the SprinNG Women Authors Prize 2020 • WINNER of the Best International Fiction Book Award, Sharjah International Book Fair 2019 “ The Son of the House is a compelling novel about two women caught in a constricting web of tradition, class, gender, and motherhood.” ― FOREWORD REVIEWS , starred review The lives of two Nigerian women divided by class and social inequality intersect when they're kidnapped, held captive, and forced to await their fate together. In the Nigerian city of Enugu, young Nwabulu, a housemaid since the age of ten, dreams of becoming a typist as she endures her employers’ endless chores. She is tall and beautiful and in love with a rich man’s son. Educated and privileged, Julie is a modern woman. Living on her own, she is happy to collect the gold jewellery lovestruck Eugene brings her, but has no intention of becoming his second wife. When a kidnapping forces Nwabulu and Julie into a dank room years later, the two women relate the stories of their lives as they await their fate. Pulsing with vitality and intense human drama, Cheluchi Onyemelukwe-Onuobia’s debut is set against four decades of vibrant Nigeria, celebrating the resilience of women as they navigate and transform what remains a man’s world. The Son of the House is a compelling novel about two women caught in a constricting web of tradition, class, gender, and motherhood. ― Foreword Reviews, starred review Onyemelukwe-Onuobia's intimate study of the issues facing contemporary Nigeria resonates, and her masterly storytelling makes this consistently entertaining. The result is as moving as it is thought-provoking. ― Publishers Weekly The Son of the House is a powerful voice-driven novel that draws from fables and Nollywood to create a moving portrait of female friendship, diverted dreams, and heavy grief ... powerful and nuanced feminist fiction. ― Quill & Quire Descriptive and thought-provoking, with exquisite storytelling, this is the kind of literature I believe is vital for us to understand the lives of someone other than ourselves. ― United Library Services An inspiring story of two indomitable women who find ways to rise above the limitations imposed by a repressive society. ― The Miramichi Reader The Son of the House is filled with drama and loss and hope, weaving together the lives of these women who help each other navigate the patriarchal society that threatens to smother them.... Onyemelukwe-Onuobia leaves the readers with no choice but to identify with these women, to understand them and to feel their pain. It’s beautifully written and intimate; an incredible first novel and hopefully the first of many. ― City Press A powerful and intimate narrative of bravery, of overcoming personal injustice, and having the strength to face difficult truths about oneself. ― Sunday Times Onyemelukwe-Onuobia's book immerses you fully in a Nigerian culture with the words and context faithfully glued to it... If you are going to read any new book on Nigeria, this one is it. ― Brittle Paper The Son of the House draws you in slowly and keeps you wondering ... a page-turning, eye-opening, full-of-drama read with a surprise ending. ― AdviceSisters The Son of the House uncovers crucial dimensions of women’s lived experiences in postcolonial Africa. Cheluchi Onyemelukwe-Onuobia is among this generation of women writers redefining womanhood. Her work further challenges female invisibility in Africa. ― Olongo Africa Cheluchi Onyemelukwe-Onuobia is a lawyer, academic, and writer. She holds a doctorate in law from Dalhousie University and works in the areas of health, gender, and violence against women and children. Cheluchi divides her time between Lagos and Halifax. Chapter One 1972 I had been a housemaid for nearly half my life when I met Urenna. My first sojourn as a housemaid began when I was ten. That morning, before it was fully day, I went by myself on a big bus, the kind that went to Lagos. I went to live with Papa Emma and his wife. I would do little chores around the house and I would be sent to school. That was what Mama Nkemdilim told me. I was excited to go, a little apprehensive too, but I knew that anywhere would be better than living with Mama Nkemdilim after my father had died. And Lagos was the biggest city in Nigeria ― everyone knew that. Mama Nkemdilim said men who had gone from our village either married Yoruba women and never came back, or they came back smelling of money and comfort. It was no surprise that Mama Nkemdilim would send me away at the first opportunity that knocked on our door. “Amosu,” she would call me, a witch. “Why do you still hold out your hands for food?” she would ask, squeezing her face in puzzlement when I stood outside the kitchen, waiting for food. “Is all that b