First published in 1977, this seminal work of African literature is as relevant today as it was then and could have been written at any time over the last 50 years. Nothing much has changed. It’s a satirical and biting look at colonialism, neo-colonialism, the African diaspora, racism, white privilege and power. It tells the story of Sissie, a young woman from Ghana, who is given a scholarship to study in Europe, and who travels to Germany and then England, sharply observing the new world around her. She contrasts that life with the one she has left behind and tries to make sense of the colonial legacy. It’s not composed as a straightforward narrative, but is a blend of lyrical prose, poetry, a letter and her reflections, which are always to the point and usually critical. It’s a book with a message rather than an engaging story but none the less powerful for that. Intelligent, perceptive and thoughtful, I very much enjoyed it, even if I couldn’t exactly relate to Sissie as a character. But I don’t think that was the point. Well worth discovering, and I’m glad to see a new edition, which I hope will bring the book to a new generation of readers.

This book was originally published in 1977 but is being republished by Faber Editions and I received a copy through Netgalley.

Shockingly because she is very accomplished and a respected intellectual, I had never heard of Ama Ata Aidoo until I read the introduction by Ayesha Harruna Attah, where she explains that Ama Ata Aidoo is widely read in Ghanaian schools, and that she was the first African woman to have her plays published when she was only 24. She later got involved in politics and kept publishing plays, poetry, novels.

This novel Our Sister Killjoy follows Sissie as she leaves Ghana, in the 1970s, at a time where journalists and students were fleeing the country, and moves to Germany, then visits London before returning. It's not a long novel but it's beautifully written - a mix of prose and poetry, something I don't normally enjoy but the poetry wasn't too lyrical and it worked well. Sissie can't have a good life in Ghana but can't settle in Germany where she stands out as a young Black woman, people staring at her openly, becomes friends with a white woman who seems fascinated by her Blackness and her identity, superficially; then in London she is shocked to see so many Black people struggling to survive and to belong in a place that doesn't want them. She finds them badly dressed, they look poor, they certainly don't look like they have found a better life. The last scene (no spoilers) shows her flying home having realised that only there she can be valued for her true worth.

I found it really beautiful and poignant to read without being corny or cliché, I loved the voice of Sissie, ironic, unsentimental, direct; the whole book was a gem.

It was an interesting book to read considering all the political context we are going through right now, I feel like the publishing of this new edition of the book is needed and I do hope it’s going to be read by a lot of people as the book is amazing.
The story follows a young Ghanaian woman that moves to Germany in the 90s, with hopes for a better life, but she is hit with racism, insulting curiosity and judgment. I feel like any immigrant can relate to it, but more or less, this story is about the political context of a person’s skin color.

I will leave you with a short passage from the book, the one that convince me to read it.

“For the rest of her life, she was to regret this moment when she was made to notice differences in human coloring”

The publication of Our Sister Killjoy by Faber&Faber is a part of their wider series of brining the classics of Black and African literature to modern British audiences. In this case, Ama Ata Aidoo's novel was first published in 1977, but has been difficult to access in the UK in the years since. The first thing that stood out to me was just how modern it feels; if it had been written by a diaspora writer today, it would have been hailed as ground-breaking, innovative and fresh in terms of both form and content (especially compared to the more commercial family saga types discussing similar issues that often get published). The book is a blend of prose narration of the story of Sissie, the eponymous 'Our Sister', a Ghanaian young woman who goes abroad on a government scholarship, poetry and polemical dialogues.

The book is divided into three neat parts. In the first one, Sissie, now in Germany, strikes a friendship (and maybe something more) with a local white housewife. In the second one, Sissie observes the lives of Black migrants in London, and in the third one, she has a heated debate with a plethora of (male) African migrants living abroad, trying to persuade them that their place is at home, not in immigration. The style, uniquely its own, has some echoes of the works of Jamaica Kincaid, which were to come later.

Ama Ata Aidoo is uncompromising. She presents a singular vision of her, and Africa's, relationship with the West, highly critical of colonialism and immigration to the West. You can agree or disagree with the specifics of her arguments, but the sheer clarity of her vision and her cutting and precise prose are undeniable. I really enjoyed the first part, because structurally it is the closest to more traditional fiction, with scenes, dialogues and characters. Sissie's relationship with Marija, the German housewife, is laid bare, but is also full of nuance. Sissie's questioning of her own sexuality and the question of what exactly does this African woman symbolise for Marija were particularly interesting to me.

Given that Ama Ata Aidoo made space for queerness in her book, it was a bit disappointing to see that she did not take it into account when discussing the ethics of immigration in Part III. I was reading this alongside A Different Hurricane by H. Nigel Thomas, a story of two gay men from St Vincent who end up back in their very homophobic motherland after living abroad, and it really made me think that such a scenario seems not to have occurred to Ama Ata Aidoo. Ultimately, her argument against immigration is based on the triumph of the collective over the individual. As someone who grappled with similar issues regarding immigration, albeit in a very different context (I was born during the most populous brain drain of my country of birth, and eventually choose to leave quite early on in life, too), I found myself siding with Sissie's opponents, as I could not see her make any space for individual agency, happiness and freedom in her arguments. At some point Sissie herself could not come up with an answer to a top rated medical scientist, who complained that his country of birth does not have the equipment for him to do his research, and that his work would be wasted if he were to be a village doctor instead of a leading researcher. I do respect Sissie's (and the author's) position, I just do not accept it for myself, and I would never try to impose it on others.

It was also interesting to see that Sissie created an opposition of migration and homecoming based on development, as that idea is completely absent in the discussions of ethics of migration from my country of birth, where all the conversations are focused on staying to resist the oppressive government, or leaving to pursue your own safety and happiness, rather than staying to assist with the development of the country. Although Sissie mentions civilian and military dictatorships as a factor in migration, they seem to be accepted in passing, akin to a natural disaster one cannot prevent, rather than a political regime one has a moral duty to resist.

It was interesting to see that Sissie, who mentioned 'Russia' and China a couple of times, still sees the world primarily as consisting of 'Africa' and 'the West'. The 1970s were a key point for the development of Communist regimes 'soft power', especially in cases of developing and non-aligned countries. There was (and still is) a dedicated university in Moscow, named after Patrice Lumumba, specifically designed to educate international students from Global Majority countries. The international student communities of the 1960s and 70s introduced thousands of Africans to the Soviet Union, and facilitated the creation of a Black community, primarily consisting of mixed race descendants of these students, in the country, then and today. Our Sister Killjoy is placed, both narratively and conceptually, firmly on one side of the Iron Curtain. It was curious to read Our Sister Killjoy in tandem with Thuan's Chinatown, a book that places its heroine in a much broader and multi-faceted world. The world of Our Sister Killjoy feels, by contrast, rather insular. I would have been interested to see what Ama Ata Aidoo would have had to say about a broader world.

I had not heard of Ana Ata Aidoo until this book came up on Netgalley, a new novel in the Faber Editions. I think this series is always interesting, and worth a look, so I requested it.

Initially it was hard to get into; it's part novel, part prose poetry, and part letter, so I found the writing style a bit disjointed. Sissi is part of a program that takes her from Ghana to Germany, then England and then back to Africa. She managed to fit a lot into a short book. I feel like I need to read it again to fully appreciate it, but I'm glad I have had the chance to do so, and pleased it will find a new audience as a part of the Faber Editions series. I will have to look out for more of her work.

*Many thanks to Netgally and the publishers for a copy in exchange for an honest opinion.*

This book is a masterpiece. It is searing, unflinching, uncomfortable, honest and absolutely incredibly written. You could spend months and months analysing the poetry and the prose, the interplay of the imagery and the beauty of the writing. The story of how Sissie travels through Europe from Africa, the people she meets, the encounters she experiences, and the issues she’s highlights are as prescient now as when the book was written. It is a lyrical exploration of racism, colonialism and imperialism and it is unflinching in its portrayal of uncomfortable truths. Absolutely spellbinding.

Wow. I have not stopped thinking about this book since I finished it a week ago. If you’re able, I highly recommend reading it in one or two sittings.

In the introduction, Ayesha Harruna Attah writes of this book: ‘I would wager that her book was ruffling the dainty feathers of her male author friends.’ If that isn’t reason enough to pick up this short yet thematically rich and essential work of art, I don’t know what is.

Our Sister Killjoy by Ama Ata Aidoo was first published in 1977, and this edition is part of the collection of ‘rediscovered gems’ from Faber & Faber. I’m so grateful to have come across this beautiful little book thanks to Faber Editions, made even more special by an introduction from Ayesha Harruna Attah that I found myself rereading and appreciating even more after finishing the novel.

From Ghana to Germany to London and back, we follow Sissie as she navigates the baffling ignorance and unchecked privilege of white Europeans, alongside the sheer shock of witnessing the realities of some from her own diaspora. Aidoo offers searing and unapologetic commentary on the duplicity of colonialism and reflections on implicit racism, both violent and veiled, all woven through sharp observations on the often unfathomable nuances of human relationships.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of this book is the way Aidoo seamlessly shifts between prose and poetry, with many of the poetic sections carrying immense power even when read in isolation. Wow.

Timeless, profound, and vital, Our Sister Killjoy is an essential read. Thank you to the Faber Editions team for bringing this gem back into the world. I can’t wait to get my hands on a physical copy to annotate, share, and revisit time and time again.

Thanks to NetGalley and Faber & Faber for the e-arc. All opinions are my own.

TWs/CWs:
Graphic: Racism and Colonisation. Moderate: Rape, Sexism, Sexual assault, and Religious bigotry. Minor: Racial slurs and Toxic relationship