Believing he can fly, ten-year-old Ephraim tragically jumps to his death from a story building. The three members of the Olorunyomi family experience this suicide differently and have to navigate through its grief.
The death in the family separates them and then brings them together. Told in the first person narrative, Happiness Is A Sickle-kinikan In My Belly is one's family's search for happiness in the face of overwhelming forces.
Written by my very good acquaintance turned brother, Happiness Is A Sickle-kinikan In My Belly follows the story of the Olorunyomi family and their nuanced perspectives. How they touch the loosened wooly strands of their sanities, tangle, and still rediscover themselves after the loss of their first child, Ephraim.
I was down with malaria while I read this book. But when the plot got a little twisty, and the suspense soared like eagles in crazy altitudes, I grabbed my jotter and penned great things I have coherently relayed on my Substack.
This book, for you seeking texts that magnify the imagined in perfect correlation with the real, will place you right in the nucleus of the mayhem. It is a classified breed that preaches SOC (Stream Of Consciousness) and its replicating meanings. Books like this are seductions in terms of rereads that get clarified as much as you are repetitive with its reading.
Loss is an unpleasant reality. And to "keep going", to "move on", as sympathetic as it seems, can be very impractical. This book answers basic questions we ask around in our minds when we see people "go nuts" due to the loss of a close sibling.
They simply are navigating the processes of grief. We all are.
I give Happiness Is A Sickle-kinikan In My Belly, a ten over ten rating but because of the perfectly harnessed themes, settings, conflicts, and resolutions. The words kept me on my toes!
