When I first picked up The Son of the House, I anticipated a story revolving around men or a traditional heir.
But, to my pleasant surprise, the plot centered on the harrowing experiences faced by women in a male-dominated society and the immense hardships they endure in order to survive.
Set in Enugu, Julie, a well-off woman in her seventies, and Nwabulu, a hardworking woman in her fifties from a modest background, find themselves abducted by a gang of youthful criminals who demand a hefty ransom for their release.
During their time in captivity, they open up to one another, sharing their personal stories. In an unexpected turn of events, they uncover a hidden secret that connects them in ways they could have never imagined.
One aspect that truly captivated me was the infusion of culture throughout the narrative, as I found myself deeply intrigued by the traditions and norms that were unfamiliar to me.
The inclusion of the Ibo language added an extra layer of authenticity and enriched my reading experience. I even had to look up several Ibo phrases, which further elevated my appreciation for the book.
Cheluchi poured her heart into this book, and her intense passion was evident in every page. Through her skillful storytelling, I was able to create a profound connection with Nwabulu, the protagonist, and empathize with her struggles.
From the very beginning, I felt a deep sense of kinship with her and cheered her on relentlessly until the end. Nwabulu's unwavering strength and resilience in the face of immense suffering made her a truly remarkable character.
This book addressed different themes such as domestic abuse, child slavery, loss, depression, war, trauma, second chances, sisterhood, motherhood, religion, patriarchy, and so much more.
The Son of the House is a book that will make you wonder if the girl child will ever be widely accepted as ‘enough.’
I highly recommend this book to anyone looking for a really good read.
I still think about how two strangers discovered how deeply connected they are sometimes.
