Uchenna Awoke may be debuting as a novelist, but this is an author to look out for, a novelist who understands the twists and turns of human relationships and the literal metaphors that define our lives and interactions with others.
By Chimezie Chika
At several points in Uchenna Awoke’s finely told coming-of-age novel, The Liquid Eye of a Moon (published on the 25th of June 2024 by Catapult), which explores the impact of old discriminations and their multigenerational ricocheting effect on human life, our hero, Dimkpa, seems to address the reader directly. In these moments, phrases such as “Let me tell you” and stories-within-stories make it clear that the reader is in the hands of a masterful storyteller.
Narrative set-pieces, it seems, are Awoke’s literary coup de maître. In this expansive novel about a young man’s education of the heart and mind and the rude social shock of navigating life with dreams, the Nigerian novel continues to penetrate uncharted regions of the Nigerian condition.
In The Liquid Eye of a Moon, Uchenna Awoke tells the winding story of Dimkpa’s coming of age, his travails, and his striving to better his and his family’s lot. Much of his ambitions emerged out of a childhood desire to give his late aunt a befitting burial. Before her death, Dimkpa’s late aunt had been a babysitter to him and, more than that, it became clear to everyone that he had an uncanny relationship to the aunt—a fact that was later ratified by the village’s chief priest (I am especially delighted with the attention the author pays to Igbo spirituality, though there are issues I would highlight later).
Dimkpa’s village, Oregwu, a remote settlement in Nsukka, Enugu State, appears to be trapped in time, with ancient customs still prevalent—as if suspended within a colonial period of the twentieth century—despite the encroaching modernity of the surrounding areas. This sense of primitivism not only suits the setting but also serves as a commentary on how modernity, no matter how prevalent, may not have fully penetrated certain parts of the world.
The entire story seems to run with this idea: the exerting effects that certain age-old traditions might still have in the modern world. Awoke uses the novel to expose an age-old debilitating traditional caste system that has been in place among Igbo people. Dimpka’s family are ohu, the lowest stratum in the Igbo caste system, making it evident early on that the family is constrained by forces greater than themselves, even before they have had a chance to fight for their own well-being.
Dimkpa’s father cannot find decent employment as a result of this; he cannot succeed naturally as the village head, despite being the next in line as the oldest man, because of this same ancestral constraint. His mother faces limitations in trading certain goods. One of the most striking aspects of the novel is Awoke’s vivid portrayal of the origins of poverty, capturing the raw bitterness of being poor and hopeless.
This is not to say, however, that The Liquid Eye of a Moon is entirely depressing. Far from it, it is filled with many exciting moments typical of a young man’s coming of age: discoveries, adventures, trials, and errors in Dimkpa’s journey to adulthood, all framed by his ever-present hope for success. Awoke endows Dimkpa with a sympathetic humanity that allows us to relate to situations we might not normally understand.
Our narrator is often vulnerable, impetuous, dreamy, and occasionally catatonic. As a result, the prose frequently feels like the recounting of an old dream, as though the narrator is narrating a tale that sometimes baffles him. It is easy to understand why this is, because discrimination remains one of the most mystifying of many human behaviours.
By the end, we can see how his story connects strikingly with the dreams and aspirations of every young Nigerian. For many, the driving force—whether for good or ill, sometimes leading to a life of crime—is the desperate desire to escape poverty and a background that seems to obstruct progress at every turn.
The Liquid Eye of a Moon is filled with a lot of ambition, both in terms of the humanity of the characters and in terms of the author’s structural choices. We follow Dimpka’s development from childhood to adulthood in a slowly unfurling, well-paced narrative. I am not sure why this book is being compared to J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye.
Is it a marketing strategy to get American readers interested? Apart from both being coming-of-age tales of young adults, nothing here suggests any smidgen of similarity to that American classic. The narrative voices are vastly dissimilar, as is the prose. There is none of that mercurial slangy pyrotechnics of the language of teenage angst exhibited by Holden Caulfield; our narrator here is calm, patient, and infinitely more understanding of human beings.
While this might be his first book, Awoke is a very mature novelist in complete possession of his material. As far as comparisons go, this novel owes more to Ellison’s Invisible Man and Chinua Achebe’s early novels, especially Things Fall Apart and Arrow of God.
There are certain discrepancies in The Liquid Eye of a Moon that will be noticed primarily by readers familiar with Igbo culture and tradition. The first concerns Igbo cosmology. Early in the novel, the author consistently refers to a deity named Ezenwaanyi as a “He”, which is a gendering that is simply impossible in Igbo religion, as the term “Ezenwaanyi” denotes female in all its manifestations. Another instance is where this same Ezenwaanyi deity is described as a “tiger spirit”.
I would have expected the author to know that tigers are not known to exist in the forest country where Igbos live in West Africa. In short, tigers are not found in Africa, and there is no scenario in which they would be mentioned in conversations among rural Igbos. Perhaps the author meant to refer to a leopard instead. Additionally, it should be noted that in the deplorable old caste system of the Igbo, the “ohu” class is essentially that of slaves and cannot inherit property or hold positions. It is unfortunate that such practices still persist in some locations.
Beyond these, however, The Liquid Eye of a Moon is an excellent addition to the canon of Nigerian Literature. It is a long novel, yes, but one in which its story leaves us asking questions about the nature of human desire for a sense of belonging and place. Sometimes, we will find that our place in the world is decided by factors both within and outside the places we were born. Segregation and discrimination among humans are not only intrusions on nature but essentially a destruction of the soul of those being discriminated against.
More light-heartedly, perhaps this novel could have been given another title, something along the lines of “A Tomb for Okike”—a phrase that pays homage to the powerful set-piece that opens the book. Uchenna Awoke may be debuting as a novelist, but this is an author to look out for, a novelist who understands the twists and turns of human relationships and the literal metaphors that define our lives and interactions with others.
Chimezie Chika’s short stories and essays have appeared in or forthcoming from, amongst other places, The Republic, The Shallow Tales Review, Terrain.org, Iskanchi Mag, Isele Magazine, Lolwe, Fahmidan Journal, Efiko Magazine, Dappled Things, and Afrocritik. He is the fiction editor of Ngiga Review. His interests range from culture, history, to art, literature, and the environment. You can find him on Twitter @chimeziechika1.