Book Spotlight

Lolá Ákínmáde Åkerström's debut novel, "In Every Mirror She's Black", offers a multi-perspective examination of contemporary Black womanhood, migration, and the pervasive structures of racism across transcontinental spaces. Åkerström establishes that the globalised Black female experience is shaped by intersecting vectors of hyper-visibility, tokenism, and systemic marginalisation, regardless of geography or socioeconomic class. The book centres three distinct women, Kemi, Brittany-Rae, and Muna, dismantling the myth of the post-racial European utopia, specifically interrogating Swedish society's relationship with diversity and asylum.

Employing a polyphonic structure and alternating between three protagonists whose lives are tethered to Jonny von Lundin, a wealthy Swedish billionaire and marketing mogul, the novel's structural convergence allows Åkerström to map out a complicated sociological matrix of race and class.

Kemi Adeyemi is a high-achieving Nigerian-American marketing executive who epitomises the "Strong Black Woman" archetype. Through Kemi, the text explores corporate tokenism and the psychological toll of the corporate glass ceiling. Despite her professional brilliance, she is subjected to microaggressions and visual fetishisation by her American boss, Connor. 

Kemi leaves a highly successful but tokenised marketing career in the U.S. after being headhunted by Jonny to serve as the Global Diversity and Inclusion Director for his firm, von Lundin Marketing, following a disastrous, racially insensitive PR disaster (the IKON campaign). Kemi views Sweden as a fresh start for her professional life and her stale romantic prospects. However, her trajectory highlights how corporate entities weaponise Black expertise for damage control and optics, as she quickly discovers her position is performative. Her creative authority is continually undercut, and she is expected to act as a human shield for institutional missteps. Romantically, she enters a genuinely supportive relationship with a Swedish man named Tobias, but her internal insecurities and the external racial dynamics of Stockholm strain her peace of mind.

Brittany-Rae Johnson is a Jamaican-American former model turned flight attendant, embodying the intersection of physical commodification and past trauma. Her narrative uncovers the predatory dynamics of the fashion industry through her past relationship with mentor, Samuel Beaufont. After meeting Jonny von Lundin in a business-class cabin, he pursues her aggressively. He becomes intensely obsessed with her, using his wealth to sweep her off her feet, lavish her with luxury, and isolate her from her support systems. His relentless pursuit of her, characterised by boundary-crossing behaviours that border on stalking, exposes the racialised desires of the white elite under the guise of romantic infatuation.

Her storyline shifts towards the dynamics of wealth, privilege, and interpersonal power. After marrying Jonny and moving to his waterfront villa, Brittany realises she has traded her autonomy for a prison. She is isolated, rejected by Jonny's aristocratic and racist parents, and instead of Jonny treating her as a partner, she is treated as a prized exotic commodity. As Jonny's mental illness and erratic, controlling behaviour escalate, Brittany finds herself trapped, especially after becoming pregnant with his heir.

Muna Saheed is an 18-year-old Somali refugee who stands in stark socioeconomic contrast to Kemi and Brittany-Rae. Muna's chapters provide a look at the European refugee crisis, institutional trauma, and the bureaucratic coldness of the Migrationsverket (Swedish Migration Agency). Having lost her mother and brother to the Mediterranean Sea, her survival is marked by grief and isolation. Stranded alone at Solsidan, an asylum centre anonymously funded by Jonny von Lundin, her immediate goal is securing a permanent residency permit (uppehållstillstånd). 

She works as a night-shift janitor cleaning the toilets of Von Lundin Marketing. After bearing witness to the tragedy of erasure when her lover and fellow asylum-seeker, Ahmed, commits self-immolation after being denied residency, Muna is left traumatised. She relocates to temporary housing in Tensta, a marginalised suburb of Stockholm, forms fragile friendships with two other Somali women, Yasmin and Khadija,  and tries to rebuild her life under the burdening weight of civic invisibility and systemic hostility. Her transition to Tensta introduces the spatial segregation inherent in the Swedish immigration system.

While the three women rarely interact as a group, their lives collide through friction-filled points of contact. In a pivotal scene, Kemi and Brittany-Rae meet at a corporate gathering. Instead of a moment of racial solidarity, the interaction dissolves into immediate judgment. Kemi dismisses Brittany as a gold-digging opportunist who sold out, while Brittany views Kemi's judgments as an elitist betrayal from a fellow "sister" who refuses to see her internal pain. 

Muna works silently in the background of Kemi's workspace. When they do cross paths, Kem, consumed by her own corporate stress, fails to truly see or advocate for Muna, highlighting the class divide that fragments the Black diaspora within the story. 

In the book's final act, Muna is walking home late at night from her cleaning shift when she is cornered and racially harassed by two intoxicated Swedish men. Defending herself, Muna pushes one of the aggressors away. He falls, strikes his head, and dies instantly. Overwhelmed by panic, the certainty that the Swedish justice system will never believe a Black refugee, and years of accumulated trauma, Muna flees to a Stockholm metro station and takes her life by jumping in front of a moving train.

A primary thematic contribution of the novel, especially during the first four chapters, is the deconstruction of Sweden's international reputation as an egalitarian, post-racial haven. Åkerström illustrates that Swedish racism is different from American racism, because it operates through Lagom (the cultural norm of blending in) and allemansrätten, resulting in passive-aggressive exclusion, tokenism, and a polite but rigid refusal to allow outsiders to ever truly become "Swedish". The author also meticulously contrasts the glossy corporate pitches of Jonny and Ingrid, who promise seamless integration, language classes, and institutional support, with the lived realities of Solsidan and Tensta. The institutional racism Muna encounters (such as police interrogators demanding to know if she was "f---ing" Ahmed, or the case workers reminding her she will never truly be "Swedish") exposes the nativist anxieties underlying the country's humanitarian facade.

The title "In Every Mirror She's Black" is a metaphor because it frequently interrogates how Black women are perceived. No matter how much money Brittany marries into, or how Kemi climbs in corporate status, or how submissive Muna tries to be to state bureaucracy, the surrounding society reduces them strictly to their race and gender. Each woman is forced to confront a distorted, external reflection projected onto them by a dominant white culture. Kemi suffers from the invisible armour forced upon her by a dating culture that rates Black women as less desirable, while simultaneously being targeted as a sexual curiosity by her boss. Brittany-Rae is explicitly told by Jamal that Jonny "collects Black women like trophies". Conversely, Muna experiences a form of civic erasure, valued only for her labour (sweeping leaves) and expected to perform mandatory gratitude ("Du borde vara tacksam") to a society that treats her presence as an administrative burden.

The book rejects the idea of a monolithic Black experience. Through its juxtaposition of a wealthy Nigerian-American executive, a Jamaican-American model, and an impoverished Somali refugee, the novel highlights how class barriers, privilege, and differing cultural backgrounds prevent natural alignment, leaving each woman isolated. 

Åkerström's prose is accessible yet psychologically incisive. She utilises internal monologue to showcase the dual consciousness of her characters, particularly Kemi, whose internal confidence alternates with romantic insecurity. The pacing of the first four chapters is brisk, driven by disruptive escalations, such as Kemi's sudden resignation from Andersen, the violent dissolution of Brittany-Rae's domestic life with Jamal following Jonny's intrusive arrival, and the horrific public suicide of Ahmed at Solsidan.

With these dramatic points used early on, the author underscores the volatile nature of her protagonists' realities. The recurring motif of the "mirror" is subtly introduced, as each woman confronts her reflection, whether literally in an aeroplane galley or metaphorically through the restrictive categories assigned to them by white-dominated institutions.

The novel concludes on a somber note as Muna's narrative ends in a heartbreaking erasure, a casualty of a system ill-equipped to handle intersecting racial and refugee trauma. Kemi is left disillusiioned by the limits of corporate diversity but more grounded in her personal boundaries, while Brittany remains legally and parentally bound to the von Lundin dynasty, plotting her emotional survival from within its walls.

The opening chapters in "Every Mirror She's Black" successfully lay the groundwork for a sociopolitical critique. Framing the narratives of the corporate executive, the model, and the refugee within the same literary ecosystem, Åkerström establishes a vital dialogue regarding the variations of the Black diaspora. The debut is a major contribution to the contemporary post-colonial and Black feminist literature, offering a corrective to Anglo-centric narratives of race by centring the unique cultural and bureaucratic lifestyle of modern Scandinavia. 

Set against the backdrop of modern-day Lagos, Adesuwa O'man Nwokedi's "The Marriage Class" (2023) is a witty and relatable exploration of contemporary relationships. The premise is deceptively simple: ten very different couples find themselves packed into a short-term pre-marital counselling course at St. Claire's church in Yaba. Forced to confront their underlying issues across a variety of weekly topics, ranging from proposal stories to money, beliefs, and expectations, the novel pulls back the curtain on the curated "happily ever afters" of the Instagram age to reveal the messy realities underneath.

The emotional anchor of the novel centres on Abi's panic as the book captures how old heartbreaks can sabotage new beginnings. Through the protagonist, Abi, Nwokedi explores the agony of being with a perfect on paper partner like Raymond, while secretly remaining trauma-bonded to a toxic ex, Lucas. The lingering pain of past betrayal creates an emotional turbulence that threatens to sink an otherwise tranquil relationship.

One of the book's most compelling dynamics is the contrast between public perception and private struggle. This is perfectly embodied by Ewa, a beauty and fashion influencer with nearly a million followers, and her fiancé, Sanya. While their trending hashtag #CheersToTheWellingtons paints a picture of romance, their real life is a stressful cycle of debt, lifestyle inflation, and the exhausting performance of staying camera-ready at the crack of dawn.

Nwokedi doesn't shy away from the less-than-romantic reasons people head down the aisle. Whether it is Boma rushing into marriage after a devastating heartbreak because the sex is explosive, Ivie forcing Eric's hands through an ultimatum, or Nkoyo utilising an unexpected pregnancy to lock down Nosa, a man who was actively trying to return to his ex, the book examines the transactional and desperate corners of modern love.

Throughout the book, Abi and Raymond's relationship suffers from emotional infedility and unresolved baggage. The novel opens with a jarring moment of friction, where, during the first icebreaker session, Abi accidentally calls her steadfast fiancé Raymond by her ex-fiancé's name. The slip of the tongue sets an immediate tone of vulnerability as it shifts the book from a standard romance into an exploration of emotional trauma. Nwokedi uses this to show how Lucas, who is now married to someone else, still holds a trauma bond over Abi's psyche. Abi spends the early chapters constantly comparing Raymond's calm, predictable love against the electrifying highs and lows she experiences with Lucas.

One of the most problematic, socio-economically charged pairings is between Ogechi, a sophisticated corporate investment banker, and Zulu, an Igbo businessman whom Lagos' high society would dismissively brand a "local man". Zulu is secure in his masculinity, as he is neither intimidated by Ogechi's high-flying career achievements nor her elite social standing. He patiently accommodates her demands, affectionately calling her Achalugo. However, the counselling class forces a confrontation when Zulu demands compromises regarding their lifestyle and future family structures, sacrifices that Ogechi is unwilling to make. Nwokedi uses them to ask: Can emotional compatibility survive a fundamental divergence in cultural and intellectual values?

Bianca's narrative introduces the reality of long-distance relationships. Trapped in years of agonising Limbo, her fiancé, Princ,e lives on another continent, leaving Bianca to face the isolation and societal judgement of an endless engagement alone in Nigeria. Unlike other toxic dynamics in the book, this arc is a case study of effective crisis communication. When Bianca gives voice to her exhausting anxieties, Prince steps into immediate action, untangling the immigration gridlocks keeping them apart to offer her true transparency and presence.

Ewa and Sanya battle financial infidelity and superficiality as Sanya is frustrated over Ewa's exorbitant "glam squad" expenses and her refusal to let him see her without her mask. Omasan and Itse's relationship issue is due to stagnation and pressure. They are a medical duo, together for 19 years, pushed to the brink by societal expectations and a sudden relocation agenda. April and Boma's relationship was doomed from the start because the clear-than-glass intellectual incompatibility was masked by physical chemistry. Boma, a self-proclaimed sapiosexual, realises his quick wit and cheesy jokes go over April's head.

A recurring micro-theme is that speaking the same language does not mean communication is happening. Nwokedi highlights scenes where AK tells Chioma she is his entire world, but due to her deep-seated insecurities, she processes his praise as a reminder of her own perceived inadequacies. Through Ewa and Sanya, the novel critiques the financial and mental toll of maintaining an online lifestyle. Ewa's entire personality is bound to her digital facade. The book exposes the exhaustion of a woman who refuses to let her future husband see her uncountoured face or bank statements, treating marriage as an extension of her personal brand. Crucially, the novel posits that a successful "Marriage Class" does not mean every couple should get married. For April and Boma, the class acts as a mirror. Nwokedi frames their eventual breakup as a mature, necessary act of mutual respect.

The author treats the flaws of her characters with grace. Even when the female leads make desperate, reckless choices in the name of love, the writing avoids moralising, allowing readers to see their own past relationship missteps reflected in the text. None of the characters is perfectly likeable, which makes them human. The dialogue is snappy, using humour and slang (like references to Oni gbese or akamu brains) that keep the prose fast-paced and engaging. Structuring the chapters around specific counselling topics allows the reader to seamlessly dive into the flashbacks of how each couple arrived at this critical juncture in their lives. The blending of English, Pidgin, and cultural colloquialism gives the book an undeniable authenticity that makes the multi-perspective narrative flow naturally.

With ten couples packed into a counselling cohort, the character roster is bloated. The volume of names makes it difficult to maintain continuity. At various points of the book, you find yourself identifying the characters by their relationship issues (the long-distance couple, the influencer couple, the cheating couple, etc.) instead of their actual names because the characters' voices blend. Because the narrative has to be divided among twenty people, certain resolutions feel slightly rushed. While couples like Ewa and Sanya get fleshed-out, satisfying redemptive arcs, other pairings are wrapped up with convenient plot pivots or sudden realisations that feel clean rather than fully earned.

Nwokedi's "The Marriage Class" reads like an addictive, high-society drama mixed with psychological insights into modern romance. It serves as a reminder that while a wedding lasts for a day, a marriage requires dismantling the expectations, egos, and ghosts we bring to the table. It forces the reader to look past the romance and analyse the relationships we build. It is a must-read for fans of contemporary African fiction and anyone fascinated by the dance of human relationships.