Cover: Leo Nickolls
‘I have to tell you plain-plain, my corner of the world is an inside-out, upside -down, twist-in-time place where strange things happen.’ (p 14)
Speaking of Ghana
One of the very finest writers to have emerged in the last few years is Yaba Badoe. She has also added wonderfully to the diversity of books and the promotion of black heritage. Her first two books are outstanding, well worth seeking out by any who have not yet read them. However, there seems to be a widely held view that her third, Lionheart Girl is her finest yet and this is an opionion I fully support.
One of the first things to strike me about this book is that the language is ravishing, musical. Its vocabulary and syntax, its cadences, are colloquially Ghanaian enough to evoke a different place and culture without feeling forced or obtrusive. The rhythm and the heat of both the story and its telling are deeply evocative of West Africa. They beat so much with its heart, that they take us there, mind and body. Yet whilst the location is beautifully painted, this is a story of inscape as much as landscape, magic as much as superficial reality.
The magic of place
Amidst all the current devastatingly authentic tales of abuse, of displacement, of slavery, refugees and the victims of discrimination - tales we very much need to hear - Yaba Badoe’s is rather different. Hers is a story where real human lives meet poetry and magic. But this is not the magic of Europe, not wizards and dragons, but the magic of second sight and possession, of the ghosts of ancestors and of spirit animals - the magic of Africa. This is a tale of heritage, the heritage of place, of myth, of the spirit as much as of the body. I suppose, in one sense, its deep rooting in African myth is a broad equivalent of those white children’s stories drawing on Celtic legend and magic. And it makes a compelling story, one in which the young and black can connect with their their mythic roots, but also one that is deeply powerful, mesmerising, for all readers. At heart it is not only archetypically West African, but archetypically human.
Adinkra gold, literary gold
This would be a family drama, except that the family at its heart is one of female ‘witches’, in the African magic sense. Instead, it is one explored and expressed through the other. Protagonist, Sheba has a close relationship with her female relatives, especially her grandmother, and all these characters are drawn with wonderful richness and sensitivity. This is extended into her relationship with the boy who becomes her ‘long time friend’, a boy with the unusual name, Maybe. Yet at the dark heart of Sheba’s family, is a pervasive ‘evil’ presence. As she comes into her own power, will Sheba find the strength to drive out the malevolent presence of her own mother? Internal monologue though it is, Lionheart Girl is every bit as gripping as any action adventure. However, the vital message at the heart of this complex, sophisticated book is relatively simple: ‘Great -grandchild of mine, you can become a champion of our family, our village. . . . You have it in you.’ (p 163)
‘The best kind of magic (says Sheba) is belief in myself and my ancestors.’ (p 113) She is not wrong. Probably for older children and upwards, this is a lionhearted book (in a spiritual sense) and not to be missed. It will evoke deeper identity for readers whose heritage it is, and a new vista of empathetic understanding if that heritage is not directly theirs.
