Nnedi Okorafor’s work spans genres, moods, and worlds. Okoraforhas receivedmany accolades: in 2011 her novel Who Fears Death won the World Fantasy Award, and in 2016, her novella Binti won both the Nebula and Hugo Awards. Binti’s sequel, Binti: Home,has just been published by Tor.com. While this is the first time we have had the chance to consider Nnedi Okorafor formally here at the Weird Fiction Review, her words and ideas has been no stranger to our thoughts and discussions over the last few years. We were able to ask Okorafor afew questions about her recent work, Amos Tutuola, NecronomiCon 2017, and her work writing and teaching in contemporary America.[i]
Weird Fiction Review / Schenstead-Harris: Thankyou for agreeing to this interview. It is athrilling chance for us at Weird Fiction Review to have access to your thoughts, and we appreciate your generosity in these busytimes.
I’ve recently had the opportunity to read Binti, Binti: Home, and Lagoon back to back, and Iwas struck by the way in which you narrate relationships between humans and different kinds of life. Can Iask right from the start about the jellyfish from the United Arab Emirates? That is abeautiful dedication. Is there astory there?
Photo by Nnedi Okorafor
Nnedi Okorafor: There’s always astory. Everything Iwrite is connected in some way to my own life. Binti has many beginnings. Iwas writing this novella series before Iknew Iwas writing it. One of those beginnings was in the UAE. My trip there with my daughter was the first of many…adventures. Ihad three book festival/events in arow on three continents within 12days. Icome from avery tight knit Nigerian American family. All of my immediate family is in the Chicago area. When Itold them Iwas taking my then ten-year-old daughter with my on a12day trip that jumped from Brasilia, Brazil, to Atlanta, Georgia (North America) to Sharjah, the United Arab Emirates, everyone freaked out. In the end, Ihad to sneak to the airport with her and call them just before the plane took off (yes, Ifelt horribly guilty).
This trip turned out to be one of the greatest adventures, ever (so far). But by the time Iarrived in the UAE with Anya, Iwas changed. When you jump from aplace like Brazil where people are very free with their bodies to the Middle East, where everyone is covered up, and in between you spend time with ahuge group of Octavia Butler scholars and fans at ahistorical African American college (Spelman College) doing areading in aroom full of Hoodoo, you can’t help but be affected. From aPortuguese speaking country, to an English speaking one, to aArabic speaking one. This was my state of mind when Iwas walking around the Khalid Lagoon with Anya beneath the 100-degree Middle Eastern sun.
All around me was the futuristic, but still deeply ancient city of Sharjah. Istepped up to the water and looked down. And there, pumping away like it had very important things to do, was the very first live jellyfish I’d ever seen in the wild (I’d seen aman-o-war in Trinidad, but it was dead). It was blue, strong, alien and in my state of mind at the time, utterly beautiful.
In that moment, Iknew I’d write aboutit.
WFR: Binti’s hair, or her tentacle-like okuoko almost becomes acharacter in its own right. It’s striking that this kind of physical transformation is both by choice but also not by choice; it reflects the physical difference with whichBinti already marks herself through her otji*ze. There are so many layers of cultural and biological meaning wrapped up in Binti’s hair alone. Can you talk alittle about this part of thestory?
NO: The theme of choice and the power of culture pops up in my stories often. Before Binti, the biggest example of this is in Who Fears Death when Onyesonwu must face the decision of whether or not to go through aceremony that required cutting off her cl*tor*s. To many readers, the fact that she even has to think about whether or not to do this is shocking. It’s not shocking to me at all, coming from the culture that Icome from where the individual is often secondary to the community. Imay have been born and raised in the United States, but there are significant parts of me that are VERY Igbo (Nigerian) and Iam often in conflict with these parts. This is the plight of many Nigerian Americans. And this is the root of my deep understanding about and experience of African cultures.
The same goes for Binti. Binti is aHimba girl of the future and though many things about her ethnic group change, some things stay the same. Some of those things include astrict adherence to community and culture, and the practice of applying otji*ze. Culture is very deep, it can’t just be shed just as you can’t shed what is part of your DNA. But culture is also alive and can incorporate things, it blend, shifts…and there are always consequences to change.
WFR: The University is apowerful society in Binti but also in our world. What does it mean for you to be an academic as well as awriter? Have your experiences in academia informed Binti?
NO: Ihave abachelor’s, two master’s and aPhD. I’ve been afull-time professor since 2008 and have just gone from “associate” to “full-professor” status. Before this, Iwas agraduate student instructor. The university has been apart of my life for over half my life, now. Being the type of writer whose life constantly blends with her stories, the university is bound to be asignificant part of mywork.
What Ilove about academia is you get to be around super-smart, inquisitive, argumentative, observant, obsessed people. Students in universities have dedicated years of their life to the pursuit of learning. Professors have dedicated their lives to research and teaching. It’s inspiring to be in this type of environment. At auniversity, sometimes you can just glance into aroom you are passing by and see or hear something mind-blowing. The libraries are full of mysteries. People from all over the world come to universities to learn. And universities attract brilliant minds and are often places where resistance to the problems of the world are spawned.
I’m able to channel alot of this into Oomza University layered with my own ideas of what it is to be non-human and human. Oomza University is not just ametaphor for auniversity. It’s truly me trying to imagine auniversity of People (by “People” Imean sentient individuals from all over the galaxy).
WFR: Binti constantly has to face questions about cultural transformation, rather like Onyesonwu in Who Fears Death. Both characters experience the difficulties of young women placed in what sometimes seem like impossible situations where familial values conflict with the knowledge of other kinds of cultural knowledge; you narrate such cultural aporias with agreat deal of subtlety. Are there difficult topics that you’d like to address in asimilar manner but which just haven’t taken narrative shapeyet?
NO: I’ve grown bold in facing things that Ifear…in literature, at least. So Ican’t think of any topic that Iam avoiding. However, there are some things I’m currently writing about where Ican feel my discomfort and yet Istill barrel forth. Some of those are in Binti 3.
WFR: In the past, I’ve taught Who Fears Death along with K. Sello Duiker’s Thirteen Cents to conclude acourse in postcolonial and diasporic contemporary African literature. Ialso know people who have taught Akata Witch. Which of your novels would you like to see taught most — and what would you pair itwith?
NO: Honestly, Ithink all my novels are “university ready”. Each of them are thematically complex in ways where professors can easily connect them to the past, present and the future. The Binti novellas work well in classes because they are one story sectioned off naturally in away that is easy for professors to assign, plus they are relatively inexpensive. Akata Witch is afun read but also agreat way to discuss African spirituality, colonialism and the push pull between Africans and African Americans. The Book of Phoenix is agreat way to discuss the African Diaspora, identity, the very form of literature, colonialism, Henrietta Lacks, so much! The same with Who Fears Death. Kabu Kabu is acollection of short stories that would be great for acreative writing class because the stories are all so diverse and use so many different storytelling techniques.
If Ihad to choose one, I’d chose Lagoon and pair it with Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. Both are First Contact/ Alien Invasion narratives. And both are directly connected to our world. Plus, Lagoon has so many real world references aprofessor could show the class (for example, the Youtube video on “witch slapping” and articles about how the Nigerian president really was missing in 2009) that students will be intrigued and disturbed…which is much better thanbored.
WFR: Can we talk about your relationship with Amos Tutuola’s work? Still on the subject of Who Fears Death: in that novel, you invoke Tutuola’s Palm Wine Drinkard as part of the “Great Book” that characters know speaks of earlier times, and in The Book of Phoenix there’s abrief mention of palm wine tapping too among the fleshing out of the origin story provided by the Great Book. You’ve also spoken in praise of Don’t Pay Bad for Bad. Here at WFR, we emphasize the compelling strangeness of Tutuola’s work — we love its thrilling weirdness. Personally, I’ve always been struck by how Tutuola’s narrative structures unfold with this gorgeous simplicity, as if their emotional intricacy was plotted against adirect appeal to their reader. How would you characterize Tutuola’s legacy to writers today? And, turning to readers, if people have already encountered Palm Wine Drinkard, which books would you advise that they readnext?
NO: Ireally enjoyed The Palm Wine Drinkard, though Idon’t like the way it’s written. Idon’t see it as astyle, Isee it as Tutualo’s English not being strong (it wasn’t his first language) and him needing an editor. Iwonder about the intent behind not cleaning up and unravelling the prose, especially at the time. I’m just going to be up front with that, and Iknow that many will disagree with me. Whole essays have been written on this issue. But this is my own opinion on the matter.
Tutuola was one of the first Nigerian fantasy writers. D.O. fa*gunwa was another, he wrote Forest of aThousand Daemons, which was translated by Wole Soyinka. Both men were translating Yoruba folktales into prose, they were fleshing out thin yet potent stories and Iloved that about them and Iwanted to pay homage to that in my own work. After The Palm Wine Drinkard, I’d recommend Pauper, Brawler and Slanderer. Ireally enjoyed thatone.
WFR: You’re aguest of honour at this year’s NecronomiCon, acelebration of weird fiction. What does that position mean to you? Do you think that the definition of whose work “counts” in weird fiction is changing?
NO: When Igot the invitation, I’ll admit, Ipaused. Ipaused for along long time. Iasked people in my inner circle about it and Ihad mixed reactions. Some said, “Hell no. They’re just going to set upon you when you arrive. Decline!” Other said, “Sounds intriguing, why not?!” Ipersonally say it as sort of an olive branch after all that has happened around the issue of Lovecraft. The invitation was really heart felt and Iremember it giving me the warm fuzzies, so that played abig, role, too. I’m always ready to make peace and connect with those with whom I’ve had some sort of disagreement or misunderstanding. That’s the Binti inme.
Do Ithink the definition of weird fiction is changing? Ileave such things up to others. Idon’t really spend time contemplating what things are called. Iprefer to spend time creating things.
WFR: It’s difficult to talk about something called “Necronomicon” without thinking about Lovecraft. In 2011, after winning the World Fantasy Award for Best Novel, you wrote that you’d like to “tofacethe history of this leg of literature rather than put it aside or bury it.” Have your feelings about Lovecraft changed in the intervening time?
NO: Not atall.
WFR: You are also akeynote speaker at the 2017 conference of the Marxist Reading Group this March! Iwould love to hear more about that fromyou!
NO: Like Necronomicon, this is another group of people who have acertain ideology that Ican learn from and absorb and experience. I’m really interested in hearing what this group has to say about the state of American politics and society today. It’s an honour to be invited to be their keynote.
WFR: On the subject of weird literature, Ilove that your work does not necessarily take up the lineaments of the British-American tradition of “the weird” fostered by Lovecraft. Instead, you arrive at the weird’s startling juxtaposition of knowledges through apath charted between conventional perspectives on reality and features of belief or mysticism drawn from African cultures. You have also made it clear that you treat questions of epistemology with great respect. I’m thinking now about Binti’s role in translating types of knowledge and culture between the University, the Meduse, her family, and the Enyi Zinariya, but also about the emphasis on Saeed and the complexity of Arabic elements in the Great Book in The Book of Phoenix. It’s clear too that in contemporary global relationships, the work of cultural translation and transmission is aterribly pressing and difficult responsibility. What are your thoughts about “the weird”? Do you find that its possibly plural traditions make it agood container for this kind ofwork?
NO: Idon’t think about what Iwrite and the way Iwrite as “containers”, nor do Ithink about what others will see it as. Ijust write it. Iknow that Iam deeply interested in post-humanism and how our pasts connect with our futures and present. I’m interested in African and Arab cultures and how they both battle and blend and I’m coming at this not as aresearcher, but as aparticipant. I’m interested in technology and spirituality and how they blend and what happens when they blend. Ithink that my interests and the results of them in my stories lead to very “weird” fiction. Just as science fiction isn’t necessarily rooted in past Western traditions, the same goes with “the weird” not necessarily having aLovecraftian foundation.
WFR: If we can close by talking about current affairs for aminute: among your writing honours, in 2008 you received the Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature in Africa and you’ve talked in interviews before about how important Soyinka’s example is to you. Recently, Soyinka tore up his green card and left the United States in protest at Donald Trump’s election. As Iwrite these words, an executive order has gone into effect that bans refugees and some visa-holders from entering the US. It is avery confusing and difficult time in the US for everyone — perhaps those are understatements. What are your feelings about the present political environment in America? Does it influence your work as awriter and teacher?
NO: These are issues that I’m passionate about and that affect my family directly in many ways. On top of this, I’m avery empathic person. To me, Trump and those he surrounds himself with are adestructive, uncaring, malicious force hellbent on serving themselves. I’ve always been distrustful of politicians, but these individuals have taken it to anew level. They remind me of the seven multi-billionaire blood-drinking men at the center of things in The Book of Phoenix.
I’m teaching science fiction and creative writing this semester, both subjects that can be very emotional and politically charged. Iwelcome and look forward to all perspectives in discussions.
WFR: Thank you so much for agreeing to this conversation, Nnedi! We greatly appreciate your time and thoughts.
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[i] Interview questions have been slightly edited but not substantially changed.
