Comment

Apr 28, 2019
A quick, irresistible read that satisfies, no matter how deeply you want to think about it. Written as a series of vignettes, the book can easily be read in a single day -- a delicious, confidently-written story to devour right away, or to savor long after its done. For me, the questions that surface in Oyinkan Braithwaite's debut novel in the context of survivorship and trauma (these themes emerge early on; content warning for explicit scenes of domestic violence and implied threats of sexual assault). How do violent experiences shape the way we understand safety? What does protecting the people we love require of us? Do we have any responsibility for the cultural prescriptions and societal value that others place on us? Braithwaite's characters, Korede and Ayoola, don't exactly answer these questions... nor do they explicitly ask them. But for most of us reading this hilariously sinister book in the #MeToo era, it's hard to miss the internal conflicts that plague Korede and Ayoola (well, maybe one sister more than the other). After Ayoola murders her third boyfriend, she claims to have acted in self-defense of a violent attack (not unlike the circumstances of her two previous homicides). Is Korede wrong to doubt her sister's account? Does the author lend credibility to the harmful trope of "false accusations" by having Ayoola repeatedly name self-defense as her motivation to kill? Sadly, what makes this story so starkly satirical is that -- despite Ayoola's increasingly untrustworthy behavior -- her repeated claims of dating violence are never completely implausible. As the sisters learn from their physically and emotionally abusive father, men's socially-sanctioned brutality seldom provokes as much justification or intervention as Korede attempts with Ayoola. What gave me the most pause in MY SISTER, THE SERIAL KILLER is how Ayoola seems to manipulate Tade (the coworker Korede pines for and Ayoola takes up as her latest boyfriend) into distrusting Korede -- ostensibly, to ensure that Tade ignores any of Korede's warnings. On several occasions, Tade chastises Korede, based on Ayoola's version of their relationship. Korede, understandably, is infuriated by these characterizations. Following this story from her point of view, we see Korede show up over and over again to clean up Ayoola's messes -- we might even relate to her indignation at being taken from granted by an ungrateful sibling. "I've never held Ayoola back; if anything, I've given her a future", Korede fumes. But what future does Korede set Ayoola up for? From the very beginning of the book, it's apparent that Ayoola carefully tracks Korede's face for frustration, exasperation, and disapproval; Korede's assessments matter, and she certainly has them. Though Korede always backs her sister up in the end, readers understand just how critical and resentful Korede actually feels -- clearly, Ayoola knows, too. Perhaps Ayoola can sense what her sister is unable to admit: that Korede takes pride in her meticulous work ethic, including the way she fixes Ayoola's disasters. That Korede's efforts take an emotional toll oscillates between being a burden and a badge of honor. So... is Ayoola's description of Korede based on her genuine experience, or is it a calculated attempt to influence Tade? The author leaves this for the reader to determine. Tade's reluctance to heed Korede's warnings is as likely to be because of Ayoola's conniving, as it is his own unwillingness to see Ayoola beyond his idealized version of her. For those of us (including me) who first assume that Ayoola is responsible for Tade's distrust in Korede... isn't Tade responsible for his own assessments? Isn't it he who chooses to dismiss a long-time colleague over a person whose positive attributes he can scarcely identify? Braithwaite reveals just how insidious our own gendered assumptions are, without ever brandishing an evangelical word. What a cool book.