Funky Tuesday at the book Jam

You were a little bit sceptical when you received an invite for a special edition of what was usually a monthly event, The Bookjam. This special edition was supposedly in honour of writer John C Maxwell who, according to the invite, would be supported by three Nigerian authors.

Though only the name of one of the authors ringed familiar to your ears, Abraham Oshoko, author of ‘June 12: The Struggle For Power In Nigeria’ you decided to attend the event and arrived the venue about fifteen minutes before the 3 o’clock start of time, hoping to dodge a repeat of your adventure with African time a few weeks prior, but you hoped in vain. For an event that was billed for 3 pm, African time played much more than the usual havoc. You felt justified to give kudos to the organizers for starting just a few minutes later than the advertised time, but you also gave them knocks for, in 2010, using a sound system that transmitted more noise than all else.

You didn’t even shy away from also awarding Silverbird serious thumbs down for venue choice. Whoever picked the lobby of the Silverbird galleria for an event that was supposed to be intellectually engaging left too much to be desired as the constant drone of shoppers and a particularly annoying sound from some sort of machinery served as sources of more than just the casual distraction, drawing participants mind away from the discourse.

Anyway, after a sputtered (blame the sound) announcement by the mc, Ani, Abraham Oshoko began reading from his graphic novel. Though the young man really tried to convey the feel of his graphic novel via reading, the bland nature of it made you wonder if that is the best way to relay a work of that nature – perhaps an accompanying slide show would have suffixed here.

Sometime at this point, the audio got better, And you smiled as the author described his nationalistic leanings while answering a question from a participant as to what made him embark of his project (the graphic novel) and you recalled when you too found comfort in that sort of thing, Nationalism.

But then another young man, still young enough to fling his age about without feeling self conscious, Tolu Akani, a 21 year old, just a few weeks out of the university got up to read – to your undisguised interest – his newly published and launched book, which is basically a compilation of stuffs he wrote at 20.

Though you have never been inclined towards self help books, listening to young Mr Tolu read from his book sold you completely, or almost. The young man used simple every day analogies in a very creative way to convince you that his book is what whatever hype it surely would generate in the near future. You laughed aloud at his portrayal of the travails of a bottle of coke, how it sells for 50 Naira in a road-side buka and becomes 500 Naira in a high brow eatery, somehow you could imagine you being that bottle of coke…yeah, you could be. Says Mr Tolu…it’s all about packaging!
Then Mr Adebayo Adelaja-Olowo-Ake came with his delightful reading from his novel ‘Thunder Lightening and Storm’. Man! Did he bring all that and more to bear?

The fresh novel, which he said was inspired by a real life female Major-General in the Nigerian army, Aderonke Kale (rtd), a name whose fame was further buttressed by the fact that it was recognised by your word processor, centres around lieutenant Aminat Zechariah of the Nigerian airforce. The depth of this book, clearly evident even in the light of the less than an hour reading of a few parts, made you wonder why the author wasn’t published by one of the big players in the Nigerian literary scene.

The 2nd runner up of Project fame West Africa, Mr Tomiwa, was also on hand to entertain the guests with a rendition of his brand new single ‘I will do’. You nodded your head, captivated by the music, a love song, one you considered well crafted, while frowning slightly at the bum length short most of the obviously affluent young ladies that trooped in and out of the high-end galleria were sporting, wondering if, when they come, you will allow your daughters dress in such, let alone buy it for them.

Deciding to leave the venue a few minutes shy of the 6 pm closing time, you hastily explained to the man next to you that the traffic wouldn’t wait for the Aforementioned John Maxwell before closing up, making your journey home more hectic.
Outside, you flag an Okada down and as it meandered with you through the building traffic, you felt the weight of Tomiwa complementary CD in your suit pocket, You smiled happily. Yeah, it was well worth it…even without the advertised John Maxwell.
Adieu

The first novel I read

I was in primary four when I read my first novel.

My dad had this collection of books, kept in a three tier shelve, that we were forbidden to touch or allow our multitude of uncles, aunties and other kin take away, under pain of sever flogging (yes, my father didn’t spare the rod, that’s why I turned out so well bred – I hope).

My and I brothers used to look at those books with awe, pondering what made them so special, wondering if we will ever get to read them.

There were times that the urge to know what made the books so special got too much to bear, times we gave in to that compulsion and standing on a kitchen stool we would take them down one at a time and look at the covers paying special attention to those that had pictures in them.

It was this same compulsion that led to my punishment. As usual I and my brothers had visited the out-of-bounds shelve to look at the books. Everything had gone according to plan until I began reading the notes attached to the pictures and got too engrossed that I did not hear when my father walked in.

I had thought the world would fall down on me when I looked up after a shadow crossed the page I was reading to see him looming over me. He had looked at me for a spell, and then when I had expected his usual ‘my friend what do you think you are doing?’ he had asked for his food which I quickly ran to get.

I was sitting quietly outside, awaiting his wrath, when his booming voice called me back into the sitting room to clear the plate. As I turned to carry the plates away he asked me to hold on.

“My friend, take that book,” he said, pointing to a book lying face down on the table. “That one you were reading is too advanced for you. Read this one but you must tell the story when you finish.”

My heart went flip flop. I had expected the worst. But there was I, with permission to touch one of the sacred texts. I began reading in earnest almost immediately, not that I was overly eager to read the book but on account of the instruction to retell the story afterwards – the punishment for touching the sacred books. At first I found some words strange, but an older cousin soon taught me how to write the difficult words down and check them later in our little oxford dictionary.

Before I knew it, I was caught up in a world of love, money and cars, all of which I knew only little about, in a world I wanted so much to visit. That first book changed my life, gave me an escape from the taunts that usually followed me whenever I went to where other kids played football – I was that kid with a bad leg that everyone laughed at.

That was the beginning of my incursion into books and the world of make believe. Before I left primary school I had read everything in the forbidden bookshelf and by JSS 1, I could tell that James Hadley Chase was a fictional character. Yeah, I already could tell style then.

I was in primary four when I read my first novel. It was a Pacesetters book written by Muhammed Sule. ‘Undesirable element’.

100 writing mistakes to avoid

I got a review copy of the book ‘100 writing mistakes to avoid’ by Maeve Maddox two days ago. As is my nature, I quickly scanned through before reading – from the end downwards.


I must say that the first thing that struck me was the choice of font and colour; they truly stood out and made for an easy read.

Thirty minutes later I looked up from my screen, a smile of intense satisfaction playing around my lips. It is not every day that one encounters gold nuggets, something this book truly is.

Yes, this book aside from being timely is one of those ones that you would readily recommend to friends, but dread giving out. Like the author said in the introduction “it is for writers who want to avoid the most common errors of written English without spending a lot of time looking it up.”

The 100 errors are arranged according to type: spelling mistakes, usage Mistakes, grammar mistakes and punctuation mistakes. All in an easily accessible way.

The errors covered are many of those that cause writers a lot of embarrassment, especially when they appear in works that have passed through the editing process. The book will surely not answer the questions of anyone not familiar with English parts of speech and other basic terms, but it sure would become a very good companion for writers that find it hard commiting things to memory.

For me, I think it is one of the handiest books on the subject matter I have seen so far. I recommend this to anybody serious about error-free writing.

the book is available at http://www.dailywritingtips.com/

Pilgrimage invitation

2011 election draws near, where are the gladiators

They say the change should start with us. I am willing to vote for a progressive next year; it’s just that I can't seem to find any.
Pat Utomi used to be the 'man' but he has since dropped back to the usual wordy posting on Facebook. One had hoped Donald Duke would morph into some kind of Kennedy, but like the others, he seemed to have too many ... See more skeletons to bury.

I hear Dele Momodu is gunning for the top job, but I fear he might move the capital from Abuja to Accra. Besides, beyond musicians, actors, money bags and the like, I doubt if the man on the street knows who he is, abi welders and conductors dey read Ovation.

Bankole could have been a 'to die for' but the guy own worst pass, like Chimaroke, he seems to be keen on squandering a golden opportunity to endear himself to his fellow youths.

As it stands, I want to vote next year, but unlike last time around, when around this time I already knew Pat Utomi was going to get my vote, I am at loss as to who will fly the flag of the progressives.

Jonathanlitics or not, I am yet to be sold on the man, he seems to be a man with purpose and good intent, but so was OBJ.

I WILL VOTE sha, for Fashola... I don't know who else for.