Yes, Nigerian Literature is Dying. Here is Why.
Whenever young Nigerian Writers are criticized for either not writing well enough or for the obviously excessive influence of American lit mags on their writing, or the monotony of our present-day poets, or for the dying literary culture on the national front, their first line of defense is that the critics want them to continue writing like writers of the Achebe era. Asides this, there is the argument of “Leave young writers to write how they want to write.” More recently, the question has arisen, of what Nigerian literature is, in response to the essayist, Oris Aigbokhaevbolo’s essay, The death of Nigerian literature.
Indeed, the literary scene in what is known as Nigeria is an interesting one. But what has struck me most in recent times is the very tactless response writers from Nigeria give to literary criticism, and how I think many are resisting the message in the few voices of literary criticism that have stood out in recent years. We are not objectively standing up to the question of the consequences of the direction in which literature is moving as a result of the recent trends which we have embraced.
What does it mean to be a Nigerian writer? What is Nigerian literature? How do we define these terms? Do Nigerian Writers and Nigerian literature even exist? I am sure some writers would tell you that those are mere labels, and literature is literature. A very successful poet friend has in the past told me too that he did not feel comfortable with such labels. We know literature is universal. And that I could write a novel of my experiences as a boy in Edokpọlọ Grammar School in Benin and another man who attended another high school in Alabama could pick it, and relate to many of the experiences in it. We know that the man who falls in love in Owere or Abeokuta, when he meets another who fell in love in Berlin or Sao Paulo, their stories can have many similarities. Same with despair, poverty, self-realization and indeed many of the polarities of the human condition. Yet, the evolution of literature has had so much to do with the politics of ownership. We all talk about the human condition, but from different perspectives. It is our perspectives that differentiate us. And our perspectives are often shaped by our culture and individuality. In that way the literary works of the British are different from the works of the Russians, and from the works of the French, and Japanese. But then, the works of Dickens might have been different in a number of ways from the works of Thomas Hardy. But then the common denominator there is the British culture and tradition which is a meeting and divergent points of their works. For Nigerian Writers, the common denomination which makes up what is called Nigerian literature is the colonial experience. There is no Nigerian language except the colonial language, and there is certainly nothing like Nigerian culture — at least in a cohesive sense. Nigerian literature is simply constituted by the result of the colonial experience and how we interact with it.
Writers from Nigeria who are candidates of or have acquired MFA degrees and are writing about Nigerians in America are still writing “Nigerian literature” so far as their stories are about Nigerians. Their stories are as “Nigerian” as the stories of the writers writing back home, only that they now have the diasporan perspective. The writer at home could write about suffering the inefficiencies which plague the country. The diasporan writer can be writing about fleeing the country for better opportunities elsewhere. They are both writing about a common denominator, Nigeria.
What is lacking, however, in the stories on the mainstream, is that writers are either not writing stories that engage the Nigerian condition seriously, or what Europe and America — the main piper of Nigerian literature — chooses to spotlight are not stories that engage the Nigerian experience in the local way, but in the aspects which tickle their fancy. Hence, writers are being influenced to write in a certain way.
This is not so much the fault of the West, and their often generous bounties which they offer African writers. The issue is that writers have so easily succumbed. Their desires to have their work on the global stage influenced the way they write. And this led to the proliferation of certain kinds of stories (e.g poverty porn, trauma porn, etc.) that have been lampooned in recent years.
Nigeria is such a broad market and a global centre of black culture that if Nigerian Writers had a preference for writing in a certain way, and engaging the colonial experience in their own terms, they could make a killing of it too, even if the west were funding it. But to have such bargaining power, people need to have a certain degree of national credibility which Nigeria no longer has at least as much as it used to do. The West has always been pivotal to African literature. The Makerere conference of 1962 was after all funded by the CIA. But the structure which came from all that negotiation was the Heinemann African Writers Series (AWS), which though was financed largely by the West, was largely instituted and edited by African editors and aimed to tell African stories which more than anything aimed to engage the colonial experience combatively and assert African supremacy. This kind of intentionality is currently lacking in contemporary literature and it is not unreasonable to suggest that Nigerian literature is suffering on that account.
To be fair, I think we do not talk enough about the structural angle to this problem, to which the publishing system plays a role. I was with a friend recently and we discussed indigenous Nigerian publishing. He talked of the Heinemann African Writers Series, Longman and Pacesetters and how none of the present-day Nigerian publishers have been able to replicate the success these erstwhile publishers achieved. It drew my mind to the fact that there are no publishers today trying to play the role that those erstwhile publishers played in the life of authors. These were outlets which made publishing in Nigeria or Africa mainstream, and the West secondary. These publishers brought African literature home, and combined with the academia system to make sure that these books were read in schools by students. This is how literature is brought home. Neither Farafina nor Cassava, nor Paresia, nor Masobe, nor Bookcraft have been able to create this kind of synergy. These publishers, often, do not even do a good job of marketing the books they publish. If the books they publish were read in schools, and known by the average literary enthusiast on the street, these books could become part of the societal conversations and the choices of the people at home could begin to influence how we write the way American literary magazines have influenced the way the poets of the present generation write.
The Achebe generation had structure. And their writings climbed on the back of that structure to erect their legacy. I always carry my copy of the AWS collection of poetry edited by Soyinka around. I tell everyone this is one of the Bibles of African literature. There is a collection edited by Adedayo Agarau, titled “Memento” and I often think that this collection should by now be serving a close purpose, but it isn’t yet. Maybe years later, it will. I think that this is one of the cases of how people can be alienated from works primarily published in the West. There is the 20.35 poetry collective, but it is mostly read by those in touch with the literary community online. It is not followed by the academic literary community. Here I make a case against the Nigerian academia which has not kept in touch with the contemporary literary community and in many cases, have distanced themselves from it for the sake of their bias. There are many professors in Nigerian universities who write mediocre story books and poetry collections and self-publish to force it on their students. Many of these students lament, but are powerless against it. There are impressive literary traditions in a few Nigerian universities. But that of many other “big universities” including my Alma Mater, Nnamdi Azikiwe university are lamentable. In 2021, I and my friend, Obumneme Osuchukwu began a literary community there where we introduced our members to literary essays, creative nonfiction and read contemporary as well as classic African literature. The feedback we got from the students showed that the quality of exposure which they got from their university classes were indeed mediocre. Many of them were excited to read stories by writers like Pwaangulongii Dauod, Ifesinachi Esther Okoronkwo, Chinua Ezenwa-Ohaeto, and so on. Sadly, their lecturers won’t introduce them to the works of these writers because the academia is full of lazy lecturers who aren’t keeping up, or some who are too purist and stuck with the old gems of African literature that they can’t see the quality of contemporary young writers.
This is why there is a strong argument that writers (especially our best writers) immigrating and becoming teachers in universities abroad is leading to the deterioration of Nigerian literature. Imagine that half of these writers had good opportunities to write and teach in the country, but then Nigeria has nothing to offer creatives. I have labored in the literary vineyard for long enough to know this.
How fundamental to the growth of society is present-day “Nigerian” literature? How visible is it? Or is it becoming an elitist commodity? Perhaps, we should talk about economics here to buttress this. Many Nigerians who love books and are in tandem with the times are too poor to buy books. Bookstores are far away from many and the cost of buying two novels and shipping are half the minimum wage. Reading is a luxury, and this is why the culture flourishes more in countries with good economies and art flourishes there. National art (Nigerian literature in this case) ought to be a national priority and the government should provide a good environment for art to flourish. This is usually done by creating a structural wheel between the academic and publishing world as well as the literary world and a healthy space for National discourse. Rather, what we have here are politicians who want artists to do their bidding and write their propaganda and launder their image. We do not have a political system which values the criticism that can come from art. Even our writers can’t take well to criticism. Tell them Nigerian literature is dying and they begin to lambast you on how you want them to keep writing like Achebe and Soyinka. But that isn’t even the point.
Read my essay, “Is Art Criticism Dead in Nigeria?” Here
Nigeria has had many writers since the first generation of writers. But why are they still the standard? It is simply the fact that they produced a body of work which combatively dealt with the problem of their age. The second generation tried to follow in their footsteps. The third generation however is a failed generation of artistes. This is not to say there are no good writers among them, but that the body of work which they produced has failed to play the pivotal role it is supposed to play in society. It is a generation lacking in thinkers and philosophers and people who are more or less, part of the conspiracy to bury history. How can art that doesn’t interrogate history or seek philosophy carry weight? A generation which conspired to enthrone a despotic government and has been silent in the event of all the attendant disasters. What is the benefit of literature that doesn’t interrogate the status quo? What is the benefit of storytellers who are not threats to the status quo, but mere praise singers to the corrupt despots and who pay eye service to their acts of destruction. These same people gatekept the literary world for long and provided far less opportunities than they could have because they did not want younger ones to emerge from nowhere and challenge the rot they have created. My generation of writers, to be honest, had to run away, to escape asphyxiation. We are a generation that owes the country nothing. But we owe our children a sense of identity and far more guidance than we got.
At the end of the day, maybe Nigerian literature has to die, and a new sense of National consciousness has to arise with new literature. Whether we admit it or not, less and less people are enthusiastic about Nigeria. And this is why when you criticize them, they are quick to tell you they can’t keep writing like Achebe and Soyinka. Sure, it is easier to make a name and a living writing the way American lit mags want, than to keep being crusaders to a country that by all metrics, is a lost cause. Yes. Nigerian literature is dying. Nigerian writers are fading away. Even though we will rather rant on Twitter than write essays, yes we are still writing good stories and poems, and we need new philosophers. As for Nigerian literature, something new will arise in its wake.
Buy my novel, “Loss is an Aftertaste of Memories” here.
