“My Sister, The Serial Killer”

I first came across this book while trying to figure out my Christmas list. I’m not generally picky when it comes to what I want as a gift, but this year, I knew I wanted a certain type of book under the tree. 

First, it couldn’t be something I had read before, as I have a weird obsession with buying and rereading books that were assigned to me for school. Secondly, I wanted to read something by a black author with a black, ideally female, main character. Third, it had to be set in the modern day. Fourth, and most importantly, I didn’t want to read a book that was traumatic event after traumatic event happening to the main character. It wasn’t that I wanted an escapist fantasy. I just didn’t want to have my soul crushed for a majority of the book (if you want a good, soul-crushing book I’d redirect you to “Kindred” by Octavia E. Butler).

I suppose it sounds strange to pick up a book called “My Sister, the Serial Killer” after insisting that I don’t want endless suffering for the main character. From the title alone, you might expect a bloody thriller/mystery novel, full of twists and turns at every corner. While I do enjoy those types of stories, this novel isn’t a thriller in a traditional sense, and in my opinion, that’s what makes it better.

“My Sister, the Serial Killer” is a 2018 thriller/dark comedy written by Oyinkan Braithwaite, a Nigerian-British author. The book had a generally positive reception. It currently sits at a 3.64 on Goodreads, and it’s won some literary awards, including the 2019 Los Angeles Times Book Prize for Best Mystery/Thriller and the the 2020 British Book Award for Crime & Thriller Book of the Year.

The story, which takes place in Lagos, Nigeria, follows Korede, a hard-working nurse who’s considered unremarkable in comparison to her younger sister, the beautiful Ayoola. Everyone seems to favor Ayoola, from Korede’s coworkers to their own mother. However, Ayoola harbors a horrible secret that’s spelled out in the first chapter: she’s a killer whose victims are her boyfriends, and by the time the story starts, she’s on her third body. But the story isn’t about Ayoola and dissecting why she does what she does. It’s about Korede, who’s taken up the thankless job of cleaning up the murder scenes and keeping Ayoola as unsuspicious as possible. It’s the over-burdened older sibling trope to the extreme. 

When Korede isn’t keeping track of Ayoola, she’s at work, dealing with slacking coworkers, a comatose patient turned confidant, and her crush on a handsome doctor named Tade, who appears to be oblivious to Korede’s feelings. For the most part, her work life and her personal life are kept separate. That is, until Ayoola shows up at her work and catches the eye of Tade. It’s already hard enough to get your crush stolen by someone close to you, but Korede is also forced to deal with the possibility that Ayoola may kill Tade. Is this the final straw? Can she keep Tade safe?

I applaud Braithwaite’s ability to make murder feel so mundane in a story with the words “serial killer” in its title. That’s not to say that Korede is heartless. She frequently reflects on her guilt of being an accomplice and does her best to steer Ayoola away from more murders. However, the murders are really only a backdrop used to explore the complex sibling relationship between Korede and Ayoola. 

Like I said before, it’s not about why Ayoola is a murderer. We hardly get an explanation on what drove Ayoola to kill in the first place, nor does the story focus on the mystery behind it. Sure, Ayoola drops lines of dialogue to maybe explain herself, but it’s clear that she can’t be relied on to tell the complete truth. It’s because of this that I don’t consider this story to be a traditional thriller. Korede isn’t a detective. She’s simply a woman trying to keep her younger sister out of trouble.

As a reader, there were times where I was rooting for Korede to reveal Ayoola’s secret, but there were other times where I was anxiously praying that nobody found out. It is only now that I’m writing this review that I’m realizing how amazing that is. As the reader, you’re sucked into Korede’s dilemma and you can easily see both sides of the argument. You start off wondering why Korede is so loyal to Ayoola despite them not getting along, and then you see–through gradual flashbacks and subtle hints. It’s beautiful. It’s frustrating. It makes for a great read.

Korede has a special place in my heart as a protagonist. She added a dry sense of humor to the narration that the story benefits from. I also found myself identifying with many of her inner struggles: feeling overlooked, unappreciated, and like the ugly duckling. Sometimes, she can be read as being too cynical, bitter, and jealous. Some might find that annoying. I actually enjoyed that about her character. Braithwaite was certainly not afraid to make a main character that’s a little unlikeable.  Korede is not supposed to be a perfect individual, and the story doesn’t attempt to make her out to be the beacon of morality. She’s just a human being in a very unfortunate situation.

I struggled to put this book down. 200-something pages later, I came to the end of the story and found myself wanting to see more of these characters. What happens next? When will the characters come to their senses? Will Korede ever be okay? And seriously, why did Ayoola kill? Alas, I had to shut the book. There was nothing more for the story to say. For us readers, this was a string of thrilling events. For Korede, however, it was just more of the same.