I swept through this book quickly and loved pretty much every moment. Finished it in the wee hours of the morning. As macabre as the title is, and as grim as the subject matter, too, the humor woven through the story lightened it up JUST a bit. Korede narrates the story about her sister’s – shall we say – penchant for murdering her boyfriends. Once her sister, Ayoola, has set her sights on the doctor that Korede has loved (from a distance at the hospital where she works as a nurse), Korede begins to wonder just how much more of her sister’s homicidal ways she can take. Can or should she try to protect the doctor? How can she keep her sister away from him? How long will she be haunted by the victims – while fussing at Ayoola to stay off of Instagram like everything is okay? Moments like this are the ones that lighten things up for the reader and perhaps Korede as she shares this story. Even darker than these troubles is the childhood the girls lost and why and how. It makes the tale more somber and even a tad understanding. Set in Nigeria, My Sister, the Serial Killer also brings to light how women there are perceived by men, in terms of social status, work, their expectations of women, and looks. As Korede notes, that looks part can be a sad breaking point for some men.
Korede had spent so much time of her life protecting Ayoola as demanded by their mother, it reached the point where Korede expected it at all costs… and demanded it. My Sister, the Serial Killer is a story about a sister’s bond – an incredibly, strong one, and it’s quite a testament to the question of whether or not one could be broken even if the desire to do so is this freaking strong. Highly recommended.
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