Review of Esperance by Tolu Odebiyi
From the moment I saw the buzz around Tolu Odebiyi’s Esperance, I was hooked. The blend of sci-fi and police procedural seemed like catnip for a reader like me, particularly with the promise of representing diverse, non-white viewpoints. After reading Richard’s enthusiastic review, I rushed to NetGalley to grab a copy. Sadly, what should have been a riveting read ultimately left me feeling detached and disappointed.
Set against the grim backdrop of modern-day Chicago, we follow white police lieutenant Ethan Krol as he investigates the suspicious deaths of a Nigerian medical student and his infant child, with the unsettling detail of a barracuda inexplicably found on the floor. I was intrigued by the layers of mystery and how they intertwined with themes of identity, culture, and societal perceptions. Yet as I dove deeper, I often felt like I was navigating a maze without a map.
Ethan’s character is marred by personal struggles, notably estrangement from his daughter—a storyline packed with emotional potential. Yet, instead of feeling immersed in his journey, I often found myself wrestling with the writing style. The narrative, delivered in short, choppy sentences, mirrors the detective’s voice but left me yearning for the lyrical flow and emotional depth that the plot demanded. Moments like “He kept seeing the baby. And the pools of water…” were frustratingly stark. I understood the intention was to capture Ethan’s mindset, but it often pulled me out of the story rather than drawing me in.
Enter Abidemi Eniola, whose perspective shifts us from Krol’s world to her own disorienting experience as she navigates a difficult new environment. There was a flicker of hope in her dialogue, reminiscent of a 1920s gangster, but the contrast between her voice and the narrative style felt jarring. It’s evident that Odebiyi was striving for a duality that reflects the complexity of both characters’ lives, yet the stark transitions left me ungrounded.
One of the shining aspects of Esperance is its ambition to explore multiple cultures and narratives. It hints at a social commentary that touches on racism, identity, and collective trauma. Yet, the execution often felt uneven. I craved the rich, immersive experience of Octavia Butler’s works, where each character is so textured and relatable that you can’t help but feel for their plight. Here, the characters, while deeply interesting, remained somewhat elusive, rendering my emotional connection weak.
As I reached about 20% into the book, I found myself hesitating. Each character’s arc felt like a separate book altogether, leaving me to juggle two distinct threads without the satisfaction of closure or resolution. While I appreciate the ambition behind Esperance, I simply couldn’t find the rhythm in the writing style or narrative pacing that would keep me engaged.
So, who might enjoy Esperance? Readers keen on experimental narratives or those intrigued by cultural explorations might find value in this book. It certainly grapples with significant themes that resonate in our world. For me, however, the reading experience was more perplexing than pleasurable, a bittersweet reminder that not every anticipated read lives up to its promise.
In the end, while Esperance didn’t fulfill my expectations, I’ve learned that even the books that challenge us can spark conversations worth having. Happy reading!
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