Books By African Authors Novels & Stories

Sabeerah brought them out one by one. Muslim Girl and If I Speak by Umm Zakiyyah, The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides, Three Daughters Of Eve by Elif Shafak, On Black Sister's Street by Chika Unigwe, And Then There Was None by Agatha Christie, A Time To Kill by John Grisham and finally, A History Of The Wives Of Prophet Muhammad by Umam Kahn. She picked up the last book which was actually a journal and tucked in its side were plack pencils with bookish scribbles on them.

masterminds are here, playing games with them." said my mother. "Now you are getting the point." I replied. "We dont need guns, the police or government to fight some battles. We need the people. Common people." I said and my mother stared at me in amazement. "I love you Fetty. You are so smart. Sometimes, I feel I don't deserve such a sensible child. " she said. I smiled halfway then noticed the book beside my mother's chair. "It's yours. I bought it for you. " she said. "Wow. " I said while grabbing the book. "Have you read it before? " she asked. "No. Not at all. " I replied. "I told the book seller, I don't know whether to purchase this book or not because my daughter reads virtually ev

Agbai said. "His lifestyle or morals has nothing to do with his economics," I said. "Okay, I agree with you on that one. Um... You said you read Nigerian books, which one have you guys read." "Chimamanda's Purple Hibiscus, Americana, a whole lot," I said. "But I like Wole Soyinka's A Dance In The Forest and..." I paused to think of the other book. "Things Fall Apart," Raymond added. "Yes, that's it. Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart." I said.

I said. "It isn't really, just be smug," the Cameroonian lad smiled. Less muscles involved i guess. "Having spent my whole life in Nigeria, i don't know how to be smug," I joined him in his laughter. "Someone told me on my way here that most of the people here are both authors and agnostics. So are you a published author?" "Not yet. Don't believe what people say easily. I am neither an author nor an agnostic. Besides, I don't think the publishing world is ready to grab a soul like mine. I got lots of planned books to write before I die. Thirteen books for now."

I walked away clapping and glancing at the audience who had watched our little show, then finally headed toward the book and craft stalls, which were precisely what I had come for. I entered an aisle of large blue and black shelves holding countless manuscripts. I managed to buy several, and surprisingly, at the end of the landing, there was a section for the international community with books translated into multiple languages. I didn’t hesitate to pick up titles in English and Spanish, thrilled to see works by Canadian author Sylvain Reynard and South Americans like the great Ernesto Sábato, the trilogies by young Carlos Da Silva, the series by the wonderful Venezuelan writers Miriam Meza

"Should I continue?" "Of course! I am listening to everything you have to say about authors. I want you to mention more authors you have inside that brain of yours. Mention some African authors or some South American authors." "I love Gabriel Garcia Marquez' work," Blackwheel continued. "I love the style, composure and tempo he provides. It excites me a lot even though I have read only, 'One hundred years of solitude.' Then, there is Buchi Emecheta for her touching romantic voice. Then there is African great writer, Chinua Achebe who has provided the platform for other great African writers to showcase their talent and skill in writing. Then, there is Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie for her modern

“I don’t think I’ve read that one.” “It’s not very common,” Ramsay said, looking at it over her shoulder. “The author is African, actually, and it describes a lot of brutal racial situations in the 30s or so… It was banned in the US for a long time because of the slave trade, and when it finally came out, people found it too… harsh?” He shrugged, “If you ask me, they’re just fucking racist and don’t want to look past their mistakes.”

With that, based on the notes she had jotted down in the past, Hilda picked up her businesses from the past gradually. During the time she spent in Africa, there were similar kinds of books available in Anthony's bookstore. She used to read them when she was bored. She didn't have much to do for entertainment apart from reading in those three years, so she had read quite a number of books. It seemed that the knowledge she had accumulated during that time could finally be put to good use now.

“I believe it is my passion for anything arts and fun, as writing allows me to be myself and to write my own stories. Writing, as it is, allows me to always express myself in my own stories. “Wow that is indeed impressive,” Mr. Ross added. “Do you have any role models? Any writers you look up to?” he asked her. As someone who loved a lot of African writers, Isioma found it extremely hard to answer. After careful thought, “Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and also JK Rowling,” Isioma said with a sense of conviction deep in her heart. “Okay. Those are good writers. I read a lot of Chinua Achebe myself.”

She was shocked when she found the first copy editions of Harry Potter. "Don't these cost an arm and a leg now?" Olivia asked, raising a copy. "Well, they would set you back a few thousands but they are worth it," "I can't believe you have all the Jane Austen books," Olivia said admiring the collection. "I'm quite a fan," Celine grinned. "Even of Afrocentric authors?" Celine nodded. "Yeah, books are a portal to other worldviews and pathways towards knowledge, so it doesn't matter who wrote what,"