I stumbled upon 'and then he sang a lullaby' a while back, and it's one of those stories that lingers in your mind long after you finish it. It's actually a standalone novel by Ani Kayode Somtochukwu, a Nigerian writer who crafts deeply emotional LGBTQ+ narratives. The book follows two young men, August and Segun, as they navigate love, identity, and societal pressures in a country where being gay is criminalized. The title itself is poetic—it references a moment of tenderness between the characters, a quiet rebellion against the harsh world around them. The writing is raw and lyrical, balancing heartbreak with hope in a way that feels incredibly real. I found myself rooting for August and Segun despite knowing the odds stacked against them. It's not a light read, but it's an important one, especially for those interested in stories that challenge norms and celebrate resilience.
What struck me most was how Somtochukwu weaves Nigerian culture into every page—the food, the music, the slang—it all feels vivid and alive. The novel doesn't shy away from the brutality of homophobia, but it also highlights the beauty of queer joy in spaces where it shouldn't exist. If you enjoyed books like 'The House of Impossible Beauties' or 'Real Life', this might hit similarly. Fair warning though: keep tissues handy. The ending wrecked me in the best possible way—it's bittersweet and haunting, the kind that makes you stare at the ceiling for hours.