A New Novel by Helen Oyemi: A Tangled Identity
Many of us find ourselves reflecting on the concept of self. Virginia Woolf certainly thought about it a lot. But, are we really just exploring ourselves? Portuguese author Fernando Pessoa suggests there’s something deeper at play. He introduced the idea of “heteronyms,” essentially separate identities that coexist within a single person. So, is everyone around us really just different versions of ourselves? This question finds a new light in Helen Oyemi’s latest book.
Oyemi first captured readers’ attention in 2005 with “The Icarus Girl,” telling the story of an imaginative 8-year-old named Jessamy, born to a Nigerian mother and a British father. Now, with her new release, she continues to delve into complex themes but with a playful twist, showcasing her knack for storytelling.
The action unfolds in Prague, where Oyemi has resided since 2013. Unlike her previous work, “Parasol Against the Axe,” this story doesn’t let the city narrate itself. Instead, we meet Kinga Sikora, a Polish woman in her 40s, split into seven distinct versions of herself. Each Kinga appears to have personal goals that remain concealed from the others, creating a shared but complicated existence. It’s a puzzling dynamic, especially since the original Kinga seems to have had a pivotal role in this situation for over a decade now.
Oyemi’s artistry is a glorious concoction of absurdity and wit.
What exactly is this book about? Well, it’s hard to pin down, and maybe that’s the point. Oyemi seems to embrace a sense of uncertainty, trusting that the story will naturally uncover its significance. It feels somewhat like a riddle—a captivating exploration of self-mythology. It’s a comedy reflecting on the masks we wear, along with more profound questions about the self: can we ever truly understand which parts of ourselves are supportive, and which aren’t? Oh, and there’s this intriguing subplot involving a tied-up man in one of the Kingas’ apartments. Who is he? How did he end up there? And which version of Kinga might have brought him in?
The first Kinga we encounter is Kinga-A, who sets the tone for the week. A matchmaker for bank employees, she believes she knows what’s best for everyone. But her domineering nature doesn’t sit well with the others. It turns out her lockdown efforts backfired, isolating her from her brothers without consulting them first. Kinga-A claims ignorance about the tied man, while she also doesn’t hesitate to criticize Kinga-B for a secret church visit.
Kinga-B, feeling overwhelmed, decides to make a stand—she’s done with chores and drags the other Kingas into her rebellion. This sets the stage for a week filled with humor, unexpected encounters, and red herrings. Egos clash, old wounds resurface, and mutual distrust complicates the already tangled situation surrounding the man in the apartment. We gradually learn that Kinga-C has been secretly involved with him, and that the original Kinga may wish for a return to normalcy, alongside the chaos of the others trying to communicate their divergent narratives devoid of clear resolutions. It’s chaotic, and even their therapists have cut ties.
Ultimately, the conclusion is both absurd and delightful. You can’t help but admire Oyemi’s skill in embracing artistic chaos. You might either fall in love with this novel or toss it aside in frustration—either way, it’s bound to provoke a reaction. Personally, I found it not only engaging but also delightfully perplexing.
A New Me by Helen Oyemi is published by Faber (£16.99).
