(Book Review): Blackass by A. Igoni Barrett

“No human being has ever directly seen their own face. It’s impossible within nature — the most you can do is glimpse your nose and, for those with full lips, the curve of your upper lip. And so we only see ourselves through external sources, whether as images in mirrors, pixels on the screen, or words on the page, words of love from a mother, words of hate from an ex-lover.” 

A. Igoni Barrett

Furo Wariboko is a regular Nigerian man until he isn’t, when one day he wakes up to find that he has changed completely: he is white. Since he has a job interview that day, he is forced to go out into the world in his new condition before he has time to fully wrap his head around his transformation. Blackass takes us through Furo’s journey as he is forced to abandon his home and family, to try and make a new life for himself, and to navigate his new reality and world view as a white man.

There is a second key character in this: Igoni. Igoni also happens to be the name of the author of Blackass. Coincidence? No, it is not. I loved that about this read. I find it so meta that the author in the book was also the author of the book. Some Inception type thing.

I loved that this book ran two storylines that intersected in a significant way, with the central theme being radical transformation and the adjustments that come with it. Furo changed overnight from black to white. He meets a kind stranger, Igoni, a man who buys him a drink and gives his some money. However, as the story progresses, we are introduced to Igoni, a female author who takes an active interest in Furo and his transformation. Igoni has transitioned, and she is in a uniquely peculiar position to relate to what Furo is going through in his new life. The parallels were delightful to read; I liked that there was one person who knew the entirety of Furo’s story, one person with whom he didn’t have to pretend.

Through Furo’s experiences, the author explores racial relations as we see Furo’s life change dramatically to reflect the new skin he wears. We see the privileges that his new race afford him. He immediately gets a job and has to field offers from other places, even though he has been on the job hunt for years. His CV is the same, but because he is white, he gets a promotion even before he starts the job, his qualifications be damned. We see the doors that immediately ecome open to him the moment he changes his name from Furo Wariboko to Frank Whyte.

“During their meeting in Arinze’s office, Arinze had expressed astonishment at Furo’s decision to change his name. In response to his cautious questions, Furo explained that Frank was his Christian name and Whyte was his furo ere, his family name, the English version of his family’s compound name. Many Kalabari families still retained this legacy of the slave-trading days when the chieftains answered one name in the clan and another to the white customer, the European sailors, who had no interest in learning their names and thus, partly in mockery and partly from necessity, addressed them by English nicknames. Hence it became that Fyneface was Karibo, Yellowe was Iyalla, Black-Duke was Oweredaba, Bobmanuel was Ekine Georgewill was Otagi, Harry was Idoniboye-Obu, and, according to Furo, Whyte was Wariboko.”

A. Igoni Barret, Blackass (as Furo Wariboko)

We also see race through the wider lens of community. Lightly touching on Nigerian history, the author tells the story of how hugely the slave-trade permeated, and continues to permeate, African lives and realities, down to naming practices. I personally enjoy history, so I am bound to be partial to literature that both entertains and educates me. The questions is “What’s in a name?” and it reminded me of this article by a friend.

“Womanhood comes with its peculiar burdens, among them the constant reminder of a subordinate status whose dominant symptom was uninvited sexual attention from men. I hadn’t foreseen this fact of my new identity. Bus conductors whistled at me on the street; drivers pulled over to offer me rides to bars; and when I went shopping for my new wardrobe in Yaba market, the touts grabbed at my hands and laughed at my protests. All manner and ages of male called me fine girl, sweet lips, correct pawpaw, big bakassi. Landlords wanted to know if I would soon marry, if I had children, if my father or my boss would stand surety for me. A woman is not expected to live alone, to walk alone in peace, or to want to be alone. “

A. Igoni Barrett, Blackass (as Igoni)

As I mentioned earlier, I loved that there was a separate story running alongside Furo’s. Igoni, through her own transition, is forced to grapple with sexism she may have been previously blind to. There’s not much I can say about this — it’s explored much more beautifully in Igoni’s story.

“Nobody can tell me that they like living in Nigeria. Except that person doesn’t have any sense at all, at all. Even if you have all the money in the world — you see that pothole, you see what I mean, where are the good roads? You don’t know what you’re saying! OK, let me ask you this, what about light? You like NEPA, abi? Is it because you have money to buy generator? So what about petrol? Tell me now, how can you run your generator when fuel scarcity is everywhere? And what of armed robbers? What of kidnappers? Ah, OK, what of Boko Haram? You like them too? Police, nko? Apart from standing on road to be collecting money from innocent people, what work are those ones doing? “

A. Igoni Barrett

I read the above quote, and all I could think about was Kenya. Seriously, though, substitute ‘Kenya’ for ‘Nigeria’, ‘Kenya Power’ for ‘NEPA’ and ‘Al Shabaab’ for ‘Boko Haram’ and you have yourself another best seller. You’re welcome! I won’t go into all of that because this is not the time, and frankly, I don’t have the energy at the moment, but I know you know the words I speak are true, and that it’s a conversation we should definitely have at some point. Not now, though, because phew!

Now before I get into what I did NOT like about this read, I will mention my favourite thing: Igoni (the character, not the author. I mean, the author character, not the author author like real human author. I told you this was meta! You know who I mean). I think Igoni was probably the most badass character in this read. She was fierce and curious, and she’s an author so you KNOW I am biased! Also, this quote by her:

“Because the success of a man, our people say, is the father’s doing. You are your father’s son — you follow in your father’s footsteps. Manhood and its machismo are attributed to the seed, which then follows that the failure to make a man is the egg’s burden. Your papa born you well, they will sing to a man in praise, but when he disappoints so-and-so’s expectations of XY manliness, it becomes Nah your mama I blame. My say is this: when you live in a worldwide bullring, bullshit is what you’ll get. If they say I cannot be my mother’s son, then it must be that I’m her daughter.”

Seriously, if that isn’t the most boss move, I don’t know what is. This, she says, of her transition; of the thought process that led her there, of her resolve, of her certified G status. I stan and will not stop stanning, thank you.

Okay, so now what I didn’t like.

The premise of this story was excellent. It’s those stories that start with a bang, you know? There’s no way your attention is not immediately grabbed when a black man wakes up white. But then, idk I didn’t really like where the story went after that. I mean, I enjoyed that the story draws our attention to the differences in how Furo is treated based off of nothing but his skin colour. But I think the story really slowed down and I caught myself checking how much longer, more than once, and that is never a good sign.

“You just want what you want. It’s only about you.”

Tosin to Furo; a pretty succinct summary of Furo’s entire personality

Also, MY GOODNESS, FURO. Furo is probably one of the most exasperating characters I have read about in a while. He is a selfish prick, and his entire life is centered around him. I want to cut him some slack because of this huge change in his life and because he is struggling to find his footing. But he consistently comes across such amazing people who go out of their way to accommodate and help him. His feeding, accommodation, passport, job… literally everything he needs is taken care of by other people. But Furo only thinks about what he can get out of people, time and again. I wondered if that was a symptom of his new privilege… that he realised he can get away with a lot, but something tells me Furo has always been a selfish twat, he just never had the opportunity to exploit it fully until his transformation. Now, if you read my review of Drunk here, you know that unrelatable and unlikeable characters are a big make-it-or-break-it for me in literature. Listen, I don’t mind villains. I love them. But characters who think they are good people then go ahead to walk all over everyone in their lives, all while giggly thinking it’s ‘cute’; characters who repeatedly overestimate their importance in people’s lives, including strangers, and expect others to bend over backwards for them because they are “oh so sad” or “just having a rough time”, all the while pretending they would do the same, but knwing that it’s solely about them… hard pass, chief! So, yeah, Furo largely ruined my experience of Blackass.

“Syreeta had him trapped. She might have planned this, or maybe she didn’t and the pregnancy just happened, but either way, she had him where she wanted him. Rooted in her life. Implanted in her womb. Sprouting a life he would have no control over. A child was a mistake he couldn’t make. For many reason, but above all for the same reason he had left his family behind. Suffer alone and die alone. Strike a path through life without worrying who stands in the way of your blind blows. On this island of existence, the survivor is the man who understands he is trapped. Syreeta, for all her uses, was another trap.”

While we are on the subject of insufferable Furo, how about this lovely quote in which he ponders being ‘trapped’ by Syreeta. For context, Syreeta had picked him off the street, given him a place to stay when he was homeless, funded his every need including getting a passport, and basically supported him through what was possibly the weirdest and hardest part of his life. In return, he stole (well… borrowed without her consent; he only used and put back) her expensive lightening creams for his butt (it makes sense if you read the book 😂), judged her lifestyle even though he was now benefitting from it, then whined about her getting pregnant. Might I also emphasise that on the day they first got intimate, Syreeta wanted to use protection, Furo threw some lame line and coerced her into not using any. Then he thrust forth his whole audacity to claim he had been ‘trapped’. He reminded me so much of Bwogo here. Nothing like some casual sexist hyprocrisy to spice up a boring day.

Anyhu, when I started Blackass, I expected to love it because the idea was really good. However, the main character ruined it for me (I would have preferred this as Igoni’s story rather than Furo’s; she is a far superior character in every way, but okay), and I find it hard to get past that. But I think it discusses some important issues, and for that, it is an important read. Also, it left me with this quote that I will probably overuse in the near future, so I apologise in advance:

“Some are born to love a mother who devours her young, a nation that destroys her own…”

A. Igoni Barrett, Blackass

My rating: ⭐⭐

Recommended to lovers of:

• African literature/authors
• issue-based/ educational stories