I admire novels that can so seamlessly blend supernatural elements with the real world to give a new view. In “Creatures of Passage” factors such as hauntings, shapeshifting, the afterlife and psychic powers are presented as entirely natural states of being which are part of these characters' everyday reality. They are represented with as much weight as difficult concrete issues such as alcoholism, poverty, drug abuse, child abuse and racial inequality. By doing so Morowa Yejide conveys the powerful sense and viewpoint of a disenfranchised community while also relating an extremely compelling and creative story. The novel is set in the late 1970s and at its centre is Nephthys Kinwell who provides a form of taxi service in Washington DC. However, her passengers don't summon her with an app or hail her by the roadside. Instead she senses how they are at a volatile place and in need so she drives them from one place to the next. At the same time, she's burdened with the loss of her twin brother who was killed in a racist attack and she continuously drinks from a hip flask. When she gets an unexpected visit from her great-nephew Dash, she discovers there might be a way to save this boy from a dire fate that's been foretold and reconnect with her lost sibling Osiris. Along the way we meet a number of her distressed passengers and learn about a twisted individual who has been persistently preying on vulnerable children in the community. It's an extremely solemn and disquieting tale whose wondrous elements build their own logic to give an utterly unique perspective.

Small details such as how the names of places are described convey how these characters are part of America but feel separate from it. For instance, states are never simply named but are presented as the “Kingdom of Maryland” or the “Kingdom of Alaska”. This emphasises the sense that these are lands that have been colonized and it's described early in the novel how Nephthys' familial territories of the Gullah people has been permanently lost. Throughout the novel there's a persistent sense of how communities from the past have dwindled and that in the future there will be more marginalization: “there would be latter-day nationalists and citizen circles and patriots, who from the forgotten fiefdoms of the territories heard the claxon bells of an orange-skinned king. And they would clamor ever louder to end the bloodlines of others to stem the end of their own.” So the characters of this story exist in a present which straddles this line between a past and future where they aren't a part of the country's dominant narrative. Therefore it's meaningful how Yejide presents the way they dwell in a liminal space with their own beliefs and conception of reality which is separate from that of the larger nation.

While I appreciated these powerful elements and felt completely drawn into this tale, I had some issues with certain aspects of the novel. Often as soon as mysteries such as Osiris' death or the unspeakable thing which Dash witnessed were presented the narrative explicitly details what happened. So at times the author over-explains parts which could have been simply referenced and more subtly referred to. I feel like it could have been more powerful if an understanding of these traumatic events were conveyed gradually. For instance, the way in which the ghost of a white girl exists in the trunk of Nephthys' car making subtle noises throughout the other characters' journeys had a more potent cumulative effect. Also I was less convinced by a character named Red's story which felt somewhat rushed and seemed more for the benefit of the overall plot than giving integrity to the sense of guilt he possesses. But these are relatively small quibbles I had with the book as in general I was very moved by the atmospheric and uncanny elements of the story. I especially admired the vengeful celestial journey of Osiris and the way in which Nephthys' niece Amber lives a kind of fairy tale existence tending large vegetables in the moonlight. Overall, reading this novel is a striking and memorable experience.

One of the things I enjoy most about following the Women’s Prize for Fiction each year is that it always brings to my attention a number of books I might not have come across otherwise and almost certainly wouldn’t have read. Bernice L. McFadden is an American writer who has published several well regarded novels and a number of romance novels under the name Geneva Holliday, but she hasn’t been widely reviewed in the UK and this is the first of her novels that I’ve read. “Praise Song for the Butterflies” is the story of Abeo Kata who is raised in the fictional West African location of Port Masi, Ukemby. She lives in a comfortable middle class home with her doting parents Wasik who works for the treasury department and Ismae who is a former model. Her conservative old grandmother comes to live with them and shortly after this her father Wasik is falsely accused of embezzling money from the government and allegations of political corruption. With the grandmother’s encouragement Wasik comes to believe he’s been cursed and the only way to alleviate this condition is to “sacrifice” his seven year old daughter by leaving her at a rural Temple where she’s subjected to the most brutal treatment and forced into slave labour under the guise of spiritual servitude. The novel follows Abeo’s harrowing journey from being cast aside to a point where she can determine her own future. It’s a captivating, skilfully written tale which touches upon a number of pertinent and meaningful issues.

One of the most admirable things about this novel is the great economy of the author’s prose. McFadden writes short punchy chapters which have enough detail to really spark the reader’s imagination but which keep the story moving at a brisk pace. There are also several breath-taking twists to the story which make it a riveting read. Of course, writing in this way sacrifices some nuance and complexity which means certain aspects of the story don’t go into as much depth on certain topics as their enormity warrants. There are also occasions where it feels like McFadden relies a bit too heavily on coincidence and chance meetings to keep the plot moving. But overall it’s such a riveting story these minor quibbles hardly matter and I appreciate how vividly she forms a portrait of Abeo’s character and her perilous situation.

I also like how McFadden can make you second-guess your expectations and understanding of certain characters. The grandmother comes across as a benignly ornery and (almost comically) old fashioned presence until her intrusions have dire repercussions. Equally, Abeo’s American Aunt Serafine who makes annual visits to the Kata family comes across as such a benevolent and lively person until more complex aspects to her personality are eventually revealed. The author also has a graceful way of shifting perspective in the narrative so the story moves seamlessly between Abeo’s dramatic story, her mother Ismae’s plight and that of an African American philanthropist who establishes a centre for girls like Abeo (known as trokosi) to recuperate from their trauma. It takes real talent to compose a short novel that has so many sides and covers many years without making it feel too unwieldy.

It’s interesting how the story offers such a different perspective on slavery by highlighting how there can be modern instances of enforced labour which are simply called by another name. When Abeo’s Aunt Serafine and her friend visit Ukemby one year they take the family a trip to one of the infamous “slave castles” in what was known as the Gold Coast of West Africa. These sites have become pilgrimage spots for many descendants of the African diaspora and have featured in many novels from “Homegoing” to “Swing Time”. But the story which follows this visit offers such a different perspective on that heritage and how we can be blind to modern instances of slavery.

Since I’ve read this novel in the context of the Women’s Prize it’s also interesting comparing it to another nominated book on the list “Freshwater” by Akwaeke Emezi. I feel like these two novels offer such fascinating contrasts in contemplating African American experience in relation to heritage and modern African society. Where “Praise Song for the Butterflies” severely scrutinizes some patriarchal African practices and superstitions, “Freshwater” seeks out African traditions and belief systems to arrive at a more cohesive sense of being. Of course, these aren’t necessarily oppositional points of view but simply show the broad spectrum of African society which exists and what a complex relationship forms between African Americans and the continent of Africa itself when exploring issues to do with national and racial identity.

Overall, this novel contains such a compelling tale of survival and dynamically explores the meaning of family. Bernice L. McFadden has such admirable control in how she paces and evokes a story that I’m so glad I’ve read this novel and will eagerly read more of her books in the future.