GLR September-October 2024

At this point, the story subtly shifts from a feeling of warm but shaky safety to one of discovery and danger. Adrift and missing his mother, Obiefuna understands that he is at the school for the duration and is denied a chance to explain things to her. His father even disallows Obi a chance to go home for the holidays, instead sending him to stay with an aunt. Grieving the loss of watching her son mature, Obiefuna’s mother, Uzoamaka, knows that her son has always been gentle and creative, but she doesn’t seem to have the words to describe his sexuality. For his part, Obi never dared to tell her his truth. Instead, as his mother knows and to his father’s everlasting dismay, Obiefuna is constantly, quietly compliant and obedient. Only Anozie knew his son’s truth for sure, and Uzoamaka is powerless to confront or question her husband for most of the story. These things happen in the first few chapters of Blessings . The rest is about Obiefuna’s quest to understand himself and his gayness: learning how to get along with the all-powerful Seniors at the seminary, and discovering that he doesn’t want to be with women at all but that he’ll do almost anything for an other boy. The story picks up briefly when he’s befriended by the cruelest boy, Senior Papilo, who manipulates Obiefuna psy chologically, getting Obi to do his chores in exchange for pro tection and food and an awkward sexual encounter with a girl off school grounds. And then Senior Papilo, in a passage that feels so very abrupt, passes his final exams and moves on, leav ing Obiefuna to continue exploring his sexuality on his own and to finally understand that he is still in love with Aboy, whom he hasn’t seen in a few years and whom Obi longingly wonders what if, as he moves on with his life. It’s here, toward the end of the book that the plot deals with Obi as a wiser, seasoned young man, but the story is told breath lessly, as if our reading time is running out. And that’s too bad: author Chukwuebuka Ibeh, who was born and raised in Nigeria but now resides in the U.S., offers readers a truly great charac ter in Obiefuna, who floats through a life that happens to him, mostly letting others call the shots. This aspect of Obiefuna, the main subject of this tale, seems to ask readers to be sympathetic to the character, which seems highly appropriate because Obiefuna is someone you’ll want to protect. Still, while the tale is interesting and the characters stellar, the plot development is alternately quite fast and snail’s-pace slow, like a driver with a learner’s permit on an open road. A little more fuel to this story would have helped. _______________________________________________________ Terri Schlichenmeyer is a freelance writer based in Wisconsin. &BOOKLOVERS READERS ATTENTION Tim’s Used Books 242 Commercial Street, Provincetown, MA timsusedfilms@gmail.com | 508-487-0005 | Open year-round. Are TIM’S USED BOOKS of Provincetown has been traveling throughout the Northeast since 1991, buying book collections, large and small. Scholarly, gay interest, the arts—all genres. Immediate payment and removal.

The Bolognese

I want to be mysterious & beautiful. I want to have lovers that stride through doorways of small, sexy rooms; their mouths curling with the smell of scented candles burning, unattended, from inside their ensuite bathrooms. Every night, I try to cook my parents the perfect Bolognese, but I get distracted by my longing. We sit at the table without talking. The tablecloth is dyed with red sauce, that will not come off. My father adds salt to every meal, without tasting it. I have burnt the Bolognese. My mother cannot tell me I have burned the Bolognese and I cannot tell my mother I burned the Bolognese, so we eat, without words. They no longer say that being gay is a lonely life. I watch as women on TikTok dance next to their wives. The man behind on the bus says Gay to me when I get off, but I don’t stop. I masturbate with the door unlocked. I dream about love coming in through the window of my childhood bedroom. As I shave my face, all my potential lovers watch me from the mirrors. They speak French to each other & laugh at me because they know. My mother says I am lucky to live in the city. My mother says I am lucky to live in a country where such things are accepted. I do not ask my mother to tell me how lucky I am. I go to the queer film festival and sit in the back row. The theme is “queer and wonderful” The popcorn fills the air. I want to be queer & wonderful but I don’t know how.

F REYA J ACKSON

TheG & LR

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