Claire Francis Reviews Francesca Ekwuyasi’s Butter Honey Pig Bread

Francesca Ekwuyasi. Butter Honey Pig Bread. Arsenal Pulp Press. $23.95, 316 pp., ISBN 978-1-55152-823-6

How can one best explain the way Francesca Ekwuyasi writes? Butter Honey Pig Bread, her brilliant debut novel, is a symphony of literary style and storytelling. Her work can make an avid reader remember that their first love was language. To witness words strung together in such a natural, melodious way is a blessing. And to find a protean tapestry so effortlessly bound together in a single volume is a gift.

The story focuses on a Nigerian mother, Kambirinachi, and her twin daughters, Kehinde and Taiye. In the twins’ childhood, a trauma occurs, which fractures their sisterly bond. Over the years, the twins grow and reside in different countries. We witness them exploring their careers and relationships in different cities, including Montreal and Halifax. Yet all the while, the spectre of the reason for their strained relationship lingers. Eventually, after a long period of separation, they reunite with their mother in Lagos. It is there that they end up confronting the circumstances that first prompted their rift.

In literature, some stories contain leitmotifs — recurring elements that blend into a tale’s atmosphere. This novel contains a few — spirituality, the supernatural, and family are all featured in intriguing ways. But one delightfully unexpected, significant element in Butter Honey Pig Bread is its exploration of food. As a part of her journey, Taiye becomes a trained chef. Her culinary contributions, along with those of other characters, artfully support the idea of cuisine as more than sustenance, but an expressive device. This is one of the many ways in which this book manages to endear itself to its readers. In one passage in particular, you might find yourself reflecting on this year’s pandemic as you consider Taiye’s latest muse, and think, “Ah, breadmaking. The habit of those whose souls are grieved.”

Yet Taiye doesn’t only teach readers about the food we eat. Ekwuyasi’s prose gives us some interesting food for thought. Consider the popular notion of people as spiritual beings having a physical experience:

You are made unbound, birthed from everything glorious and fermented and fertile and free. Unbound. You visit this binding, this flesh cage. It’s sacred and robust but a cage nonetheless. You visit because it’s your nature. The visitations blind you, yes, but they also pierce new eyes into you, and you see you see you see. 

This novel is rife with fertile soil. Although at times its supernatural encounters may catch one by surprise, they are always a delight.

One of the most compelling elements of Butter Honey Pig Bread is the way that it explores trauma. Ekwuyasi does not tie pain up in a bow and endeavour to solve it through the use of cloying cliches. Instead, her work honours its thorny reality. 

As the book comes to an end, the weight of its impact lingers. Butter Honey Pig Bread is more than a book — it’s an experience. Unsurprisingly, it has been longlisted  for the Scotiabank Giller Prize. It deserves to win that, and more.

Claire Francis is a writer from southern Ontario, Canada. Her work has been published both on and offline, in publications such as THIS Magazine, MarQuee Magazine, and Healthline. She’s always loved the written word, and as time goes on, she looks forward to digging into her literary roots.