Book Review: Born in a House of Glass by Chinenye Emezie

Written by Safa Alhassan 

The book "Born in a House of Glass" by Chinenye Emezie is a deeply challenging novel that explores the complexities of family life in a way that can be overwhelmingly intense. The story unfolds with a focus on the life of children growing up with an abusive father and a mother who had no voice. This upbringing lingered into the unfortunate lives the children lived as adults. The story brings readers into a world marked by profound sadness and trauma. For me, it felt like a relentless journey through darkness and emotional pain. I found myself in a foul mood for most of it. It felt like the type of story you would see in a typical Nigerian Nollywood movie – just sadness from start to finish. From the very beginning, I found the narrative difficult to understand, often questioning why anyone would endure such harsh realities. The depiction of family relationships, while authentic, was often unrelentingly cruel and unkind. It’s a stark reflection of some people's reality, which, though unsettling, underscores the novel's raw emotional power. At a point, I even woke up in the middle of the night, picked up the book again, hoping maybe I had judged it wrongly, that something might change. Maybe there would be a moment of happiness to uplift my mood. But no, it just didn’t happen. Instead, the more I read, the more I uncovered layers of triggering episodes, all adding to the weight of the story.

What made the book even more sensitive for me is that it centres around family. When you think of family, you imagine unconditional love, kindness, patience, and generosity. But in this book, it’s the complete opposite. I thought my last read was traumatic, but this one was on a whole new level. It left me exhausted. It also made me realise how often African fiction leans towards themes of sadness, trauma, and cruelty. And if it’s not that, it’s stories about Africans abroad struggling to uphold their culture. Frankly, I’m tired of these repetitive narratives.

The father’s strictness in this book is just absurd. I wouldn't even call that strictness; it’s pure evil and insecurity. There’s a lot of patriarchy and misogyny in the story, with weak men turning into violent abusers. There is so much bitterness and sadness that if that’s what you’re into, then this book is definitely for you. Some people for reasons known to them actually enjoy such. As for me, it brought a lot of bad energy.

That said, it is not a bad book. In fact, I respect the fact that the writer was able to evoke such strong emotions in me. As I have always said, if a writer can make you feel something with their words, it is an achievement. The book isn’t bland; it’s full of emotion, and I am sure you’ll agree that it is impressive how someone’s words can alter your mood. When I read, I immerse myself in the characters’ world, and I felt their energy deeply. Unfortunately, it was just too negative for me and I wasn't prepared to adjust or stay around such. There were moments when I had to put the book down because it stopped making sense why anyone would live that way. It’s uncalled for, cruel, and completely unacceptable. But sadly, it’s the reality for some people.

At the start, the writer reminded me of Chinua Achebe. I loved how she explained Igbo names and the significance behind them. Some names even serve as adages, and it’s beautiful to see how people often live up to the meaning of their names. The Igbo proverbs scattered throughout the book also gave me Achebe vibes. Initially, I was excited. Finally, a Nigerian story that hasn’t been westernised. But my excitement didn’t last long. The book stayed authentically Nigerian, but the story started to lose its appeal, becoming boring at times. The writer seemed to throw in triggering moments to jolt the reader awake.

Since it’s a coming-of-age story, I’d like to think that the writer’s voice as Udom changes from the beginning to the end, reflecting her growth. At one point, I even thought there were two different authors because the tone shifted. But the repetition of certain words convinced me it was the same writer. The start of the book was slow and dull, but the middle picked up, introducing discussions that would actually make you think and reflect, like the debate between friends about traditional versus Christian marriages. It reminded me of a scene in Chimamanda’s "Half of a Yellow Sun", where Odenigbo and his friends had a discussion that was more or less a debate. The book also had echoes of  the book "An Orchestra of Minorities" by Chigozie Obioma. That same elaboration of sadness and melancholy.  Perhaps it's an Igbo thing. It was too intense for me.

One thing I noticed was the inconsistent use of British and American spellings, which shouldn’t have been the case. But I appreciated that the story was told in the first person, allowing me to feel the main character’s emotions deeply, to live through their experiences and interact with the people in their world.

In the end, it’s a decent book. A bit mediocre but still worth reading. If you’re in the mood for a good cry, grab a box of tissues and dive in. Happy reading.