For nine years, Tobi lived alone in a fourth-floor walk-up above a Polish bakery in a slowly changing Brooklyn neighborhood. The new tenants have re-tiled the kitchen. The bakery downstairs has become a vape shop. Her mother is calling more than usual. And in the apartment directly across the airshaft, a woman has begun playing the same record every Sunday morning at 7:14 a.m.
Adaeze Okonkwo's quiet, watchful first novel is a meditation on what a building remembers and on the polite, terrible work of staying still while everything around you turns. Written across four years and three apartments, it announces a new American novelist with the patience and texture of an older one.
Tobi did not believe she was the kind of person who would still be living, at thirty-eight, in the apartment she had moved into at twenty-nine. She would have said so, if anyone had asked. No one asked. She made her bed in the same room she had made her bed in the morning of her first job, and the morning of her last job, and the morning her father called from Lagos to say her mother had been in a small accident, only the kind of small accident that mothers are in.
The bakery downstairs opened at five. The radiators in the kitchen, the bedroom, and the front room came on at five-fifteen. By five-thirty the smell of yeast and the smell of warm metal had become a single smell, and that smell, more than anything else, was what Tobi understood to mean home.
She had a list of things she was going to do, when she finally moved. The list was on a Post-it on the inside of the medicine cabinet. The Post-it was nine years old.
"A first novel of unusual self-possession. Okonkwo writes the way the best older writers do — without hurry, without strain, and with a kind of moral attention that is almost Russian."
"Tobi is one of the great recent characters in American fiction — watchful, dryly funny, mostly silent — and the apartment that Okonkwo builds around her is as alive as the woman herself. A quietly seismic debut."
"The novel of staying still, finally — and rendered in such fine, even prose that staying still becomes the whole emotional engine. Okonkwo is a major voice arriving fully made."
"Like the best of Mavis Gallant, Adaeze Okonkwo can hold a sentence flat as a window-pane and let weather move across it. This is a novel that knows how to wait."