Transcending Boundaries: FRESHWATER by Akwaeke Emezi

LONGLIST FOR WOMEN'S PRIZE FOR FICTION

13 OF 16 BOOKS FROM LONGLIST READ

There is a saying that works of fiction worry less about facts and more about truth and I have always embraced this axiom when talking about why I am so drawn to the world of literary fiction, defending this form of art from the jaded few who scoff at what they deem fantasies. The best works of fiction, in fact, use fantasy to tell profound and meaningful insights into the human experience, offering us a window into the meanings of life that non-fiction forms aren't always able to. And on occasion a great novel is able to tap into the a question of the moment, at the heart of the zeitgeist, and offer readers a more compelling and convincing portrait than the most well argued polemic or essay ever can.

In many ways, the exhilarating debut novel Freshwater, by Nigerian author Akwaeke Emezi, offers just that, a book we desperately need, a story so intimate and personal to Emezi but that offers a glimpse into an experience society and its occupants need to hear. As troglodyte charlatans like Jordan Peterson try to shame and marginalize those challenging gender dichotomies, Emezi offers a magical and metaphysical, yet also incredibly visceral and corporeal, tale of the how those breaking from societal norms must overcome pathologizing and othering to construct identities of self that reflect who they actually are.

The story centres on Ada, but is largely told through the voices and perspectives of godlike consciousnesses that live inside her brain, a cacophony of external voices that try to control Ada's actions, her sexuality, her will to live, as she journeys to the United States to study and live. Emotionally detached and sexually uninterested, she relies on these consciousnesses to play active roles in her relationships with others, determining her sexual preferences, her most intimate desires, abdicating her own role in these most personal of things. Unsure who she is, what form she should take, Ada lives a life filled with loneliness and depression, resorting to self-harm and self-imposed isolation, until she is able to determine what identities are most representative.

Emezi identifies as non-gender conforming and has described this book as largely autobiographical. But unlike many works of auto fiction, which frankly I often find boring and difficult to tell the fiction part, Emezi uses metaphysical forces and the flourish of the magical to explore the journey they went through, a device not only entrancing while reading but also one that works as an incredibly astute device in describing how ones gender identity is shaped through prolonged struggle between multiple internal voices. But Emezi cuts sharply against attempts to pathologize this process as mental disorder, placing it rather in the realm of a religious experience, spiritual creatures fighting for their control over Ada's body until Ada can take control and affirm the rightful place of all these voices within Ada's identity.

When this book was listed on the Women's Prize for Fiction longlist, it obviously generated significant interest but also controversy after one of the judges suggested that Emezi still identified as a woman when the book was submitted, something Emezi and their publisher have rebuked as inaccurate and misgendering. This has resulted in the Women's Prize deciding to formalize a policy on how it will treat the quickly changing terrain of gender moving forward. Hopefully, some of the reactionary backlash won't cause the Prize to conservatize its approach. The prize in many ways was set up to spotlight works from voices who had been marginalized because of gender and one hopes the prize will embrace this year's decision to include Emezi as the best approach.

That said, I also hope all the attention about who Emezi is does not take too much focus away from what is a remarkable text. Emezi has written a work of fiction filled with flowery and biting prose, easily devoured in only two days (which is very fast for me) that grapples with issues that are obviously reflective of Emezi's experiences but also speak to so much more, namely how we as readers, as a society, should understand the struggle and final outcome of those experiences. Complex in form and style, this book feels not like a debut but a grand accomplishment of a literary veteran. Certainly destined to greatness, I am hoping both this book and Emezi get the due they absolutely deserve.