In Her Debut Novel, Esther Ifesinachi Okonkwo Expands the Nigerian Immigrant Experience

It is from this feeling of existential cluelessness that she created the emotional composition of Somkelechukwu, the main character in The Tiny Things Are Heavier, her stunning debut novel about a Nigerian immigrant woman and her convoluted journey towards self-discovery.

When we first meet Somkelechukwu, who is affectionately referred to as Sommy in the book, she is entering a new country and a new life. In her early twenties, Sommy is at once in awe of everything in this new world and also seriously disoriented by the life that has thrust her into it.

In Tiny Things, Okonkwo writes with impeccable observation of the quirks that define human nature. Nothing escapes her sharp gaze, from the way a character perceives the smell in their space to the way monumental events disrupt their self-perception.

Okonkwo's writing is often taut and skillfully restrained, even when dissecting a seemingly minor detail for long paragraphs. Her ability to transform small complications into compelling philosophical arguments is masterful and impressive. It's what makes this book wise and thoughtful. Also present is Okonkwo's understanding of how national tragedies impact the lives of young Nigerians.

"The book started to form for me during the #EndSARS movement," Okonkwo explains. "I then began to think about the ways that these sorts of big structures can shape your life, can shape the way you love, can shape the way you interact with people, and can even shape the chemicals in your brain."

Okonkwo's work joins a list of many art pieces that have been born from the #EndSARS protests that claimed the lives of many Nigerians who were shot at by military officers. What Okonkwo does in her debut is settle on the disappointment and sense of despair that comes from living in a country without systems, a country that has its hands on your back, pushing you to run as far as you can.

A coming of age

On the face of it, "The Tiny Things Are Heavier" could be described as a story about migration. It does feature a lot of movement and the feelings of displacement that come with it. A closer look, however, will reveal that migration functions here as a feature, rather than the heart of the story. More pressing are issues of human character: how do we perceive ourselves and our capacity to be good or bad, the book asks. Who are we when cultural expectations no longer shape our identity?

Sommy's ability to have her leg between two worlds shifts her sense of privilege and her sense of self. While in the United States, she is forced to grapple more with why she chose to leave and who she has become as a result of that, and back home, she is faced with the guilt of one who has found a way out. With steady emotional agility, the book shifts between Sommy's complicated relationship with her brother, Mezie, who influences much of her emotional maturity, an even more complicated relationship with her partner, Bryan, with whom she shares a life-altering connection, and her nonexistent relationship with herself.

It's what makes this book a skillfully crafted bildungsroman. "I just didn't want this to be a migrant novel," Okonkwo explains. "I wanted it to be a person trying to move from young adulthood to maturity."

Throughout the book, Sommy faces varying emotional and situational challenges in a way that upsets traditional categorizations of good and bad behavior. In this book, Okonkwo says she aimed to dissect not the categorization of behavior but its ability to exist outside the binary. "I wanted her to go through all that is required to get to an understanding of yourself."

Okonkwo's work arrives at a delicate time in both the U.S and Nigerian politics. Like many of the characters in this book, there is a restlessness among young Nigerians that is drawing their gaze away from their own homes. And in the U.S, stricter immigration policies are bringing up questions of who gets to have a better life and at what cost?

By making the characters exhibit both unkindness and care towards each other, Okonkwo highlights that special ability of humans to live with contradictions.

"I want people to lean into the ugliness of being human. I think that we are so preoccupied with purity in a world that is so impure," Okonkwo says. "Look at the world and look at the things that are happening in the world and the decisions that people are making. They don't come from one big evil act. These are little tiny choices that people make that then lead to all of this sort of destruction that we see. And I think that there is a tendency for us to shy away from those small evils."

Before writing this book, Okonkwo had pieces published in Guernica, VQR, Catapult, and other places. Writing this book was transformative for Okonkwo. Written over the course of four years, Okonkwo, who graduated from the Iowa Writers' Workshop and was a recipient of the Elizabeth George Foundation Grant, wrote herself through a difficult time in her life. "I was terribly unhappy," she says. "I had not seen my family in a long time because I couldn't afford to travel as much as I'd like. My father was ill at one point. I couldn't go back to see him. Normal life challenges, but most of them I had to sort of figure out alone." It was from those feelings of stress and relentless unbelonging that she infused her characters with depth.

At its core, Okonkwo hopes that this book speaks to the times, but also to the complexity of the human condition. "I want us to be more comfortable with our mistakes, owning them, then working to change them."