Nwapa & the Task of Fiction

  The terseness of this short story, if we can be permitted to read it as a short story, is of course one of its best qualities. It is also a quality that seemed to me at first to age it. I realized that this was less an association with a particular movement in our literature (our literature, after all, is totally heterogenous in theme and purpose. It is not new, nor is it 'traditional.' Could it be primeval? Is there a word for it?) What I had, I now believe, was rather a personal association with silence, which, like other spaces in our world, is rapidly being shuttered.
  It was possible, while reading this story by Flora Nwapa, to think. The weight of my own thoughts had become unfamiliar to me. They tire me out. Was that always the case? Where can I find my attention?
  The new Nigerian fiction has a task which it must make its beacon. It must bring us into strong awareness of the spaciousness within and without. I believe it is well suited to meet this task because of its antecedents, but it is up against a formidable and fascinating enemy in the pressures of life under capitalism, our mirrored pen. It is vital not only that we take pleasure in things, but that we seek pleasure out on our own initiative as well, thereby creating it both for ourselves and others.
  The only bounty may be that which we will create now.