In her razor-sharp debut novel, Nigerian writer Oyinkan Braithwaite delivers a story that is as witty as it is disturbing. “My Sister, The Serial Killer” slices through conventional family drama to present a uniquely twisted tale of sisterly bonds, where love and complicity blend into a potent, dangerous mixture. Set against the bustling backdrop of contemporary Lagos, this slim but powerful novel explores the complex relationship between two sisters: practical, dutiful Korede and her beautiful, lethal younger sister Ayoola.
The premise is immediately gripping: Korede, a meticulous nurse, receives yet another panicked call from her sister, who has just killed her third boyfriend in “self-defense.” As the responsible older sibling, Korede dutifully arrives with bleach, rubber gloves, and a plan to dispose of the body. The novel opens with the chilling line—“Ayoola summons me with these words—Korede, I killed him. I had hoped I would never hear those words again”—and from there, we’re plunged into a world where family loyalty trumps moral considerations, and where beauty grants its possessor an almost supernatural immunity from consequences.
Style and Structure: Surgical Precision
Braithwaite’s prose is remarkably controlled, employing short chapters that feel like swift, precise incisions. The narrative alternates between present-day events and flashbacks to the sisters’ troubled childhood, gradually revealing the traumatic foundation of their bond. Each chapter title is a single word—”Bleach,” “Words,” “Blood”—giving the novel a staccato rhythm that enhances its dark urgency.
The author’s writing style is refreshingly direct, avoiding florid descriptions in favor of clean, uncluttered sentences that heighten the story’s impact. Consider this passage, where Korede reflects on cleaning up after Ayoola’s latest murder:
“I bet you didn’t know that bleach masks the smell of blood. Most people use bleach indiscriminately, assuming it is a catchall product, never taking the time to read the list of ingredients on the back, never taking the time to return to the recently wiped surface to take a closer look. Bleach will disinfect, but it’s not great for cleaning residue, so I use it only after I have first scrubbed the bathroom of all traces of life, and death.”
This methodical, almost clinical voice perfectly captures Korede’s character while establishing the novel’s darkly humorous tone. At just over 200 pages, the novel is tightly constructed, with no wasted scenes or dialogue—Braithwaite demonstrates the same efficiency her protagonist employs when disposing of bodies.
Character Dynamics: Beauty and the Burden
The heart of the novel lies in its exploration of the sisters’ relationship. Korede, tall, plain, and painfully responsible, exists in the shadow of her exquisite younger sister. The author brilliantly employs physical contrasts to highlight their different natures:
“Her dreadlocks shield her face, but I don’t need to see her to know she is chewing her lip and her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration…
Ayoola would break a glass, and I would receive the blame for giving her the drink. Ayoola would fail a class, and I would be blamed for not coaching her. Ayoola would take an apple and leave the store without paying for it, and I would be blamed for letting her get hungry.”
Through Korede’s piercing first-person narration, we witness the lifelong pattern of her cleaning up after Ayoola—literally and figuratively. Ayoola embodies a fascinating archetype: the beautiful sociopath whose looks grant her immunity from suspicion. She dances to Whitney Houston after stabbing a man, posts selfies while supposedly mourning her missing boyfriend, and manipulates everyone around her with frightening ease.
What makes the sisters’ dynamic so compelling is that Korede both resents and loves Ayoola. She recognizes her sister’s dangerous nature even as she enables it, trapped in patterns established during their abusive childhood. Braithwaite resists simplistic psychological explanations, instead letting readers piece together the origins of both Ayoola’s violence and Korede’s complicity.
Themes: Beauty, Power, and Society
Beyond the thrilling murder plot, “My Sister, The Serial Killer” offers sharp social commentary on:
Beauty as currency: The novel ruthlessly examines how physical attractiveness functions as a protective shield. Ayoola’s beauty blinds everyone to her true nature, while Korede’s plainness renders her invisible despite her competence.
Family trauma: The sisters’ childhood under their abusive father casts a long shadow. Through flashbacks, we learn how their father’s violence shaped them, culminating in a pivotal revelation about the knife Ayoola uses to dispatch her boyfriends.
Gender dynamics in Nigerian society: Braithwaite subtly critiques patriarchal structures while avoiding heavy-handed messaging. Men in the novel objectify Ayoola, seeing only her beauty rather than her complete person—a fatal mistake.
Moral complicity: Perhaps most unsettling is how the novel implicates readers in Korede’s moral compromise. We find ourselves understanding, if not condoning, her choices to protect her sister.
The Lagos Setting: Vibrant and Vital
Lagos emerges as much more than a backdrop in this novel. Braithwaite weaves in details of contemporary Nigerian life that add texture and authenticity:
“Traffic plagues this city. It is only 5:15 a.m. and my car is one among many packed tightly on the road, unable to move. My foot is tired of tapping on and off the brake.”
From corrupt traffic officials to social media obsessions, from family compounds to hospital politics, the setting feels vividly realized. The third mainland bridge—where the sisters dispose of bodies—becomes an ominous recurring motif, connecting the city’s everyday reality with the sisters’ dark secrets.
Critical Assessment: Strengths and Weaknesses
Strengths:
The novel’s premise is brilliantly original, blending family drama, psychological thriller, and dark comedy.
Braithwaite’s prose is lean, precise, and darkly funny.
The complex sisterly relationship avoids clichés and easy psychological explanations.
The Lagos setting is richly evoked without resorting to exoticism.
Weaknesses:
Some character motivations, particularly for Ayoola, remain somewhat opaque.
The subplot involving Muhtar, the comatose patient in whom Korede confides, feels slightly underdeveloped.
The ending, while thematically consistent, may leave readers wanting more resolution.
Some secondary characters, like the sisters’ mother, could benefit from further development.
Comparative Context
“My Sister, The Serial Killer” is Braithwaite’s debut novel, but it displays a confidence and control that many established writers would envy. The novel fits into a growing body of contemporary Nigerian literature gaining international recognition, including works by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Akwaeke Emezi, but Braithwaite’s voice is distinctively her own.
In its exploration of a female serial killer and complicated sisterhood, the novel bears comparison to works like “Sharp Objects” by Gillian Flynn, though Braithwaite’s approach is less gothic and more darkly comedic. The novel’s blend of crime, family drama, and social commentary also recalls Patricia Highsmith’s Tom Ripley series, with its unnerving ability to make readers sympathize with morally compromised characters.
Final Verdict: A Cut Above
“My Sister, The Serial Killer” succeeds as both a taut psychological thriller and a nuanced exploration of sisterly bonds. Its brevity is a strength rather than a limitation—like a well-crafted short story, it delivers its impact with precision and leaves readers wanting more. Braithwaite has created a memorable debut that is both entertaining and thought-provoking, balancing dark humor with genuine emotional depth.
The novel may not provide the neat resolution some thriller readers expect, but this ambiguity feels intentional rather than evasive. By the final page, we understand that the ties binding Korede to Ayoola—ties of blood, history, and complicity—cannot be easily severed, even when threatened by Korede’s growing conscience.
For readers seeking a fresh, original voice in crime fiction, “My Sister, The Serial Killer” delivers a reading experience as sharp and distinctive as the knife that Ayoola wields. It announces Oyinkan Braithwaite as a significant talent to watch, one who can dissect complex relationships and social dynamics with surgical precision and dark wit.
This compelling debut novel slices through genre conventions to deliver a darkly funny meditation on beauty, family loyalty, and moral compromise. Its few shortcomings are easily forgiven in light of its many strengths. Just as Korede cannot escape her sister’s orbit, readers will find themselves unable to look away from this captivating tale of blood ties that bind.