Song for Night. Chris Abani

      “It is to be hoped that Mr. Abani’s fine book finds its proper place in the world … [Abani’s] perception of the world is beyond or outside the common categories of contemporary fiction and he is able to describe what he perceives compellingly and effectively … [Abani captures] the awful, mysterious refusal of life’s discrete pieces to fit.”

       —New York Sun

      “An intensely vivid portrait of Nigeria that switches deftly between rural and urban life.”

       —Boston Globe

      “Singular … Abani has created a charming and complex character, at once pragmatic and philosophical about his lot in life … [and] observes the chaotic tapestry of life in postcolonial Africa with the unjudging eye of a naïve boy.”

       —Philadelphia Inquirer

      “Abani masterfully gives us a young man who is simultaneously brave, heartless, bright, foolish, lustful, and sadly resigned to fate. In short, a perfectly drawn adolescent … Abani’s ear for dialogue and eye for observation lend a lyrical air … In depicting how deeply external politics can affect internal thinking, GraceLand announces itself as a worthy heir to Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. Like that classic of Nigerian literature, it gives a multifaceted, human face to a culture struggling to find its own identity while living with somebody else’s.”

       —Minneapolis Star-Tribune

      “GraceLand is an invaluable document.”

       —San Diego Union-Tribune

      “Remarkable … Chris Abani’s striking new novel, GraceLand, wins the reader with its concept—an Elvis impersonator in Nigeria—and keeps him with strong storytelling and characterization … GraceLand marks the debut of a writer with something important to say.”

       —New Orleans Times-Picayune

      “GraceLand paints an often horrific and sometimes profound portrait … Though a work of fiction, GraceLand also serves as a history far more powerful and fantastic than any official account of Nigeria’s teetering progress toward democracy.”

       —Seattle Weekly

      “The book’s juxtaposition between innocence and bleak survival is heartrending … Sharp, graphic, and impossible to dismiss.”

       —Seattle Times

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      Published by Akashic Books

       ©2006 Chris Abani

      ePUB ISBN-13: 978-1-936070-46-6

      ISBN-13: 978-1-933354-31-6

      ISBN-10: 1-933354-31-3

       Library of Congress Control Number: TK

      All rights reserved

      Akashic Books

       PO Box 1456

      New York, NY 10009

       [email protected]

      www.akashicbooks.com

      Contents

       Title Page

       Copyright Page

Silence Is a Steady Hand, Palm Flat

Night Is a Palm Pulled Down over the Eyes

Death Is Two Fingers Sliding across the Throat

Memory Is a Pattern Cut into an Arm

       Imagination Is a Forefinger between the Eyes

       Dawn Is Two Hands Parting before the Face

       A Funnel Is Fingertips Steepled, Palms Apart

       Danger Is a Deeper Silence

       Love Is a Backhanded Stroke to the Cheek

       Listening Is a Hand Cupping an Ear like a Seashell

       Fish Is a Hand Swimming through the Air

       The Soul Has No Sign

       Ghosts Are a Gentle Breath over Moving Fingers

       Truth Is Forefinger to Tongue Raised Skyward

       Mercy Is a Palm Turning Out from the Heart

       Dreaming Is Hands Held in Prayer over the Nose

       Town Is Hands Making Boxes in the Air

       A Thumb in the Air, Clicking an Imaginary Lighter

       Child’s Play

       A Hand Held like a Pistol

       River Is a Flat Snake

       Shelter Is Hands Protecting the Head

       Music Is Any Dance You Can Pull Off

       Roll Call Is Fingers Counting off a Palm

       Fingers Pinching a Nose Is a Bad Smell

       Dirty Is a Scrunched-up Face and a Palm Waving

       Cowardice Is Spitting Once

       A Question Is a Palm Turning Out from an Ear

       Vision Is the Same As Dreaming

       A Train Is Forearms Back and Forth Like Pistons

       Light Is Jazz Hands and a Smile

       Mother Is Crossed Arms Rocking a Baby

       Rest Is a Chin Held in a Palm

       Fear Is an Open Hand Beating over the Heart

       Will Is an Emphatic Finger Pointing

       Home Is a Palm Fisted to the Heart

       Acknowledgments

       Also by Chris Abani

       Novels

       Masters of the Board

       GraceLand

       The Virgin of Flames

       Novellas

       Becoming Abigail

       Poetry

       Kalakuta Republic

       Daphne’s Lot

       Dog Woman

       Hands Washing Water

       Of course, for Sarah

       And my nephews—Ikenna, Obinna, Chuks, Craig, Carl,