Book Review: Here Again Now
Ijeoma Okoye shares thoughts on Nzelu's latest novel Here Again Now.
A review of Okechukwu Nzelu’s Here Again Now. A story exploring themes of missed chances, cycles, and second chances.
By Ijeoma Okoye
I have a clinical fascination with love, so in a way, it's no surprise how affected I was by the wonderful Here Again Now by Okechukwu Nzelu.
Love refracts us; it’s impossible to pass through the experience of it with previous notions of who we are and what we want remaining perfectly intact. Maybe that’s why the universe gives us so many opportunities to try again. It wants us to stumble at first, so that we can do better every time. But how do we make the most of the opportunities we are given when we feel lost?
Here Again Now is a detailed examination of this, exploring themes of missed chances, cycles, and second chances. In the book, two best friends who have known and loved each other almost their entire lives haven’t managed to get to the next level despite their connection. Achike is an actor who has returned to England from Nigeria, having performed in a film titled Here Again Now, based on the Igbo belief about reincarnation. Upon his return to south London, the two most important people in his life move in with him: his best friend and love interest, Ekene (a former actor now struggling to find a job in teaching), and his alcoholic father, Chibueke.
“He wrestles with how he has fallen short as a father and feels restricted by the demands of his masculinity. Simultaneously, he doesn’t fully understand the queerness that exists as a part of his son’s own masculinity. “
Achike, who, through his career, is now much more well off than Ekene, is earnest, gentle, and noble. As a character, Ekene feels more worldly, perhaps because he is so jaded by life, in contrast to Chibueke, who is at sea. He spends a lot of the book navigating his stormy emotional world, regretting how he has let his community down – chiefly, Achike. He wrestles with how he has fallen short as a father and feels restricted by the demands of his masculinity. Simultaneously, he doesn’t fully understand the queerness that exists as a part of his son’s own masculinity.
The relationship between the three men speaks not only to the importance of a community holding space for each other but also to the risk that can come with ascertaining this. There is so much desire as well as an inability to close the emotional distance in Here Again Now, juxtaposed with the physical proximity of the three men in Achike’s home. I was especially moved by the exploration of this in the context of Achike and Chibueke’s complicated father-son relationship. Love is inherent to us—in our chemistry and in our bones—yet it can feel so out of reach. We all know the pain that can come with that distance, and Nzelu captures these types of disappointments well, even the quieter, quotidian ones. One bittersweet moment in the story happens when Ekene shows Achike kindness, yet Achike is unsure of how long it will last.
“As Nzelu explores the relationship between intimacy and black masculinity, he invites us to empathise with and critique the characters while introspectively looking at ourselves. “
Here Again Now not only shows us the beauty of when romantic love and community are intertwined, but also the complexity. This is a theme also explored by Torrey Peters in her novel Detransition, Baby. In her book, the relationship between two of the main characters reflects the freedom that comes with dating someone who knows your heart and who you are because they share parts of your identity. Like Here Again Now, Detransition, Baby doesn’t shy away from portraying the limitations of a common identity. In the end, each of our emotions is unique and ours alone; we must be ready and willing to let people in. And there are a multitude of hurdles to cross before getting to that point.
Achike, Ekene, and Chibueke need intimacy; they all want to be held in some way, and they form a unit of sorts. Despite the familial sense of community between them, they continue to hurt and let each other down. But like a family, they choose to be around each other and keep trying. This brings to mind the “Too late” (SZA)lyrics: ‘I just wanna be loved, loving sucks, I can’t get enough, is it bad that I want more?’
Many people will resonate with and identify with these themes. Here Again Now is great at illustrating the highs and lows of love that are universal; however, this presents itself uniquely when splintered across different contexts. You don't need to be of a particular gender or sexual orientation to feel unseen by the person you love most or carry past wounds that make embracing vulnerability difficult again. These fears and hurts are as ubiquitous as air. When reading, I was conscious of my identity as both black and queer, but not as a woman. Nonetheless, this has not acted as a barrier when connecting the plot. As Nzelu explores the relationship between intimacy and black masculinity, he invites us to empathise with and critique the characters while introspectively looking at ourselves.
For me, the book carries an important message: intimacy and community are steeped with potential for joy and solidarity, but also pain and hurt. Forgiveness, hope, and the willingness to repair mistakes are therefore tools we all need to carry in love.
Here Again Now ends on the question of what heights love can reach after we have missed opportunities to show our loved ones care. The answer is open-ended; when we fail, we simply must try again. We’re reincarnated at different moments throughout the one life we each have. Ursula Le Guin put it best: ‘Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.’