Oyinkan Braithwaite's ​My Sister, the Serial Killer

Reviewed by Gitura Kihuria

(Penguin Random House, 2019)

I've just finished reading Oyinkan Braithwaite’s novel My Sister, the Serial Killer. It won the 2019 LA Times Award for Best Crime Thriller, the 2019 Morning News Tournament of Books, the 2019 Amazon Publishing Reader's Award for Best Debut Novel and the 2019 Anthony Award for Best First Novel. It was also shortlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction and long-listed for both the 2019 Booker Prize and the 2020 Dublin Literary Award.

Fast-paced, darkly humorous, and utterly captivating, the book will keep you hooked to the final page and leave you with the satisfaction of having read a truly original work of fiction.

The striking book cover—with a reflection of a dagger in a woman's dark glasses—first drew me in, but what set this novel apart from the usual murder story was its perspective. Instead of the familiar trope of women as victims at the hands of psychopathic men, here we are compelled to follow a female killer—and the sister who cleans up after her.

At its heart, the story follows two protagonists bound by blood, trauma, and loyalty. Korede, a dedicated head nurse, self-conscious of her average beauty, is kind-hearted, her life defined by duty and discipline. Her younger sister Ayoola, in contrast, is an arrestingly beautiful (like the mythical sirens) fashion designer and Instagram influencer who leaves a trail of dead boyfriends behind her. Unlike a stereotypical sociopath, Ayoola comes across as almost childlike—oblivious, charming, and disturbingly unbothered by her crimes. One moment she consoles the grieving sister of one of her victims with disarming tenderness, the next she’s dancing joyfully to Whitney Houston's song “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”, untouched by guilt:

Ayoola takes another lick of the ice cream (after innocently asking the victim's sister if she thinks her brother is dead) then pulls Peju into an embrace with her free arm. She rubs Peju's back as she cries.

"It'll be alright. It will be alright in the end," Ayoola murmurs to her.

Peju needed to be released from the crushing burden of hope that Femi could still be alive and Ayoola was the only one willing to do it.

Through this dynamic story, Braithwaite explores themes of family trauma and twisted loyalty. The sisters’ late father—a harsh, unfaithful man to their mother —casts a long shadow over their lives, shaping both their bond and their dysfunction. Korede, sworn to preserve life as a nurse, nevertheless sacrifices morality to protect Ayoola, while their mother’s blind favoritism further enables her youngest daughter’s destructive patterns.

One of the most intriguing elements of the book is Korede’s occasional private confessions to a comatose patient in her hospital ward—a cathartic (both to Korede and readers who sympathise with her predicament) process. It feels like confessing to a priest in the confessional box to atone for one's sins. And that highlights her struggle between duty, guilt, and devotion. This tension comes to a breaking point when a charismatic doctor colleague—whom Korede secretly loves—falls for Ayoola, raising the stakes of loyalty versus desire and threatening to unravel their fragile equilibrium. I will not be a spoiler and say what happens next—you’ll have to grab the book in major bookstores to find out for yourself.
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Soon to be adapted for film, this novel is more than a gripping read—it is a significant work of contemporary fiction that will likely stand as one of the century’s most memorable.

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Gitura Kihuria is an award-winning writer. His short story, “A Dove From No Where Land,” won the Open Forum competition of the Standard newspaper of 30th August, 2008. He also comments on social issues in newspapers and other news sources when compelled to do so. He loves taking nature walks, is a chess and fitness junkie, and is an eclectic reader of different genres, including memoirs. He currently lives and works in Doha, Qatar.