My Sister, the Serial Killer

The author Oyinkan Braithwaite structures the novel My Sister, the Serial Killer as a series of vignettes usually focused around a single image or event, illuminating it through descriptive and evocative language. The novel contains 76 chapters, each of which bears a title which encapsulates the narrative and emotional gist of the scene depicted. These chapters build up to a coherent narrative as every scene adds to the arc of the story and a layer of meaning. Such unusual structure deconstructs the classical narrative of longer, more traditional novel forms, while adding an element of disturbance within the text, which reflects the story itself. Additionally, the technique is visually effective, since there are as many blank spaces as there are those with text on the pages of the book, echoing the narrator’s struggle to understand her sister’s abnormal behavior.

The protagonist is Korede, who serves as the narrator and central consciousness of the novel. The story begins in medias res (in the middle of things), revealing in Chapter 1 that Ayoola has a history of killing people. The author immediately creates a direct and literal connection with the title of the novel by revealing what in more traditional crime fiction would serve as the denouement. Braithwaite subverts the genre trope and instantly puts the reader inside a world that has perverse, yet very clearly delineated rules. In an African country that has seen a lot of unrest and civil wars and still suffers from endemic corruption, violence and chaos, Ayoola has killed several men, and her sister feels obliged to help her cover the crimes. The author constructs a story that begins with a concrete series of actions that only gain layers of meaning as the novel progresses, mostly through Korede’s questioning of both her sister’s and her own motivations. 

Chapters 2 and 5 reveal how the sisters already have a system for cleaning up crime scenes. Korede is methodical and diligent, and they dispose of the body in a lagoon in a practiced and effective manner. The author structures both characters as being inextricably intertwined from early age, and the fact that Korede now helps Ayoola hide her crimes is just an extension of their unnaturally cohesive bond. Korede offers insight into her own state of mind: “I am not angry. If I am anything, I am tired” (2). Chapter 6 reveals that Korede is a nurse. In the hospital, she takes care of patients, which is what she does for her sister as well. Furthering the irony, as a nurse, Korede preserves human life and provides care; as her sister’s accomplice, she removes all traces of extinguished human existences.

The murdered man, Femi, whom Korede has never met, is at first just another name that Korede writes down in her notebook in Chapter 3. The notebook serves as an objective reminder of what Ayoola does, and it keeps Korede’s mind grounded in the act of commemorating Ayoola’s victims. As the novel progresses, Femi will haunt Korede. He represents all that is wrong with her sister, and he is the first victim whose murder Korede can’t justify as self-defense. A gentle, poetic, meticulous man, one of many who have fallen prey to her sister’s charms, Femi casts Ayoola’s crimes in a light that questions Ayoola’s truthfulness, and her sanity. 

The hospital where Korede works introduces a milieu of bustling activity, punctuated by Korede’s diligence and the laziness of her coworkers. Braithwaite utilizes this setting to emphasize the societal issues in modern day Lagos. The nurses Korede works with bring goods to sell illegally, they sleep on the job, and they get into jealous fights. Similarly, in Chapter 11, Yinka attempts to extract more money from a patient for an unnecessary blood test, and Korede’s resigned response hints this is not unusual. Braithwaite more directly critiques the social by showing how the traffic officer extracts a bribe from Korede in Chapter 10. In her workplace, Korede finds solace in Doctor Tade Otumu, with whom she falls in love, and a comatose patient, Muhtar Yautai, who acts as her impromptu confessor.

Braithwaite portrays Tade through Korede’s loving gaze as she attempts to flirt with him, self-aware of her own average looks compared to the ethereal beauty that is her sister Ayoola. Korede feels both proud and jealous of Ayoola’s looks. Later, aware that she compares unfavorably, Korede wishes to hide her sister away from her workplace, and especially from Tade; she knows Ayoola’s beauty will sway him, and whatever charms Korede may hold will fade. Korede’s jealousy also implies a certain natural bias in Korede as narrator, emphasizing the fact that her thoughts and impressions may be unreliable.

The author accentuates Korede’s inner struggle with the immorality of her behavior through what Korede confides in Muhtar, revealing how troubled Korede is by Ayoola’s growing indifference to her crimes. Muhtar is a burden on his family, which is something to which Korede can relate. The author utilizes the title “The Patient” three times (Chapters 7, 31, and 42) to summarize Korede’s relationship with Muhtar. Later, a chapter dealing with Muhtar will bear the meaningful title of “Friend.”

Chapter 13 introduces Korede and Ayoola’s father, a man who died 10 years before but whose presence still casts a large shadow on the household. The author will dedicate the most direct chapters to exploration of his character, since she positions him as central to the way the sisters have developed. Korede first mentions him in relation to the knife he used to cherish, which Ayoola stole from him the day he died, and which now she uses to kill. In this way, Braithwaite posits a direct link between the father and his treatment of the girls and Ayoola’s behavior.

Korede’s and Ayoola’s mother, who is alive and living with them in their huge house, is a weak, passive figure, echoed in the fact that no chapter bears her name, nor is she the subject of any direct exploration. Her first appearance in Chapter 13 is almost incidental—“Mum wanders in” (22)—indicating that their mother moves through life without real purpose or aim. Korede resents her mother’s preference for Ayoola, whose beauty “took my mother by surprise. She was so thankful that she forgot to keep trying for a boy” (24). Korede’s cynicism touches upon deeply patriarchal Nigerian society where to have two daughters and no sons signals bad luck and shame—unless the daughter possesses Ayoola’s godly beauty.