On the Liminality of Loss
Someday, Maybe is a stirring, meditative debut that examines grief at close range.
As a quick note to readers, today’s issue contains discussions of suicide, death of a spouse, and grief.
Eve is married to the love of her life, and despite their squabbles and disagreements, they lead a more or less happy existence. But when her husband Quentin takes his own life and she discovers his body on New Year’s Eve, Eve is left with a shattered heart and endless unanswered questions, chief of which is how she failed to see Quentin’s suffering.
Onyi Nwabineli’s Someday, Maybe is a raw examination of the depths of loss, the echoing hallways of memory, and the bonds of family. While Eve struggles to come to terms with the unexpected and traumatic loss of her husband, her family attempts to rally around her, but not all of their efforts are helpful or wanted. Nwabineli considers the ways in which culture and religion can shape family and community responses to grief. Although there is no doubt that Eve’s close-knit Nigerian British family loves Eve to great lengths, throughout the novel Eve’s parents and siblings express dismay, frustration, and even anxiety at her slow slog through the thick, oppressive miasma of grief. Eve’s young niece and nephew constantly ask when she will return to some semblance of “normalcy,” and when Eve’s brother asks if she will ever want to be happy again, much less be happy again, Eve responds simply: “Someday. Maybe.”
“People think because you have cried in their presence, they have witnessed real grief. They are content to sit across from you, hand you a Kleenex and cluck sympathetically while you dab at the tears and lower your eyes in meek appreciation of their company. . . . Grief is not neat. Pain is not dignified. Both are ugly, visceral things. They rip holes through you and burst forth when they see fit. They are constant, controlling companions, and if they don’t destroy you or your relationships with others, they certainly go a long way to damaging you, disfiguring you internally and altering your existence so much so that when you are lucid enough to look at yourself, at your life, you are astounded (and often disgusted) by what you find staring back at you.”
Near the heart of Someday, Maybe lies a poignant critique of society’s dealings with grief: we expect others’ loss to be compartmentalized to the innermost chambers of their hearts; we treat bereaved colleagues as fragile, ailing things while at the same time distancing ourselves from the messiness of their pain. Some will make attempts at soothing all while wondering how long this period of mourning will last. Ours is a society that prefers tied-up loose ends, unwilling to make space or time for those who wander the corridors of grief.
Even in her construction of the narrative, Nwabineli underscores that grief is not bound by human conceptions of time or space—grief forces us to flip through the pages of our memories regardless of whether we’d like to. Someday, Maybe moves between the past and the present, between Eve’s budding relationship with Quentin, her at-times tumultuous marriage, and the After. Like a smooth stone in hand, Eve constantly turns over the many memories she shared with Quentin; while she may never get the answers she seeks, she is left with a fuller image of the humanity of both herself and her late husband.
If you’re looking for a book with lots of plot—in fact, if you’re looking for a book with any semblance of plot at all—you won’t find that here. Instead, Someday, Maybe is a book that slowly ambles through loss and personal history at the griever’s own pace. Rather than asking when one arrives at the other side of grief, it considers whether there’s an “other side” at all. This is a slow, thoughtful read that pays off tremendously if you give it the time.
Other books that examine grief, including memoirs and fiction:
The Dead Are Gods by Eirinie Carson
Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
The Furrows by Namwali Serpell
Maame by Jessica George
Stay True by Hua Hsu (a recent Pulitzer Prize winner!)
Seeing Ghosts by Kat Chow (on my ever-growing TBR!)
You Made a Fool of Death With Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi
If you or a loved one is struggling with suicidal ideation, there are resources available to help you through your crisis. Know that you matter, you are deeply loved, and you are not alone.
Suicide & Crisis Prevention Lifeline - call or text 988 for support, or start a chat with the lifeline here.