Title: David Mogo, Godhunter
Author: Suyi Davies Okungbowa
Publication Date: July 9, 2019
Publisher: Abaddon Books
Format: NetGalley eARC

I have been dying for a book in which the pantheon of Orisha gods get to run amok in all their glory, and this didn’t disappoint.

I first learned about the Orisha years ago from James C. Lewis’ photo series Yorùbá African Orishas, in which he conceptualized the deities. I loved the diversity so much, and when I started reading more about them, I thought, heck, why aren’t more stories written about these gods?! They’re hella interesting and more than a little scary. But in a good way.

David Mogo, Godhunter reinvents Lagos as a post-apocalyptic world in which the Orishas have fallen from Orun and now David Mogo (demigod, Godhunter, master of sarcasm, and now unwilling hero) must keep them from destroying Earth.

You know, as you do. While this book wasn’t quite everything I had hoped for, it was a really interesting read and full of life, culture, and fighting, which is always fun.

❧ This is an #ownvoices story, and it shows. Okungbowa spins a masterful portrait of a post-apocalyptic Lagos, blended with all the fierceness of the Orisha.

There were so many aspects of this that I loved, and of course, this is going to be a double-edged sword. On the one hand, Lagos felt real to me, some schmuck sitting in nowhere America who’s never even thought of visiting Nigeria. On the other hand, were there things I had to look up? Sure. For me, that’s part of what I love about reading about other cultures, but if you get easily annoyed at that, this will probably be more of a con.

Part of what I loved the most was the obvious code-switching in the dialogue. Nigeria is a country of many languages, and things like pidgin, English, Yoruba, and Nsibidi all make an appearance in the story.

As a linguaphile, I just loved the richness this brought to the story (and also, code switching is real and beautiful but also sometimes frustrating and oh, the struggle is real and so relatable). I’m also not entirely unfamiliar with these languages, so it wasn’t a huge stretch for me to comfortably slip into the pidgin that was spoken. However, I can see this being difficult for some, and if this isn’t your sort of thing, it may end up being a big turn-off, as it’s pretty pervasive and there’s no translation.

❧ At its core, David Mogo, Godhunter is a Bildungsroman for the slightly older crowd. Because we older people also deserve to find ourselves.

Typically, people associate Bildungsroman, or coming-of-age, stories with, well, teenagers and those coming of age. Sort of is right there in the title, I suppose. But really, how many of us know who we are when we’re 18? Or 21? Heck, I’m pushing 30 and I still haven’t completely figured myself out. I could still grow up to be a wizard. Or a ninja. Or a dragon. You don’t know.

I’m actually not sure exactly how old David Mogo is, but I’d say right around 30. So he’s not quite young, but not quite old. It’s a perfect time for self-discovery.

For David Mogo, finding himself is a teensy bit harder than the rest of us, because he’s sort of a demigod fighting a war against gods and by the way, if he fails, Earth is doomed.

No pressure. I actually think the high stakes made the self-discovery all the more poignant, because it’s not like he can just take his time. Lagos is sort of crumbling around him, quite literally.

❧ I am all about reluctant heroes, and David Mogo is about as reluctant as they come.

He didn’t sign up for this. Any of it. I mean, he’s doing his best, and I applaud him for that, but dang, it’s such a hassle. And he’s just one man.

What I loved most about David’s reluctance is that he genuinely tries to do what he figures is the right thing. But when it inevitably fails (because of course it does), man knows how to grumble.

Like only a 30-ish-year-old could, because we have had practice. But we’re not quite at the whippersnappers these days stage just yet. I like to call it realistic pessimism. You’re just enough of a realist to know when things are going to go sideways and everything’s not all coming up aces.

❧ The writing is really descriptive and beautiful, and there were so many images that I just loved.

It wasn’t entirely pervasive. The prose wasn’t all purpley or anything, and the majority of the book read really easily. But every now and then, there was a zinger of a line that really made me stop and think about the description, because I just loved the image it conjured and the way it sounded. I think I would’ve gotten fatigued if it was all written like that, but it was there just enough to paint an interesting picture.

There’s fantastic lines like, “Cardoso House is a dragon, puffing death and destruction from the depths of its belly.”

❧ Papa Udi is a treasure and says all the things we were all thinking.

In some ways, he’s the typical mentor archetype. He’s David’s moral compass, his literal guardian, the man who’s tried to teach him what he needs to know, etc. But he’s also so much more than that.

Despite being extremely old, Papa Udi doesn’t just kick back and let the youngsters handle things. He’s right there on the front lines and plays a pivotal role in the story and in the action. Old guy can hold his own.

Plus, he says what we’re all thinking. He’s a bit of a stereotypical old guy in that sense, because the older you get, the more your filter wears thin. There were plenty of times where he said just the right thing in the background to make me laugh at his cynicism and accuracy.

❧ The magic system in this book is so nuanced and detailed. There are different kinds of magic, each unique and with its own powers and limitations.

For David, obviously, being a demigod, he has considerable Godessence, which is derived from the Ashe the Yoruba have. It’s a dulled down version, though, since it’s mixed with human (gosh, we ruin everything, don’t we?). But even the Yoruba have different methods of power (you know, as you do with gods that reign over various realms) like Ibeji with their chanting and charmcasting and Sango with his lightning. Yes, Sango is the Yoruban version of Thor. Except replace Mjolnir with a double-headed axe and add fire.

For humans, there’s plenty of different charms that can be made, with a basis in charmcasting, herbs, runes, etc. I enjoyed reading all the different forms this could take.

❧ Can we take a second here to appreciate the Orisha, since that’s really what I came here for? They have personality, and it’s not always a good thing.

If you’ve never read about the Orisha … well, for me, it’s sometimes hard to find the stories, but if you can, it’s so worth it. Talk about an interesting pantheon. What always drew me to them was that they had so much personality (much like the Greek gods) and such rich lore. This book really stayed true to that, so let me introduce you to them as far as the story right quick.

✿ Ibeji: The twins Taiwo (who is a proper academic but also realist who isn’t afraid to keep it real) and Kehinde (the more practical of the two, more no-nonsense, and always happy to tell it like it is).
✿ Olokun: Old water god, who’s more of a protector, but can obviously still hold her own when necessary.
✿ Aganju: Maybe a little mad scientist. Clearly a genius. Less brawn, more brain (the opposite of his brother, Sango). Strategist. Obviously the hero of his own story, villain of David’s.
✿ Sango: All muscle, no brain. Sounds about right for a god of lightning, yeah? Super powerful, though.
✿ Eshu: The Orisha version of a trickster god, plus a messenger god, all rolled into one. Not sure who decided that was a good combination, but he was one of my favorite Orisha because he’s complex and has layers and plays all sides, but mostly his own.
✿ Ogun: Goddess of war and chaos who’s aging and has become battle weary, even though she can’t give up the fight just yet. Probably will be the first god to ever retire if given the chance.

❧ This book is told in three acts (Godhunter, Firebringer, and Warmonger) which all do tie into the main story, but each has its separate arcs and can be taken as their own little novellas, with time gaps in between. So to me, this book felt a bit episodic.

When Firebringer and Warmonger start, it takes some time to get acclimated back to the story, which is very jarring because at that point, it’s already one- to two-thirds of the way into the dang thing. However, each opens like a new story. Firebringer even introduces power that I wasn’t aware David had, though he acted like he did all along and it was just stronger (so maybe I missed something?). Not that there’s anything wrong with this particular approach, but for me, the book didn’t feel particularly cohesive.

❧ As beautiful as the writing is, I think there were times when it reached a little too far with the imagery, which abruptly yanked me out of the story.

There’s nothing like going with the flow and suddenly you run smack into a big rock and wonder what the heck happened and why you suddenly have a headache. There were times I felt like that reading this, because some of the figurative language just caught me so off-guard and tripped me up and sounded a little wonky to me. Here were a few that really stood out to me:

✿ “Her hair is wild and fire and coral and sea. The image is sharp and imprinted in my brain.”
That makes one of us. I’m not sure how it’s fire and sea at the same time. It hurts my head.

✿ “It feels like someone is pulling my skin out of my body. My bones ache like a wisdom tooth.”
This is just … eh? I mean, sure, I’ve had a toothache. I’ve also bruised a bone. They ached pretty evenly. I’m not sure this specificity was necessary, and it tripped me up trying to figure out if they were different.

✿ “Tonight though, it’s because my body aches like I was built by angry carpenters.”
I just don’t understand this one. Not even remotely. What’s the difference between angry carpenters and regular carpenters? Once something is built, it’s built. It’s not like the disposition of the carpenter is transferred to whatever they were building. Although, that’d make a heck of a fun plot point. Quick, someone write that! I assume it’s the idea of being nailed at with a lot of force, but that just didn’t immediately come across to me, and again, it pulled me out of the story.

✿ “Sweat stings my eyes like mosquitoes.”
This just makes me think of a swarm of mosquitoes biting someone’s eyeballs. Because they bite, not sting. I know what he means, but again, I don’t feel like this adds anything. I know what sweat stinging your eyes means. I know how it feels. It hurts. To me, mosquitoes evoke itching and annoyance rather than pain. Maybe I’m just weird.

❧ I just could not, for the life of me, get into this story, and I’m not even sure why.

I think maybe it was a combination of the following factors:

✿ Exposition: There’s a lot of this. Despite being written in first person present tense, the story just didn’t feel immediate or accessible. I always felt at an arm’s length to what was going on, and I think that’s because a lot of what happened was told through exposition rather than action.

✿ Travel: There is a lot of traveling in this, in detail. Which on the plus side, for those who love to draw mental maps, it makes it easier to understand Lagos. But for me? I don’t picture an overall setting in that much detail, so it just dragged for me and really slowed down the story, in my opinion.

✿ Time Skips: These were jarring, and often, I felt left behind and had to reorient myself all over again.

❧ I don’t always understand David Mogo’s choices. They sometimes feel like they come out of nowhere, only for the purpose of driving the plot, without having any explanation for them.

Case in point: early on in the book, David is tasked with what we’ll call Quest A. If Quest A fails, the world goes to shit. This is pretty well established. You’d think he’d be super motivated to make sure Quest A succeeds no matter what, right?

Wrong. Instead of completing Quest A, he’s derailed early on by saving a character he’s met once and it hinted that he was interested in her, but they never actually really interacted. So he completely abandons Quest A to get the damsel in distress (whom he doesn’t know) to safety because he’s sure that someone else will take care of making sure Quest A goes fine.

Umm … what?! There are several little moments like this that frustrated me, because there wasn’t really a lot of David’s reasoning in the moment (even though the story is from his perspective).

Have you read this yet? What did you think? What pantheon of gods do you wish people would write more books about?