**Note: This article and book contain mentions of sexual abuse and exploitation of minors.** 

“You think you’ll never be a part of things you hate; you think you’re protected somehow, like the rot won’t get to you. Then you wake up one day and you’re chest deep in it.”

Author Akwaeke Emezi’s latest novel takes readers to the dark side of a fictional Nigerian city throughout one action-packed weekend. After four years of dating, Aima and Kalu broke up. While Aima attempts to ease her heartbreak with a night of partying with friends, Kalu finds himself at an elite sex party thrown by a close friend. When Kalu is exposed to the sinister side of these parties, he is transported into a perilous situation that sets off a chain of events. Rounding off the characters are Ahmed, a nefarious playboy with hidden desires, and Ola and Souraya, two sex workers thrown into the chaos of the weekend. While the beginning of this novel feels like the start of a generic romance story, Emezi manages to turn it into an anxiety-reducing read within the first 50 pages.

It is near impossible to read this novel without feeling pure disgust. There are graphic descriptions of sexual abuse and exploitation, including that of underaged characters. In the epigraph, Emezi writes that this is “to those of us who cannot help but look at true things.” Emezi wants to show the audience a harsh reality, even if that means making them feel repulsed, a pattern found throughout their writing. In an interview with Elle magazine, Emezi reiterated the epigraph and responded to criticism some readers take up with the dark subject matter, stating, “I think there’s a media literacy issue that we’re experiencing everywhere where people think that because you write about something, it means you’re condoning it. I write about it because it happens.”

It’s clear Emezi isn’t condoning abuse. In tense prose, Emezi succeeds at showcasing the grim intersection of power, corruption, and sexuality as the audience is pulled farther and farther into the dark shadows of society. There isn’t anything shiny or glorifying here. Emezi forces the characters and readers alike to acknowledge a truth we chose to look away from. At one point, Ahmed calls Kalu out for regularly ignoring corruption and abuse. It isn’t until Kalu is a witness to it himself that he begins to pay attention. 

But while exposing the truth, “Little Rot” doesn’t escape accusations of being shock value or trauma porn Emezi begs the question, when writing about dark subjects, is there a limit on how far a writer should go? Can a novel be meant to show bleak realities but also employ shock as a literary device? What if surprising the audience is the only way to get people to listen?

The plot is what primarily drives Little Rot. The characters come off as strong at the beginning as readers learn their backstory. Yet somewhere along the way, they begin to feel flat and almost unnecessary. Readers first follow Aima’s perspective but by the end of the novel she feels like a side character compared to the rest. Other characters such as Ola and Souraya, feel underdeveloped despite having the most interesting perspectives to offer the audience. 

The characters in this story live up to the book’s title. There is a rottenness in each of them, motivating and trapping them. If you like novels where the characters are likable, this isn’t for you. There is no promise of redemption or resolution which stays in tune with Emezi wanting to show the truth. In real life, nobody experiences the events of this book and rides into the sunset, and neither do the characters here.