“Because you always seem to want to take what I give you and translate it into something else, something that fits your narrative, you can have it.”“It is an acknowledged truth that to be a girl is to be extracted. Girls, we are taken.”
“And if you’re lost, if you have no idea what I’m talking about… If you’re wondering what the big deal is … It’s browness. It’s being the Other. It’s having to perform. It’s what happens when people are split, when countries are split. I have been performing forever. My own little dance. But I’m going to stop now. You can take it. I’ve been taking it my whole life.”
Nina McConigley’s debut novel, How to Commit a Postcolonial Murder (Pantheon Books 2026 – huge thanks to the publisher for the gifted copy) is a tightly wired explosive device of a narrative. It is an unflinching, in your face, “look at me when I am talking to you” story that side-eyes the reader while at the same time taking the reader’s hand – an unapologetic reassurance that is intentionally uncomfortable. Don’t let the size of the novel fool you – it’ll punch you in the face, and it will leave a mark.
I don’t typically post trigger warnings. I understand why people do, but I typically don’t. You may want to review them if this novel is on your radar; the story centers around the sexual molestation of two young girls by their uncle, and how they kill him. (That’s not really a spoiler. I promise.)
Set in 1986 in Wyoming, and following Georgie and her sister, Agatha, named for their mother’s two favorite writers, How to Commit a Postcolonial Murder has a nostalgic feel of childhood, which makes it hit harder. It’s the power and secrets of sisterhood and girlhood, the generational trauma of colonialism, and the “Otherness” of being brown in America that all combine to make this a powder keg.
This novel is not for everyone, but it’s a top read for me. And an early contender for my Booker predictions.
A Girl Named Tommi 