In the lush gardens of contemporary literature, one occasionally encounters blossoms of a rare caliber, whose beauty is not only exhibited through superficial splendor, but primarily through their deeply rooted essence. Regrettably, it is my duty to report that Dense Breaths, the work of Erica Ezeifedi, unfortunately does not belong to this exalted flora. Despite the initial allure of a seemingly captivating premise, this novel falters in its ambition and execution.
Ezeifedi sketches a plot that, as highlighted in the Book Riot article, receives a promising start: an accessible story that unfolds within what appears to be an intriguing narrative framework. The pretensions of diversity and representation are loudly proclaimed, as one would expect in an era where inclusivity forms a crucial pillar of literary works. However, the promise of authenticity and depth soon becomes a hollow momentum that lags behind with each turned page.
It is never the intent of a critic to merely dwell on a work’s shortcomings, yet Dense Breaths invokes such a sense of frustration that it is challenging not to lay bare its flaws unembellished. The characters in the novel are presented with an almost childish simplicity; sterile representations with so few layers that even the thinnest plant cell structure seems more complex. Ezeifedi seems to get lost in her own caricatures, failing to make the deeper emotions and motivations of her characters tangible or believable.
Similarly, the dialogue in Dense Breaths is an experience of bravado and misplaced pathos, where words stack up like hot air without offering any substance. The language used is often forced and artificial, causing the futile attempts at dramatic effect to teeter on the tragic edge of parody. It feels as though Ezeifedi is gripped by a frustrated struggle with words, never truly gaining full control over her own creation.
The plot’s framework is nothing more than a grim echo of countless identical narratives, carefully avoiding drowning in the mire of trivial conventions and worn-out clichés. Ezeifedi attempts to thoughtfully handle themes of significant social weight, such as identity, oppression, and cultural hegemony, but her inability to incorporate nuances results in an unpalatable mass of uninspired tales. This leads the reader to wonder whether any original thought ever sparked in the author’s mind, or if Ezeifedi is merely chasing shadows that have long lost their shine.
One cannot escape the observation that the deeper layers of literary meaning in Dense Breaths remain conspicuously unexplored territory. The interpretative space that a written work should provide to resonate within the subjective experience of the reader is simply absent in this book. It appears more like a superficially painted canvas, lacking the strokes and weathered edges that bring a genuine creation to life.
An essence missing from every word, a nuanced vision that fails to blossom, and a structural weakness that certainly does not compensate for any other shortcoming make this work an unfit contender within the revered annals of literature. Little is left of a promising tale beyond a hollow residue, notable for all that remains unsaid, rather than its flawless narrative outbursts.
Perhaps it is the youthful inexperience of the author, or simply a lack of attention to deep storytelling, that is to blame here. But in a world where literature has the power to elevate the soul and reflect the human condition in all its facets, Dense Breaths, unfortunately, stands as a disappointing sprout in an otherwise promising garden.
Martijn Jongbloed