GraceLand: Final Thoughts

"There was a message in it all somewhere, he mused a point to the chaos. Bu no matter how hard he tried, the meaning always seemed to be out there somewhere beyond his reach, mocking him" (307).

This project was not only a much larger time investment than I could have imagined, but it was equally as much work as it was rewarding. I found myself enjoying the novel much more since I was focusing on smaller chunks of the text, teasing out more detail than I regularly would have. Additionally, writing as I went made me consider things differently than if I had attempted to write one long paper on the book retrospectively. Abani's narrative was as dark as it was beautiful, and the words would sometimes wind themselves into vivid strands of poetry, just to transition into gruesome, unsentimental instances of violence. Upon finishing the book for the second time, I was left with even less of a feeling of hope, but that doesn't bother me. The passage I know that Abani was faithful to his characters by ending it the way he did. I think the above passage indicates perfectly how the novel felt as a whole.

GraceLand

The meaning of the title has several direct and indirect connotations, causing a certain ambiguity that ends up fitting the novel in a very appropriate way. For instance, the song is clearly a reference to Elvis Presley, of whom Elvis Oke is the namesake. But Presley's Graceland is a relic of dated pop iconography, kitsch, and even a gift shop. Graceland comes to be a kind of monolith of bad taste in the American cultural landscape. Nonetheless, it is an important aspect of mass media culture, which America has exported to an incredible degree. 
The other reference that comes to mind is one Abani must certainly have been aware of (Abani is a musician himself), which is the Paul Simon album and song of the same title (below). The lyrics are bittersweet, cataloguing a trip Simon is taking to visit Presley's Graceland Estate. What makes this album especially relevant is the incorporation of several South African musicians, including the group Ladysmith Black Mambazo. The album was recorded in South Africa in 1986, and included many African references and music styles, including Isicathamiya and Mbaqanga (Zulu). This particular reference indicates the notion of cultural fluidity, and that cultural import and export rarely goes one way. The references pile up: Elvis carries the name he does, which relates to Presley's Graceland, but the African aspects of Paul Simon's Graceland point to both Oke and Presley, and visa versa. The confusion is an effective indicator that culture doesn't truly belong to any one group of people. 

Redemption

"Elvis stepped forward and spoke. 'Yes, this is Redemption'" (321). 

I intentionally saved the discussion of Redemption's name for the end. Redemption seemed always to be trying to earn his name, but always doing it in the wrong way. He tried to help Elvis out of each bad situation he came across, from start to finish, but always ended up doing the right thing the wrong way. From getting Elvis involved in drug trafficking, and eventually human trafficking, Redemption seemed to be more trouble than help, but his intentions were often good. Finally at the end, Redemption gives Elvis his passport as a final act of redemption. By passing his identity on to Elvis, however, an interesting shift happens. The name takes on a new meaning in the hands of Elvis, and as he boards the plane he says, "Yes, this is Redemption." Clearly, this is pointing at the fact that Elvis is given a new identity, and therefore a new chance to save—that is, redeem—himself. I think Redemption recognized that Elvis simply wasn't cut out of life in Lagos, and that he didn't hadn't hardened himself enough to survive much longer in Lagos. Furthermore, Redemption realized that Lagos was his home, and he was holding onto the passport "for dream," instead of intending to actually go to America (317).
Elvis leaving the country shouldn't be viewed as an abandonment, however. In fact, Elvis protests, saying, "But this country is just as good as America" (318). The departure should be seen as an act of self-preservation, instead of as Elvis giving his country up.

GraceLand as a Bildungsroman

As far as a coming-of-age novel, GraceLand is not a typical one. Though Elvis certainly does age and change, the transformation is not fully realized. Instead he leaves for America, where the true coming-of-age will have to take place. In a way, it is as if the novel suggests that there is not such thing as one instant that creates an adult from a youth. Instead it is a steady progression of events. Even if it is Elvis' story, it is also a kind of bildungsroman for Sunday, and perhaps even Nigeria. Particularly at the end, Sunday makes an effort to regain his pride and self-worth by standing up for Maroko, looking out for Elvis, and fighting for his own rights. Perhaps Abani is calling for a kind of "maturation" for Nigeria, where the country, like Sunday, must learn to take care of itself, as well as it's sons and daughters.

Rethinking Magic

"Sunday roared, leapt out of his body and charged at the back of the policeman, his paw delivering a fatal blow to the back of the policeman's head. With a rasping cough, Sunday disappeared into the night" (286).

Upon revisiting the time of Sunday's death, I couldn't help but think my assessment of magic in GraceLand had been somewhat off. Perhaps Nigerian culture has less of an emphasis or believe in magic, and Abani was using it more for purposes non-didactic. After all, this is certainly a work of fiction. The scene where Beatrice and the totem jaguar appear before Sunday proves more to be a simple hallucination, and instead a powerful moment of magical realism in the text. To see Sunday spring up from his dead body and kill the policeman in retaliation was rewarding, and the use of the word "paw" indicates that it wasn't Sunday in the normal physical sense, but more of the spirit of Sunday. I took it to be more of a symbol than an actual happening in the story at first, but when Elvis discovers the torn-up head of the policeman, he mentions that it looked like the work of a large animal. This all adds up to a strange break in form, since all of the following story had been realistic. I can't help but question the powers of the wizards and Oye in the story, though it doesn't make a large difference at this point.

"Helplessness Blues"

"I don't have a choice, Elvis. When de muse calls, you obey" (275). 

The above excerpt is George explaining the reason why he has chosen the life on the road with the Joking Jaguars. The undertone is obvious; George doesn't feel like he has the choice to play music. Instead, he and his fellow musicians are forced by the "itch" they experience. This explanation precedes Elvis' realization that only a few men at the head of the government are in control of their fate, and Elvis is overtaken by sadness and a sense of a similar helplessness. "He looked up at the sky. It was beautiful. Stars. Like so much sand" (281). Elvis is clearly touched by a sense of insignificance to couple his feeling of powerlessness. When Elvis weakly asks why nobody has done anything about it, George answers simply, "Who want to die?" (281). The feeling of the road wearing on Elvis, along with his newfound sense of helplessness has gotten the better of Elvis for a moment, and the fact that the Colonel has a hit on him doesn't ease his mind. In this passage, the Bildungsroman element of the book blossoms more than ever before, which I will discuss later. For now, I'd like to leave it at this particularly relevant song by Seattle folk rock band, Fleet Foxes, titled "Helplessness Blues."

Magic Revisited

It was mentioned that Jagua, a practicing druid, was previously seen as something of a phony; "Everyone pooh-poohed Jagua's druidic philosophy and magic spells" (253), but after casting an apparently-effective spell upon Confidence, he was taken more seriously. Oye had also been revered for her magical abilities, but I hadn't realized that there was as much belief in magic in the Nigerian culture as when the police arrested the two wizards hurling spells at the bulldozer. The fact that the police chief would even consider this to be a possibility is strange to me, because the belief in magic—at least this kind of magic—is so widely dismissed as silly. However, there seems to be a lasting belief in magic in 1980s Nigerian culture that I would not have expected. I know that shamans are widely accepted as legitimate practitioners in many cultures, but there is a difference between the shamanic worldview and pure magic. According to Professor Robert McKinley, a professor of Shamanism  and the Sacred Journey at Michigan State University, a shaman is one who practices "cosmic- or soul-journey," which is a transcendental experience. Instead, Jagua, Oye, and the other practicers of magic cast spells and conduct healing. This is not a criticism; I can certainly see parallels between this kind of magic and various popular religious rituals, but I couldn't help but be surprised.