A Multi-Layered Narrative with Universal Appeal. Unearthing the scars of misdeeds and life as a palimpsest.

Ife Abe
Olukorede Yishau’s After the End unfurls like a tightly held secret, peeling back layers of human frailty and resilience. At its core is Demola—nicknamed “Google” by his wife, Idera, for his endless trove of knowledge and solutions. Yet, as the story reveals, even a man who seems to have all the answers can carry a labyrinth of contradictions, where certainty masks chaos and confidence cloaks cowardice.
Demola’s death sets the novel into motion, plunging Idera into a reality that unravels everything she believed about her husband. When Lydia—a woman who bore Demola’s son—appears at Idera’s doorstep, the carefully curated life Demola built crumbles posthumously, leaving his family to sift through the wreckage of his double life. Here, Yishau’s narrative transcends personal betrayal, becoming a meditation on the daily performances we enact to hide our flaws and failures from the world. Google, the man, is a reflection of the modern individual—knowledgeable yet fundamentally flawed, trapped in the throes of compromise and human fallibility.
Set against the backdrop of Lagos, Liverpool, London, and Ile-Ife, the novel captures the pulse of everyday life: the weight of societal expectations, the sting of infidelity, and the quiet courage it takes to rebuild after heartbreak. Yishau writes with a deep understanding of familial dysfunction, exploring how cycles of betrayal and abandonment perpetuate through generations. Demola, who once condemned his father’s infidelity, becomes the very man he despised, echoing the biblical notion that “the sins of the father are visited upon the children.” This tragic inevitability serves as both a cautionary tale and a call for introspection, urging readers to confront their own legacies.
Idera’s journey from devastation to self-reclamation is where Yishau’s writing shines most brightly. Through her, the novel examines the quiet strength required to piece one’s life back together, especially in the face of societal judgments and personal disillusionment. Her friendship with Suliat, a fiercely loyal single mother, provides a vital counterpoint, illustrating the power of solidarity amidst life’s uncertainties. Together, these women embody the resilience of those who refuse to be defined by their pain, choosing instead to forge paths toward healing and growth.
Yishau’s structural choices—alternating between timelines and perspectives—add depth to the narrative. Idera’s first-person voice pulls readers into her intimate struggles, while third-person accounts illuminate the broader context, particularly Demola’s internal conflict. This duality mirrors the tension between public personas and private truths, a recurring theme that resonates deeply in a world where appearances often matter more than reality.
Amidst the personal drama, After the End doesn’t shy away from societal critique. It examines the fractured institutions and cultural norms that shape its characters’ lives: the absence of father figures, the persistence of polygamy, and the systemic failures that leave young men adrift. Yishau’s portrayal of a teenager from a broken home who stabs Idera’s son underscores how societal neglect can culminate in tragedy, making the personal inherently political.
While the novel’s emotional core is undeniable, some elements—such as the underexplored perspective of Lydia—leave the reader yearning for more. Additionally, a few romantic subplots feel tangential, detracting slightly from the narrative’s sharper themes. Yet these are minor flaws in an otherwise profound exploration of human complexity.
In After the End, Yishau captures the raw, unvarnished reality of lives entangled by love, lies, and loss. Through Demola’s legacy, he reminds us that even those who seem omniscient, like “Google,” are shaped by human frailty. And through Idera’s resilience, he offers a poignant testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit. Life may often feel like an unanswered question, but Yishau’s work reassures us that within the throes of everyday chaos, there is always the possibility of redemption.
Olukorede Yishau’s After the End is a haunting, multi-layered narrative that intertwines personal and collective histories, excavating the fissures in relationships, the weight of generational wounds, and the fraught journey toward redemption. At its core, this is a tale of unspoken truths—the kind that linger in the silences of conversations, in the unfinished corners of love, and in the wreckage left behind by lives lived on the edge of honesty.
From its arresting opening line—“Google died on the day the UK voted to leave the European Union”—Yishau deftly pulls readers into a world where human imperfection and societal realities collide. The reference to “Google,” a moniker given to Idera’s husband Demola for his encyclopedic knowledge, is both ironic and prescient, setting the tone for a story that probes the limits of what we think we know about those closest to us.
The novel’s foundation is built on two women— Idera and Lydia—whose fates are inextricably bound by the shared betrayal of a man who lived a double life. With the revelation of Demola’s son by another woman, Yishau catapults Idera into a maelstrom of grief, introspection, and uncharted motherhood. Yet the story refuses to languish in despair; instead, it moves with purpose, threading its characters through four cities—Lagos, Liverpool, London, and Ile-Ife—while unraveling themes of grief, betrayal, racism, and societal decay.