Tomi Adeyemi
Tomi Adeyemi (born August 1, 1993) is a Nigerian-American novelist and creative writing coach.
Quotes
[edit]- People say you’ve got to write honestly and that sounds great but also, what does that mean? I think part of that is knowing there are some things black people go through that are universal and those things are how the world shapes you…if you’re in a racist encounter, they’re not going to say, “Oh, you’re Jamaican, oh, you’re Nigerian; oh, you’re full African American; your ancestors were brought here on slave ships.” That’s not what other people see. In the outside world, we have a kind of universal experience but it also changes depending on whether you’ve grown up in predominantly white spaces or predominantly black spaces…
- On how Black people go through various experiences in “15 MINUTES WITH TOMI ADEYEMI AT SAN DIEGO COMIC CON” in Book Riot (2018 Aug 2)
- The thing is that underneath we are all humans…Everyone has people they love and people they want to protect, everyone has things they are afraid of or that cause them pain.
- On aiming to write multifaceted characters in “Meet Tomi Adeyemi: the politically-charged author you need to know about in 2019” in Harper’s Bazaar (2019 Mar 26)
- I saw the opportunity to show the beauty in the culture and show that these words sound magical. We’re so used to using Latin, but if J.K. Rowling saw magic in that, you can see magic in your own culture. And if you can see it, you can help other people to see it.
- On showcasing the Yoruba culture in Children of Blood and Bone in “Meet Tomi Adeyemi: the politically-charged author you need to know about in 2019” in Harper’s Bazaar (2019 Mar 26)
- …I had a lot of different reasons for writing the book but at its core was the desire to write for black teenage girls growing up reading books they were absent from. That was my experience as a child. Children of Blood and Bone is a chance to address that. To say you are seen.
- On her primary motivation to write Children of Blood and Bone in “Tomi Adeyemi: ‘We need a black girl fantasy book every month’” in The Guardian (2018 Mar 10)
- (Which writers — novelists, playwrights, critics, journalists, poets — working today do you admire most?) For novelists, I’m a forever-fan of Sabaa Tahir. Her debut fantasy — “An Ember in the Ashes” — was the epic tale that inspired me to write “Children of Blood and Bone.” It moved me in ways a story hadn’t moved me before and gave me a chance to imagine a fantasy world with characters I’d never gotten to see before. For journalists, Shaun King. The work Shaun does for the black community is incredible. I respect his strength, tenacity and passion, and I admire him deeply for the commitment to getting our stories out.
- When I read, I like to go somewhere else in my mind with stories that touch our real world without taking place in it.
- (What makes for a good fantasy novel?) I think the most magical fantasies will always be the ones with a world you want to live in forever…I think great worlds are important because they allow readers to play in that world with their imagination long after the book is done, but a great world isn’t complete without a great protagonist.
- (What moves you most in a work of literature?) Acts of love. Be it familial, friendly or romantic. A beautifully described, tender act of love destroys me…I’ve always loved sweeping romances and magical fantasies. I’ve loved headstrong, determined female protagonists and epic battles. I still like to read the same things. I think the difference now is that I get to read all the things I like with characters who look like me. My childhood stories didn’t give me that. Even in the stories I wrote myself, I was only writing white characters and biracial characters. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that erasure was painful and damaging to my sense of self. So getting to create and read stories that fight that erasure and build on my sense of self is the only significant change in my reading tastes.
- You have your duty and your heart. To chose one means the other must suffer.
- Love is too strong, too intense, for what I feel. For what I am allowed to feel.
- Power is not the answer. It will only intensify the fight.
- No matter how much I crave peace, the gods have other plans.
- “Everyone else feels like being caught in the rain. You’re the whole tsunami.
- I begin to realise how far others will go to keep us down.
- I don't know what shocks me more--- the power in my voice or the words themselves
- Reality and logic don’t matter to her. She needs this so badly, failure isn’t even in the realm of possibilities.
- I’ve been a sheep. A sheep when my kingdom needed me to act like a king.
- It doesn't matter how strong I get, how much power my magic wields. They will always hate me in this world.
- It avoids rather than hurts, it hurts rather than maims, it maims rather than kills—the staff does not destroy.” “I teach you to be warriors in the garden so you will never be gardeners in the war. I give you the strength to fight, but you all must learn the strength of restraint.” Mama turns to me, shoulders pinned back. “You must protect those who can’t defend themselves. That is the way of the staff.
- Fool yourself all you want, little prince, but don’t feign innocence with me. I won’t let your father get away with what he’s done. I won’t let your ignorance silence my pain.
- Deep down, I know the truth. I knew it the moment I saw the maji of Ibadan in chains. The gods died with our magic.
- (Chapter One)
- He wants to believe that playing by the monarchy’s rules will keep us safe, but nothing can protect us when those rules are rooted in hate
- (Chapter Two )
- You must protect those who can’t defend themselves. Mama Agba’s words from this morning seep into my head.
- (Chapter Five )
- Yemi meets my eyes with a hatred that impales me like a sword. Though her mouth never opens, her voice rings in my skull. “Safe ended a long time ago.”
- (Chapter Eleven)
- I arch my eyebrow at Amari and think back to her mention of a training accident. I assumed the scar came from her brother’s sword, but was she holding a sword, too? Despite her escape from Lagos, I can’t imagine the princess locked in battle.
- (Chapter Thirteen)
- Though the royal seal is etched into the clay wall, it waves in my mind like the velvet banners in Father’s throne room. After the Raid, he abolished the old seal, a gallant bull-horned lionare that always used to make me feel safe. Instead, he proclaimed that our power would be represented by the snow leopanaires: ryders who were ruthless. Pure.
- (Chapter Twenty-Two)
- Growing up, Father led me to believe that those who clung to the myth of the gods were weak. They relied on beings they could never see, dedicating their lives to faceless entities.
- (Chapter Twenty-Four )
- After I perform the ritual and bring magic back, after Baba is safe and sound. I’ll rally a group of Grounders to sink this monstrosity into the sand. That announcer will pay for every wasted divîner life. Every noble will answer for their crimes.
- (Chapter Twenty-Five )
- I don’t know what disturbs me more: that I killed him, or that I could do it again. Strike, Amari. A thin whisper of father’s voice plays in my ears.
- (Chapter Thirty-Four)
- Those are Father’s words, Inan. His decisions. Not yours. We are our own people. We make our own choices.”
“But he’s right. Inan’s voice cracks. “If we don’t stop magic, Orïsha will fall.”
- (Chapter Thirty-Six )
- Zélie’s memories don’t hold the villains Father always warned of. Only families he tore apart. Duty before self. His creed rings through my ears. My father. Her king. The harbinger of all this suffering.
- (Chapter Thirty-Nine)
- This pawn was the only piece I managed to salvage. Shame ripples through me as I stare at the tarnished metal. The only gift he’s ever given me, and at its core is hate.
- (Chapter Forty-Seven)
- Zu’s tears make my own eyes prickle. Kwame’s face pinches with pain. I want to hate him for what he did to Tzain, but I can’t. I’m no better. If anything, I’m worse. If Inan hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve stabbed that masked divîner to death just to get answers
- (Chapter Fifty-One)
- A pit of guilt opens in my chest, tainted with the smell of burning flesh. The fires I watched from the royal palace resurface, the innocent lives burned before my young eyes. A memory I’ve pushed down like my magic, a day I longed to forget. But staring at Zélie now brings it all back: the pain. The tears. The death.
- (Chapter Fifty-Four)
- The children of Orïsha dance like there’s no tomorrow, each step praising the gods. Their mouths glorify the rapture of liberation, their hearts sing the Yoruba songs of freedom. My ears dance at the words of my language, words I once thought I’d never hear outside my head. They seem to light up the air with their delight. It’s like the whole world can breathe again.
- (Chapter Fifty-Six )
- “I thought things could be different. I wanted them to be different. But after what we just saw, we have no choice. We can’t give people that kind of power.”
- (Chapter Sixty-Three)
- In that instant it hits me: Zulaikha’s death. Zélie’s screams. They don’t mean a thing to him. Because they’re maji, they’re nothing. He preaches duty before self, but his Orïsha doesn’t include them. It never has.
- (Chapter Sixty-Six )
- Binta’s voice rings loud. The sight of her blood fills my head. I can avenge her now. I can cut Father down. While the maji take out the guards, my sword can free Father of his head. Retribution for all his massacres, every poor soul he ever killed […].
- (Chapter Sixty-Eight )
- The ache that cuts through me is sharper than the blade that cut through my back. It’s like losing Mama all over again.
- (Chapter Seventy-One)
- I stare at the blade; the inscription gleams in the moonlight. Its words simplify my mission, creating space for my pain. A soldier. A great king. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. Duty over self. Orïsha over Zélie.
- (Chapter Seventy-Four )
- I don’t want to be alone. Not when tonight could be my last night. Blind faith in the gods may have taken me this far, but if I’m going to get on that island tomorrow, I need more.
- (Chapter Seventy-Five)
- Minutes stretch into hours, an eternity that drags like death. Each second that passes is another second my mind tumbles in guilt What if they’re captured? What if they die? I can’t have more people perish for this. I can’t have more blood stain my hands.
- (Chapter Seventy-Eight)
- As I approach Inan, Baba’s shaking grows frantic. I can’t let him break my resolve. I don’t want them to win, Baba. But I can’t let you die.
- (Chapter Seventy-Nine )
- As long as we don’t have magic, they will never treat us with respect, Baba’s spirit booms. They need to know we can hit them back. If they burn our homes—I burn theirs, too.
- (Chapter Eighty)
- I cannot end it like this. If I do that, I’m no better than him. Orïsha will not survive by employing his tactics. Father must be taken down, but it is too much to drive my sword through his heart—Father pulls back his blade. Momentum carries me forward. Before I can pivot, Father swings his sword around and the blade rips across my back.
- (Chapter Eighty-Three)
- Over generations, love of the maji turned into fear. Fear turned into hate. Hate transformed into violence, a desire to wipe the maji away.”
- (Mama Agba, Chapter 1)
- He wants to believe that playing by the monarchy’s rules will keep us safe, but nothing can protect us when those rules are rooted in hate."
- (Zélie, Chapter 2)
- On earth, Sky Mother created humans, her children of blood and bone. In the heavens she gave birth to the gods and goddesses. Each would come to embody a different fragment of her soul.”
- (Lekan, Chapter 18)
- Magic slithers inside me. Venomous, like a thousand spiders crawling over my skin. It wants more of me.”
- (Inan, Chapter 19)
- In death, the other spirits of the arena passed on their pain. Their hate. In their memories I felt the sting of the guards’ whips. I tasted the salt of fallen tears on my tongue. But Minoli brought me to the dirt fields of Minna, where she and her sharp-nosed siblings worked the land for autumn’s corn crop. Though the sun shone brutal and the work was hard, each moment passed with a smile, with song.”
- (Zélie, Chapter 25)
- It’s like seeing her for the first time: the human behind the maji. Fear embedded in the pain. Tragedy caused in Father’s name.”
- (Inan, Chapter 39)
- Our lack of power and our oppression are one and the same, Inan. Without power we’re maggots. Without power the monarchy treats us like scum!”
- (Zélie, Chapter 44)
- For the first time since the torture, I feel a hint of the old fire that used to roar louder than my fear. But its flame is weak now; as soon as it flickers, it’s blown out by the wind.”
- (Zélie, Chapter 75)
- For years he forced Inan and me to trade blows and bruises under his watchful eye, never relenting, no matter how hard we cried. Every battle was a chance to correct his mistakes, to bring his first family back to life. If we got strong enough, no sword could take us down, no maji could burn our flesh. We fought for his approval, stuck in a battle for his love neither of us would ever win. We raised our swords against each other because neither of us had the courage to raise one against him.”
- (Amari, Chapter 83)
- The moment magic breathes under my skin, I can’t find my voice. The purple light of my ashê glows around my hands, the divine power that fuels our sacred gifts. I haven’t felt its heat since the ritual that brought magic back to Orïsha. Since Baba’s spirit tore through my veins.
I stumble back as magic bubbles inside me. My legs go numb. Magic shackles me to my past, dragging me under despite how hard I pull—
“No!” The shout echoes against the ritual walls [...]
- (Chapter One)
- “I can’t be expected to carry the plight of my people forever.”
- (Chapter Two)
- I tuck away my white streak, wishing I could just chop the lock from my hair. Tzain may not notice the way Zélie looks at it, but I always catch the snarl it brings to her face. For so long, she had to suffer because of her gift. Now those that hurt her the most wield that magic themselves.
I can understand why she despises it, but at times it feels like she despises me.
- (Chapter Four)
- But the return of magic and the birth of tîtáns are living proof that we are finally returning to the Orïsha the gods have always wanted for us! We’re so full of hatred and fear, we’ve forgotten what blessings these abilities are. For centuries these powers have been the source of our strife, but the gods ordained us with magic so the people of Orïsha could thrive!”
- (Chapter Six)
- For so long we’ve been defenseless against the havoc the maji wreak, but now the gods have blessed us as well. We’re powerful enough to annihilate them, Inan. The only way to achieve lasting peace is to cleanse the maggots from this land.”
Her words make my fingers grow cold. To cleanse Orïsha of maji would be finishing Father’s work. It would be another Raid.
- (Chapter Twenty-Three)
- Yoruba is sacred to our people. It’s not just something you can learn.”
“This is bigger than that,” I wave my hand. “For skies’ sake, we’re at war—”
“Our magic isn’t about the war!” Zélie shouts. “Our incantations are the history of our people. They’re the very thing your father tried to destroy!” Her chest heaves up and down and she shakes her head. “Titans have already stolen our magic. You can’t steal this, too.”
- (Chapter Twenty-Four)
- Do you accept these people as your own?
Will you use your strength to protect them at all cost?
The burden of her questions expands in my chest as I look to the Reapers gathered around Mâzeli. Bimpe watches with fingers pressed to her lips. Màri frantically waves her hand, almost immune to the gravity of the moment. Though I’ve only known them for a few hours, they already feel like blood. Like home. Being around them feels more right than anything has felt in years.
- (Chapter Twenty-Five)
- These rebels burned your city to the ground. They wanted you and your people to starve. They are the poison of Orïsha! If you do not cut off the hand now, eventually you will be forced to sever the entire limb.”
I clamp my mouth shut, digesting her words. I know as long as these rebels terrorize us, every maji in Orïsha will be seen as a criminal. The Iyika have to go.
But despite knowing this, my insides twist as Ojore grabs the Burner by
- (Chapter Twenty-Seven )
- Even before Mother interrupted my rally, the support of the Orïshans didn’t touch the boundless joy of these maji. I wonder what it would be like to be embraced like that. To actually have a place where you belong.
[...]
I nod, beginning to understand what it means to be an elder. All this time I assumed it was like occupying the throne, but now I realize that it’s so much more. It isn’t simply a position of power. An elder forms the foundation of their clan’s home.
- (Chapter Twenty-Eight )
- If you’re going to be an elder, you need to understand that true magic isn’t about power,” I explain. “It’s something that’s a part of us, something that’s literally in our blood. Our people have suffered for this. Died for this. It’s not something you can just learn. You may have helped us get it back, but right now we’re still being hunted and killed for the very magic tîtáns like you use against us.”
- (Chapter Thirty )
- After the Raid, practicing these incantations was the only part of him I had left.”
My heart sinks in the echo of his words. In my mind, Kâmarū still whispers these incantations, but without the father he loves. Without the magic that was meant to run through his veins.
[...]
As we walk, I think of the other elders and maji, what their lives might’ve been like before the Raid. Mâzeli’s already told me how the monarchy took both his parents away. How his sister Arunima perished from grief.
- (Chapter Thirty-Four)
- Everyone, fill the bags with as many scrolls as you can. Kenyon, burn the rest.”
“Amari, you can’t!” I whip around, blinking as the ringing sensation in my ears grows louder. [...]
“These are sacred incantations,” I explain. “Histories of our people that will be lost to time!”
- (Chapter Thirty-Eight )
- No!” I jerk up, wincing at the pain that shoots up my side. “This temple may be the oldest Orïsha has. It holds the stories of our past!”
Though Chândomblé wasn’t created for me, I feel its pulse like the beating heart of this land. I remember wandering its hallowed grounds in search of Zélie’s path moons ago. Kneeling before the portrait of Ori. This temple was the one place that could quiet the noise in my head.
- (Chapter Forty-Two )
- My chest falls as Mother marches forward with her tîtáns that still stand. As she walks past the carnage in her path, I know she’s right. Our enemies are gaining ground. We need to eliminate every asset they have. But how long can both sides keep going like this before we destroy Orïsha?
- (Chapter Forty-Two )
- I do not think you’ve gone far enough,” she says. “You speak of this war as if it is the start, but the maji and the monarchy have been fighting for decades. Centuries. Both sides have inflicted great pain on each other. Both sides are filled with mistrust.” [...] “You cannot blame Zélie for her actions any more than you can blame Inan for his past mistakes. You have to look beyond the surface if you truly want to achieve the peace you seek.”
- (Chapter Forty-Five)
- All these years I thought Father was a monster, but what if ruling this kingdom forced him to act that way?
- (Chapter Fifty-Nine)
- This war didn’t start when magic came back, Inan. You are only seeing the end of a battle countless have given their lives for. By winter’s dawn, we will have wiped the scourge of maji from this land. Even your wretched father couldn’t achieve that.”
“Mother, what are you talking about?” I grab her arm. “We’re fighting the Iyika. Not the maji.”
“We’re fighting them all. We have been for decades. This war started long before the Raid. It began before you were even born.”
- (Chapter Sixty-Four)
- No one ever asks, but you’re here. You’re here when so many people aren’t!” Roën grabs his head as if he could pull out his hair. “You survived the Raid. The guards. You survived the wrath of a king. You’re not a victim, Zélie. You’re a survivor! Stop running away!”
- (Chapter Sixty-Nine)
- I look back, not recognizing the monster that wears Ojore’s face. We did this to him. We poisoned him with all our hate.
Now we shall pay the price. I can’t even pretend he isn’t justified. He deserves retribution for all the blood on our hands. All of Orïsha does—
- (Chapter Seventy-One)
- Even from afar, I see the blackened corpses that lie in the streets. Corpses that lie there because of me.
I picture Inan and Mother among the dead.
I picture my best friend.
Strike, Amari.
Father’s voice fills my mind as the tears fill my eyes. Though I breathe, my chest stays tight. It feels like I’m being buried alive.
“Orïsha waits for no one,” I whisper the words. “Orïsha waits for no one.”
I will the words to be true as I ride through Ibadan’s gate.
- (Chapter Seventy-Six)*Even from afar, I see the blackened corpses that lie in the streets. Corpses that lie there because of me.
I picture Inan and Mother among the dead.
I picture my best friend.
Strike, Amari.
Father’s voice fills my mind as the tears fill my eyes. Though I breathe, my chest stays tight. It feels like I’m being buried alive.
“Orïsha waits for no one,” I whisper the words. “Orïsha waits for no one.”
I will the words to be true as I ride through Ibadan’s gate.
- (Chapter Seventy-Eight)
- I feel the most sacred gift of Oya beneath my hands, the holy magic of life and death. When the last body breathes again, I stare at the glowing tattoos on my hands.
No Reaper or Healer in history has ever been able to do that.
In our magic, I see the answer. What Oya wanted me to understand all along. If we use the moonstone to bind our lifeforces, we can save the maji from the monarchy’s grasp.
- (Chapter Eighty-One)
- Strike, Amari.
I pull at my hair, wishing I could pull his claws out of me as well. His whispers are like the bars Kâmarū crafted from stone, a prison I can’t escape. For so long he was the scar on my back. The tyrant I had to vanquish.
How in the skies did I allow his ghost to become my guiding force
- (Chapter Eighty-Three )
- “I see the truth now. We pretend that magic is the root of our pain when everything rotten in this kingdom begins and ends with us. There’s no helping it.” I clench my fist. “Amari proved that in Ibadan. This throne corrupts even the purest of hearts. As long as it exists, people will continue to tear this kingdom apart.”
- (Chapter Eighty-Five )
