Everything Is Fine Here
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Review of Everything is Fine Here by Iryn Tushabe
Aine Kamara is on the brink of adulthood, preparing for her university exams—a time that should be filled with hope and ambition. But in modern Uganda, where shifting religious ideologies clash with personal identity, Aine is forced to question where she truly belongs.
The tension in her home is palpable. With her sister Mbabazi—an OBGYN and fertility specialist—returning from Canada with her secret girlfriend, Achen, Aine witnesses firsthand the painful divide between love and societal expectation. The conflict between mother and daughter fractures the family, leaving Aine feeling frightened, angry, and lost, unsure of which paths remain open to her.
After a pivotal life-altering event, Aine runs away, seeking refuge with Mbabazi in the city—where she discovers her own first stirrings of romance and passion. But as she navigates this unfamiliar world, she must ask herself: How far can she go in her quest for independence? What is permissible for her as a young college woman? Must she leave not just her home, but her country, to truly discover who she can be?
This novel transported me to Uganda, immersing me in landscapes, flavors, and traditions I had never experienced firsthand but felt deeply through Tushabe’s masterful storytelling. Her prose is vivid, powerful, and compelling, seamlessly balancing intimate struggles with broader cultural conversations.
I adored how this book grounded me in Aine’s world, while reminding me that I was, in many ways, a visitor—an observer to experiences that were both deeply specific and universally resonant. Through nuanced dialogue and cultural touchstones—like the Ekitaguriro, the cow dance—Tushabe created moments of pure cultural exchange, inviting me to not just read, but learn and engage.
And in those moments, I found myself thinking—just as Achen does—Why must someone abandon their home, so rich in heritage and joy, simply because of who they love?
Filled with complex, unforgettable characters and themes that linger long after the last page, this is the kind of novel that demands reflection. It’s not just a story; it’s an experience—one that would make a beautiful summer book club read, where conversations about identity, belonging, and freedom could unfold in all their depth.
Review of Everything is Fine Here by Iryn Tushabe
Aine Kamara is on the brink of adulthood, preparing for her university exams—a time that should be filled with hope and ambition. But in modern Uganda, where shifting religious ideologies clash with personal identity, Aine is forced to question where she truly belongs.
The tension in her home is palpable. With her sister Mbabazi—an OBGYN and fertility specialist—returning from Canada with her secret girlfriend, Achen, Aine witnesses firsthand the painful divide between love and societal expectation. The conflict between mother and daughter fractures the family, leaving Aine feeling frightened, angry, and lost, unsure of which paths remain open to her.
After a pivotal life-altering event, Aine runs away, seeking refuge with Mbabazi in the city—where she discovers her own first stirrings of romance and passion. But as she navigates this unfamiliar world, she must ask herself: How far can she go in her quest for independence? What is permissible for her as a young college woman? Must she leave not just her home, but her country, to truly discover who she can be?
This novel transported me to Uganda, immersing me in landscapes, flavors, and traditions I had never experienced firsthand but felt deeply through Tushabe’s masterful storytelling. Her prose is vivid, powerful, and compelling, seamlessly balancing intimate struggles with broader cultural conversations.
I adored how this book grounded me in Aine’s world, while reminding me that I was, in many ways, a visitor—an observer to experiences that were both deeply specific and universally resonant. Through nuanced dialogue and cultural touchstones—like the Ekitaguriro, the cow dance—Tushabe created moments of pure cultural exchange, inviting me to not just read, but learn and engage.
And in those moments, I found myself thinking—just as Achen does—Why must someone abandon their home, so rich in heritage and joy, simply because of who they love?
Filled with complex, unforgettable characters and themes that linger long after the last page, this is the kind of novel that demands reflection. It’s not just a story; it’s an experience—one that would make a beautiful summer book club read, where conversations about identity, belonging, and freedom could unfold in all their depth.