Abubakar Adam Ibrahim is one of those writer types; the ones that make the rest of us mortals look like we are not serious with our lives. The man writes prose, poetry and plays. You heard that right. He rights in all the genres that the Nigerian Literature Prize hands out prizes in. Except children’s literature but I suspect that is probably because there is a foolhardy publisher somewhere dilly dallying with a manuscript denying Abubakar a chance at US$100,000.
Proving that the game recognises his prowess with a keyboard (no one ever says prowess with a pen anymore right?) he has a raft of awards and award nominations to his name. Some of these include BBC African Performance Prize, ANA Plateau/Amatu Braide Prize for Prose and runner-up for the ANA Plateau Poetry Prize. Heck. He was even close to winning the Caine Prize, currently the holy grail in African literature prizes, with a 2013 nomination for the story The Whispering Trees that went to Tope Folarin.
To add insult to injury, the man does all these while doing a full time job as the Arts Editor of Abuja based Sunday Trust newspaper.
Then there is his début collection of short stories, The Whispering Trees, which I really need to review here seeing as I love it so much. That’s my task for the next few days. The book which is published in Nigeria by Parresia Publishers has done quite well having sold out two print runs.
For its third print, the team behind the book has come up with a sexier cover for the book; an extreme makeover. The new cover has the butterflies that were the signature from the older one. However the designer takes a risk as it looks a bit like this is not many butterflies but one butterfly flitting against a glass wall like you would find protecting a shower in the better houses. I prefer the older cover but I suspect that it has more to do with me being already being so used to the old one and refusing to let go. I’ll get over it. Whichever cover you prefer I suggest that you get a hold of it. You’re welcome (you’ll be telling thanks when you do).