In a society where women are constantly blamed for infertility, author of A Spell of Good Things, Ayọ̀bámi Adébáyọ̀, writes a thrilling novel that details the plights of women whose husbands are vividly aware that the problem of infertility lies with them. Ayọ̀bámi Adébáyọ̀’s debut novel, Stay with Me, is a poignant exploration of marriage, betrayal, and cultural pressures set against the vibrant backdrop of 1980s Nigeria.
Shortlisted for the 2017 Baileys Women’s Prize for Fiction, this emotionally charged story follows Yejide and Akin, a couple whose dreams of a family are tested by infertility and societal expectations. Adébáyọ̀ tells a narrative that is both distressing and yet suspense-filled.
The novel opens with the fiercely independent businesswoman, Yejide, reminiscing and soliloquising about her plan to return to Ife, albeit one she has been constantly postponing until that very day. It then quickly moves to Ilesa, I985, where we are introduced to the protagonists, Akin and Yejide, and the conflict of the novel, their infertility.
Their enviable marriage is tested because of this, as Mama, who is already a grandmother, insists that her first child, Akin, must give her a grandchild. When all physical, medical, and spiritual intervention fails to succeed, Mama takes the only route yet unexplored: she coerces Akin to marry a second wife against his wishes. This becomes a turning point in their marriage as it is easy to lie to one person but difficult to keep up the act with two people.
Adébáyọ̀ uses a dual first-person narrative technique, employing the point of view of both Akin and Yejide to tell the story from their unique perspectives. This gives the reader an insight into their personal struggles and tries to win the reader over to their side. It’s a more balanced structure, in contrast to the single perspective used in, for instance, Buchi Emecheta’s Second Class Citizen, which focuses entirely on Adah’s experience and paints Francis through her lens alone. Adébáyọ̀’s approach builds suspense, as past and present collide to expose the consequences of their decisions.
However, the nonlinear timeline can feel disorienting at times, occasionally disrupting the emotional flow. Despite this, the plot’s exploration of infertility, grief, and betrayal is unflinchingly honest, and it captures the weight of societal expectations in a patriarchal society and cultural system.
Thematically, Stay with Me tackles heavy topics of deception, love, infertility, gender expectations, and grief, which are intertwined. Adébáyọ̀ examines how love can coexist with deception, how family can be both a refuge and a burden, and how cultural norms, particularly around masculinity, motherhood, and polygamy, can fracture relationships, and overall, it emphasises the importance of communication and honesty in relationships. Her exploration of pseudocyesis (a false pregnancy that manifests physically) is both heartbreaking and eye-opening, serving as a powerful metaphor for the illusions people create to survive emotional drought. The Nigerian setting, with its political unrest and vibrant Yoruba traditions, grounds the story, adding richness without overwhelming the plot.
The author portrays Yejide as naïve, which helps Akin to keep up his deception while looking for solutions. But when he is forced to marry Funmi, she threatens to break not only his marriage but also ruin his personality, and when I suddenly get engaged in seeing how Akin handles this dilemma, things begin to spiral, and the story takes a sharp, unexpected turn.
Yejide’s desperate efforts to save her marriage and keep her husband to herself, please her mother-in-law, and meet up with society’s expectations of womanhood are a chilling experience of the average motherless Nigerian (maybe African) wives. From hospitals, to eating different kinds of food, to imams, spiritualists, and pastors, even the one who made her breastfeed a goat. She is willing to do everything, and that’s why her reaction to Akin taking a second wife is understandable.
But what is more shocking is to finally realise that while going through this plight, she is not at fault, which explains why Akin is sure of the fact that she isn’t pregnant when she goes through the pseudocyesis episode. And it is at this moment that I began to suspect that Akin knew something he wasn’t saying.
While I was finally happy to see Yejide become a mother, tragedy strikes. Soon, Yejide conceives again and becomes fiercely protective of her new son, Sesan. Sesan is discovered to have sickle cell, yet Akin, who is AA, feigns annoyance at this revelation but goes home to be a sweet husband to Yejide, which is not typical of Nigerian men who have just been handed evidence on a platter that their wives are cheating. The story takes a quick turn here, and it was at this point that I was able to solve the mystery and connect the dots.
When the truth is finally revealed, I couldn’t help but feel for Yejide. I shared in her pain and totally understood the emotional breakdown and pang of having to realise she suffered and went through a lot because her husband was protecting his dignity. And the truth is, Yejide is not alone. Nigerian women have been going through this for ages. They keep being blamed for lack of conception, lack of a male child, rhesus isoimmunization, etc., when most time, the problem is with the man. Adébáyọ̀ artistically highlights this topic as it is barely discussed in societal circles. Yejide’s subsequent grief and emotional detachment don’t come as a surprise, and maybe, just maybe, helped shape the bittersweet, unresolved ending the novel ultimately offers.
Adébáyọ̀ uses relatable characters in the novel. Yejide gets married as a naïve virgin, a sheltered young woman whose limited knowledge of intimacy reflects her upbringing. At first, this might seem surprising to a modern reader, but when you consider the social context of the 1980s, a time before widespread internet access and today’s level of exposure through media, her innocence becomes more understandable.
Funmi, Akin’s second wife, is Yejide’s direct foil. She arrives to usurp Yejide’s place in Akin’s life, but also encounters the same infertility issue. This makes her questioning of Yejide’s pregnancy, right from the pseudocyesis episode to her eventual conception and childbirth, not out of place. Akin, the lover boy who doesn’t want to lose the love of his life, is a perfect example of why communication is important in relationships. He knows he is impotent, yet hides it from Yejide with the hope that he will find a cure soon enough for her not to notice. Once this fails, spurred by love, he enlists the aid of his brother in getting Yejide pregnant, albeit without Yejide’s knowledge and consent. At this point, I’m thinking, “Come on, bro, that is quite extreme.”
I also failed to understand the rationale behind his anger and violence towards Dotun when he walks in on him making love to his wife, who at that moment is emotionally disconnected from him after discovering his betrayal and deception. You asked and begged your brother to sleep with your wife so she could conceive, and after three children, you are angry he is still sleeping with your wife. But you wanted four children? After giving him the licence to do so, why are you angry? Or did you expect him to take special permission before engaging in the act? In a desperate bid to get the love of his life, Yejide, to stay with him, Akin does the exact opposite and pushes her away from him. All these could have been avoided if the right communication had been had.
Personally, I found Stay with Me devastating yet uplifting. Yejide’s emotional journey, especially in key moments of loss, left me in tears, while her strength offered hope. The novel’s climax is a gut-punch, though the resolution felt slightly rushed, leaving some threads unresolved. This minor flaw didn’t diminish the book’s impact, but it may leave readers craving more closure. Fans of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie or Buchi Emecheta will appreciate Adébáyọ̀’s blend of cultural insight and emotional depth, though the heavy themes may not suit those seeking lighter fare.
Stay with Me is a must-read for anyone drawn to literary fiction that probes the complexities of love and sacrifice. It’s a novel that challenges, moves, and ultimately celebrates the resilience of the human spirit.
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Alex