SOMEDAY, MAYBE

A young widow comes to terms with her husband’s sudden death.

College sweethearts Eve and Quentin, affectionately called Q, have been happily married for 10 years, living in London. When Eve discovers her husband’s body on New Year’s Eve, her life’s trajectory—and their life together—is cleaved down the center into Before and After. Quentin, born to the White, “semi-royal” Morrow family, has died by suicide—and Eve had no idea he was even suffering. Eve’s world shrinks down to nearly nothing as she navigates her pain, sadness, and guilt. Her close Nigerian family and best friend, Bee, hover close while she refuses to do anything or eat anything other than pain-numbing pills. Without a suicide note, Eve and those closest to Q, including his mother, Aspen—who has always been horrible to Eve and who becomes even worse in the wake of her son’s death—struggle to understand how this could happen. As months pass, Eve knows that her family hopes and prays she will soon feel like herself again, and she begins to resent them despite herself: “To grieve is to frighten the people you love.” An accidental discovery made halfway through the novel changes the course of Eve’s life once again. The novel’s second half offers a slow, hard-earned journey toward healing, which is aided by a well-wrought cast of characters who offer Eve opportunities to figure out who she is now, without Q. Though some readers may find the book unrelenting, Nwabineli’s stunning insight and prose offer a true and honest portrayal of grief as vast, unending, and ever changing; she also meditates on themes of forgiveness, hope, and the endless love of family and friends.

Nwabineli’s debut is deeply moving, tender, and, against all odds, funny.