For Women in Translation Month, we’re celebrating the women who help stories cross borders. Translators are not simply carrying words from one language to another; they are literary collaborators whose choices and craft help shape how a story is experienced by new readers.

Maren Baudet-Lackner, translator of Osvalde Lewat’s The Aquatics, shares her thoughts on the importance of translation, the value of reading across cultures and why Women in Translation Month matters.

Read the full conversation below.

What first drew you to The Aquatics and made you want to translate it?

I first learned about The Aquatics from the interview Osvalde gave to the French literary magazine Lire. I was instantly drawn to her representation of Katmé’s struggle to decide whether to do what is right or what is comfortable. For some readers, the fact that Katmé doesn’t do more for Samy and queer rights in general may be off-putting. For me, having grown up in a small town in the rural United States with a lesbian mother, it feels deeply—perhaps shamefully—authentic.

Which aspect of Osvalde Lewat’s writing was the most exciting to recreate in English?

I cannot get enough of Osvalde’s tongue-in-cheek social critique, so that was a real joy to reproduce in English. Chapter six is one of my favourites for that aspect of her writing.

The novel explores power, friendship, and political repression. Did translating these themes change the way you experienced the story?

I think translating a book always changes the way you experience a story to some degree. Translators read more closely and pay more attention to every detail than any other reader ever will, in my opinion. Getting that granular definitely shifts some of your focus from the main themes and overall sense of the story at times. This is one of the reasons I always finish a translation as long as I can before a deadline so that I can put it away and then come back to it with fresh eyes, to read the English text on its own.

Which part of the novel demanded the most from you as a translator?

SPOILER ALERT: The stream of consciousness account of Samy’s murder at the hands of teen and preteen boys was extremely difficult to get through emotionally, and to get right, i.e., to strike the same balance of innocence and viciousness that Osvalde had created.

Women in Translation Month celebrates literature that crosses linguistic borders. Why do you think initiatives like this matter?

Women writers have traditionally been translated significantly less often than men. Since its founding by Meytal Radzinski in 2014, Women in Translation Month has done a lot to help counterbalance that fact. In addition to spotlighting women writers, it also brings a lot of attention to literary translation in general. I’m biased, of course, but short of living in various countries for an extended period of time, I genuinely think that reading literature in translation is the best way to learn about the world’s many different places, peoples, and cultures. It helps us to see beyond the “differences” politicians are all too eager to point out – and even make up – and understand what really matters: We’re all people, with the same basic needs, emotions, and struggles.

You have built a career translating contemporary French-language literature, particularly by underrepresented writers. What draws you to these projects?

Since childhood I’ve been drawn to stories of places and people that are unfamiliar to me. It started as a way to escape the conservative community I was growing up in. Today I suppose it’s still about broadening my own horizons and those of English-speaking readers around the globe. I’ve lived abroad for most of my adult life now, and living in a different language and culture has taught me so much about my own default “normal”. I think that books in translation can do that too—broaden our understanding of what is “normal”.

What do you hope English-language readers take away from The Aquatics?

I hope that they’re moved by the friendship between Katmé and Samy and that the book pushes them to reflect the state of queer rights—and all minority rights—where they live, as well as their own potential complicity in it.

Finally, what does Women in Translation Month mean to you personally?

It is heartening to see how many presses, influencers, and bookshops are taking part in the movement this year!

Shop The Aquatics

The post Women in Translation Month with Maren Baudet-Lackner appeared first on Cassava Republic Press.

Illustrations do more than accompany a story. They shape a reader’s first impression, breathe life into characters and invite readers into the world of a book before they’ve even turned the first page.

For The Shikipisha Club, illustrator, Funmike Ogaosun created artwork that captures the story at the heart of Mubanga Kalimamukwento’s story. We caught up with them to talk about the inspiration behind the illustrations, and what it was like bringing The Shikipisha Club to life on the page.

What was your first impression when you read the coverbrief for The Shipikisha Club?

My first impression was intrigued and connected, to its plot and the original use of names.

The novel explores themes of marriage, motherhood, patriarchy. How did you convey those emotionally themes into the illustration?

Because I could connect to the story, I drew images from memory and tailored it to the story. The picture of the environment, the composure of a wounded Sali, the poses of significant objects, and a dead husband we cannot fully see in the corner of the page portray the mood and themes, conveying quietly what world we’re about to enter.

Could you take us behind the scenes of your creative process from your earliest ideas and sketches to the final artwork that readers see today?

I would love to, but unfortunately, as a “returned- back- to-art” artist after so many years, who was working with so much pent up emotions, on very simple materials, and on my very first book cover, I was too excited and lost in the process. I did not even think of documenting much. I regret that and have resolved to document my process going forward.

Is there a favourite detail on the cover that you’re especially proud of, but think most readers might not notice on their first look?

I’m especially proud of the portraits in the background, especially the one with Grandmother, Mother and Daughter. For me, it ’s a poetic detail showing an invisible thread of generational connection and trauma . Many people may not notice it at first glance, but maybe after you have read the book, just maybe, you might see the significance of that particular portrait of silhouettes.

Every book cover presents its own creative challenges. What was the most difficult aspect of this design to get right, and how did you work through it?

Honestly, it was generally a breeze. After I read the book, I was so captivated and inspired that ideas for the cover just revealed themselves to me. The only work after that was to actually put my pen down and give it life. Sometimes though, I would be hit with the magnitude of this commission that would end up on shelves, in hands and reading spaces, but the joy of the part I was playing overruled the imposter ’s syndrome I might have been tempted to suffer.

In your view, what can an illustration communicate that words sometimes cannot?

An illustration is a poetic piece that not with words, but images tells a story. Illustrations have that abstract wordless power to pull attention, and then communicate to you ( on a personal level) what story it is telling, what emotions it ’s about and what you’re witnessing from the fourth wall. With colors and forms do illustrations speak. Words can make you feel and imagine these things but cannot give you the full picture at a glance. An illustration can also be interpreted even more deeply from person to person, and from time to time, because the more attention it is given, the more it tells.

When someone picks up The Shipikisha Club for the very first time, what do you hope they feel before they’ve even turned the first page? 

I hope they feel the tense opening of a curtain into the world and realities of Sali, as we are pulled into it and compelled to become a part of it.

Shop The Shipikisha Club

The post Q&A: Illustrating The Shikipisha Club by Funmike Ogaosun appeared first on Cassava Republic Press.

One question many readers get over and over again is, “Where do you get the books you read?” In 2026, with how unaffordable physical books are in Nigeria, and maybe the rest of the world because economically everyone is going through it, it is essential for me to be able to access books digitally now more than ever.

There are different apps for different purposes. It truly depends on what kind of book I am reading, where the author put it up for sale, and how convenient and amazing it is to read in the app, because let us be real, no single app does everything well.

The Apps at a Glance

1. Kindle

Still the default for a reason. It has the largest catalogue, a reading experience that has been refined for over a decade, and a device ecosystem that works whether you are on a Kindle Paperwhite or your phone.

The catch for readers like me in Nigeria is the country block. Nigeria is not officially supported for Kindle Unlimited, and buying books can depend on which Amazon store your account is connected to. Many of us still have to keep a supported store workaround for access. Add the fact that local cards are constantly declined on international platforms, and the prices are aggressively in dollars that do not play nicely with a depreciated naira.

• Pros: massive catalogue, Kindle Unlimited, polished reading features and excellent syncing.
• Cons: country restrictions, dollar pricing and international payment wahala.

2. Kobo

An underrated alternative that actually treats open standards well and lets you add your own EPUBs without fighting you every step of the way. The catalogue has quietly got better at carrying indie and international titles, and it is a solid option if you like managing your own files.

The annoying part is that you can still run into the same international card payment friction on the global store, depending on your billing profile, and the catalogue is not always as complete as Kindle when you are looking for a specific author.

• Pros: easy EPUB imports, better file control and a less restrictive ecosystem.
• Cons: international payments, some regional limitations and a patchier catalogue.

3. Apple Books

Honestly, as a bookstore in Nigeria, it is a total brick. I have been deep in the Apple ecosystem since 2013, and accessing its actual bookstore locally is still basically impossible. Apple currently only offers public-domain books through Nigerian accounts, so skip it if your main goal is buying new books.

As a reading app, though, it is amazing. It is clean, comfortable and great for storing all the books you already own, especially if you have iCloud enabled. That is why I still use it constantly, even though the store itself gives me nothing.

• Pros: beautiful reading experience, easy EPUB storage, organisation and iCloud sync.
• Cons: the Nigerian bookstore is basically useless for buying current books.

4. Sọna Reader

Sọna is the newbie here, and its differentiator is that it is much more than just a bookstore. It is a full ebook reading app and discovery hub rolled into one, giving you the best of both worlds. You can buy books or import your own EPUB library to read right alongside them, and it also has a built-in eARC hub for requesting advance copies and submitting reviews.

While it may seem Nigerian-first and is still growing its catalogue and traction, it is open to readers and writers around the world. For readers here, it completely removes the local payment nightmare because books can be bought in naira.

• Pros: naira payments, personal EPUB imports, indie books, web and app reading, and eARCs in one place.
• Cons: it is new, so the catalogue and app ecosystem are still growing.

5. Libby

Libby is a gift that will not stop giving for readers like me in Nigeria who want to support authors and still read legally. It was built around library systems in places like the UK and US, so the catch is that you need access to a card from a participating library.

Once you are in, you are entirely restricted to whatever collection that particular library holds, and popular books can have ridiculous waiting lists. Still, for free books and audiobooks, it is hard to beat when you have access. The app is easy to use, loans return automatically, and you can download books to read offline.

• Pros: free legal access, ebooks, audiobooks, magazines and offline reading.
• Cons: library-card access, waiting lists and being limited to one library’s collection.

All platform availability checked in July 2026. Features, pricing and country access can change.

So, which one should you use?

My honest takeaway is that I use all of them because they all serve different purposes.

• Kindle for KU and books I cannot find elsewhere.
• Kobo when I want more control over my files.
• Apple Books for storing all the book files I own, and because I am deep in the Apple ecosystem.
• Sọna because it handles local payments seamlessly and lets me read my own files, access eARCs and browse a growing catalogue.
• Libby when I am feeling patient enough to work the library system.

So my recommendation is simple, use them all. Or at least use the combination that lets you find the books you want, read comfortably and avoid going broke.

Full disclosure: I am Sọna’s founder, which is precisely why I know how awesome it is. I built it because I was tired of everything else falling short.

What do you use and why? Tell me in the comments. I am always looking for amazing features that can be integrated into Sọna, hehe.

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Cassava Republic Press is delighted to announce the world rights acquisition of The A–Z of Rocks and Minerals of Africa, a debut, fully-illustrated middle-grade non-fiction title by author and mining specialist, Allison George, publishing in Autumn 2027.

Critical minerals touch every aspect of our lives, from the technology and games we love, to the medicine we depend on, to the policies that govern our lives. Building on her expertise and experience in this sector, George translates the importance of these rocks into a rich and comprehensive journey of discovery for young readers in The A–Z of Rocks and Minerals of Africa.

Africa holds some of the richest mineral wealth on earth – gold, uranium, cobalt, coltan and diamonds. This timely and comprehensive book aimed at readers aged 8 – 12 introduces young readers to the rocks and minerals found across the continent; where they come from, how they shape the technology in their pockets and homes, and why the ground beneath them matters to the whole world.

Acquiring Editor Layla Mohamed said: The A-Z of Rocks and Minerals of Africa is a vital recontextualising of Africa and its resources for young readers, as well as providing a vital framework for understanding the world around us. Working on this book has been a source of endless discovery for me; and through Allison’s rich insight she has compiled a work that is perfectly placed to inspire new understanding and respect for the natural world in young minds.

Author Allison George commented:  I’m excited to see this book come to life! What began as a fascination with minerals has grown into a story about how Africa – and the world – has been shaped by the minerals beneath our feet. This is a story for both the moment and the future. It helps children understand the building blocks of everyday life – where they come from, why they matter, and how they connect us all. I hope it sparks curiosity and inspires young readers to engage the world around them differently.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ALLISON GEORGE is a mining expert, global advisor, and storyteller on a mission to change how we see the materials that shape our world.  With over 20 years of experience across Africa, Europe, Latin America, and Asia, Allison has worked at the forefront of mining, sustainability, geopolitics, and resource policy. She has advised governments, industry leaders, and global organisations on responsible mining, community impact, and the future of critical minerals, giving her a rare ability to connect big global themes with everyday life. Alongside her writing, Allison serves as a Senior Strategic Advisor and holds board and leadership roles with the World Resources Forum, African Mining Indaba, Resourcing Tomorrow, Women in Mining UK, International Women in Mining (IWiM), and Afrimine, where she champions the next generation of mining leaders.

The post CASSAVA REPUBLIC ACQUIRES DEBUT CHILDREN’S ALPHABETICAL GUIDE TO AFRICA’S MINERALS appeared first on Cassava Republic Press.

At the heart of The Aquatics is a friendship that refuses to remain private. As political oppression closes in, the bond between Katmé and Samy becomes more than a source of comfort, it becomes a test of loyalty, courage, and moral conviction. In this reflection, author, Osvalde Lewat explores friendship not simply as an emotional connection, but as a form of resistance against fear, conformity, and the forces that seek to isolate us from one another.

Friendship is often portrayed as a comfort zone and a space of emotional reciprocity. In my novel, however, it is first and foremost an ordeal — a moral, political, and existential one. I wanted to explore that moment when one’s bond with another person ceases to be comfortable because it becomes costly, that is, the moment when remaining loyal to someone threatens our social position, our privileges, our security, and sometimes even the image we have constructed of ourselves.

Friendship is not a  bond protected by law, ritual, or biology. It exists only as long as one is willing to remain loyal to it. In The Aquatics, friendship becomes an absolute moral demand precisely because it offers no social cover. Katmé can justify her marriage, her motherhood, but she cannot justify abandoning Samy without betraying herself. Ideologies can be abstracted, postponed, rationalized. Friendship is immediate. It places a face in front of you and asks: What will you do now? Samy’s arrest forces Katmé to confront the gap between what she believes is right and what she is willing to risk. That gap is where the novel truly unfolds.

At the beginning of the novel, Katmé is a woman who has learned to survive through compromises. Raised in an environment where social scrutiny, patriarchal norms, and political order deeply shape individual lives, she learned early on to limit her desires in order to protect herself from disenchantment. Married to a powerful man, she gradually renounced herself — her profession, her aspirations, and an essential part of her inner freedom as a woman. As Samy puts it, she has accepted to live “as a lesser version of herself.” Katmé exists in a state of disenchanted lucidity in which social comfort has gradually replaced inner desire.

Samy is a deeply sensitive and vulnerable sculptor. He would use his work as a catalyst to make visible the social and political realities that those in power would kill to keep it folded. His arrest acts upon Katmé as a kairos, that is, a decisive turning point after which it becomes impossible to continue living as before. Until then, she had managed to maintain a precarious coexistence between her inner conscience and the structures of domination in which she was passively complicit. But when someone you love becomes the target of political power oppression, neutrality as an abstract position becomes an a non-affordable luxury that position you in the rank of an accomplice.

It is at this point that I see friendship as a position of resistance against the oppression.

Because, Katmé and Samy have been bound since adolescence by an all-encompassing friendship, let say fraternal in nature. Through the upheavals of their respective lives, they have always been for one another a place of refuge, an anchor, even a place to necessarily return to. But this friendship beyond being solely emotional embodies also a form of ethics. Here, being a friend means accepting to be transformed by the existence of your alter ego.

Standing by Samy means, for Katmé, risking her social status, her privileges, her comfort, the stability of her marriage, and the entire world of protection in which she had settled. Everything encourages her to distance herself to her friend to protect her respectability. In societies shaped by fear and arbitrariness, abandonment would often become the implicit condition of social survival for some people.

 The true cost of loyalty is not only external. Remaining beside someone when everything pushes you toward abandonment can destroy the social self you once were. This can put you in the margins of a world, an order, an identity in which you had learned to hide yourself. Yet that loss can also become a way of saving oneself inwardly. For Katmé, supporting Samy means risking the life she has built for herself, but refusing to do so would mean surrendering completely to her own fear and inner capitulation.

Katmé’s journey reflects the idea that acts of resistance are often born from human attachment more from ideological conviction. The friendship between Katmé and Samy thus becomes a space irreducible to political control, a way of refusing to let another person disappear alone.

Through Samy, Katmé is forced to face the distance between the life she is living and the one she might have invented for herself. In this sense, friendship functions in the novel as a force of revelation. True friends are sometimes those who make our own inner escape impossible.

I believe that authoritarian regimes, as well as social systems founded on domination,  seek to isolate individuals: dissidents, artists, minorities, vulnerable beings, you name them. Isolation produces fear, fear in it turn  invents consent. Friendship, by contrast, creates a form of intimate solidarity that resists such fragmentation. It reminds us that there is still a place where a human being cannot be reduced to their social function, their fear, or their usefulness.

In the novel, loving a friend all the way through therefore is a radical political act in its very simplicity, that is, the act of refusing to abandon your friend means if you don’t do so, you are betraying yourself.

Shop The Aquatics

The post ON FRIENDSHIP AS RESISTANCE appeared first on Cassava Republic Press.

Award-winning photographer and writer Osvalde Lewat shares the winding path that led her to write her novel in this edition of Behind the Story. What began as a long-postponed dream became an unexpected lesson in patience, and perseverance. From bargaining with herself to confronting the realities of the creative process, her story is a candid reflection on what it truly takes to bring a book to life.

For years, writing and I were engaged in a long hide-and-seek game. I would tell myself: “Soon. I’ll start soon. Just one more exhibition, one more film, and then I’ll do it.” The novel I carried within me haunted me, yet I kept it far away from me. I even ended up making a deal with my ancestors: “If the next exhibition I’m preparing is as successful as I hope it will be, I’ll stop everything and start writing.” The exhibition exceeded all my expectations, but I didn’t stop.

One day, on my way to the opening of one of my exhibitions, I missed a few steps on a staircase. Four, to be exact. And life, mischievous as ever, forced me to stay still thanks to a minor sprain. I could barely move around for an entire year. Stuck at home, I had no choice but to pick up my computer and begin writing my novel. Since I was spending my days doing nothing but writing, I was convinced that within three or four months I would have a finished novel ready to send to publishers. Whenever I grew tired of writing, I would flip through online directories and make a list of publishing houses to which I would send my manuscript.

After six months, I completed a first draft. It was unreadable. But I didn’t know it, because I had written it in one breath, convinced the muse had spoken to me. Impatient and excited, I sent it — the moment I typed the final sentence — to a few close friends of mine known for not beating around the bush. The same day, one of them told me: “Above all, don’t quit photography. And think very carefully before deciding to become a writer, alright?”

Then I reread what I had written. I could not believe I was the one who had produced something so infect. That is when I became aware of the immense gap between what existed in my mind and what I had actually crafted on the pages. Two months. It took me two months to swallow my pride. Then I humbly went back to work with patience. Instead of the three or four months I had imagined it would take to finish my novel, I made it three years to be done.

SHOP The Aquatics

]]> https://chatempire.ng/forums/thread/the-mercy-step-is-shortlisted-for-the-womens-prize-for-fiction/#post-46975 https://chatempire.ng/forums/thread/the-mercy-step-is-shortlisted-for-the-womens-prize-for-fiction/#post-46975 Thu, 23 Apr 2026 02:29:54 +0000 tkc<span class="bp-verified-badge"></span>

Today is a day we will never forget.

The Mercy Step by Marcia Hutchinson has been shortlisted for the 2026 Women’s Prize for Fiction and in doing so, Cassava Republic Press has become the first Black-owned African independent publisher to reach the shortlist in the prize’s 30-year history.

This news is coming in the same month we turn twenty years old. We started in Abuja in 2006 with no capital, no contacts and no roadmap, just an unshakeable conviction that stories from the African world, owned by Africans, belonged to the world.

The Mercy Step is the story of Mercy, the youngest child of a Windrush-generation Jamaican family in 1960s Bradford, navigating a household shaped by her father’s violence and her mother’s fierce love. It is Marcia Hutchinson’s debut novel. She became a full-time writer at sixty.

That is the book on the shortlist today and we’re so very proud. 

Bibi Bakare-Yusuf, our Founder and Publishing Director, said: “We are honoured, and we are proud. This is why independent, Black-owned publishing matters. Not as a corrective to the mainstream, but as a home. A place where a writer can debut at sixty. Where a story rooted in Black British life can be treated with the full literary ambition it deserves. We started in Abuja twenty years ago with passion and an unshakeable belief that African storytelling belonged to the world. Today, the world agrees.”

The winner of the £30,000 prize will be announced on 11 June 2026. The paperback edition of The Mercy Step is available from 30 April 2026.

Thank you to every reader, bookseller and supporter who has walked this road with us. We’re only here because of you.

— The Cassava Republic Team

]]> https://chatempire.ng/forums/thread/america/#post-43799 https://chatempire.ng/forums/thread/america/#post-43799 Fri, 13 Mar 2026 02:22:34 +0000 tkc<span class="bp-verified-badge"></span>

Terhemba Wuam

America! America!

What are your transgressions?

That Donald Trump

To the depths of hell

Is taking you.

]]> https://chatempire.ng/forums/thread/america-2/#post-43800 https://chatempire.ng/forums/thread/america-2/#post-43800 Fri, 13 Mar 2026 02:22:34 +0000 tkc<span class="bp-verified-badge"></span>

Terhemba Wuam

America! America!

What are your transgressions?

That Donald Trump

To the depths of hell

Is taking you.

This week, The Mercy Step by Marcia Hutchinson was longlisted for the 2026 Women’s Prize for Fiction and shortlisted for the Discover Prize at the British Book Awards.

We have been sitting with that sentence all week.

Here is the part of this story we want to share with you.

The Mercy Step is Marcia Hutchinson’s debut novel. She is in her sixties. Before it found a home with us, it was passed over more than 50 times. We say that not to dwell on the difficulty of that journey, but because it speaks directly to why Cassava Republic exists.

And yet. Here we are.

When we first read this manuscript, something shifted in the room. Drawing on Hutchinson’s own experiences growing up in a Jamaican immigrant family in 1960s Bradford, it follows young Mercy through family, faith, and fear with a voice so precise, so full of wit and quiet defiance, that we couldn’t imagine it not existing in the world.

So, we published it. That is what independent publishers do. We back the books we believe in, even when the path has been long and difficult. Marcia’s voice had been long prepared for this moment. We simply had the privilege of opening the door.

This is why small, independent, Black-owned publishing matters. Not as a corrective. But as a home. A place where a writer in her sixties can debut. Where a story rooted in Black British life can be treated with the full literary ambition it deserves. Where writers who bring new perspectives to British storytelling are not an afterthought but the entire point.

If you haven’t yet read The Mercy Step, this is your moment. A story that stayed with us from the very first page and will stay with you too.

To everyone who has already read it, championed it, pressed it into someone else’s hands: thank you. You are the reason stories like this one find their audience.

This is why supporting independent publishers to exist and produce more books like this is crucial. Every book you buy from a small press, every review you leave, every time you recommend an indie title, it all matters more than you know.

The Mercy Step is available now on our website and wherever books are sold.