Ainehi Edoro-Glines quotations

I publish Brittle Paper so I can tell anyone who cares to listen what I find remarkable about African writing.

The excitement you read in my style is a genuine expression of a reader’s love. African literature is beautiful stuff. As a blogger, I enjoy thinking up innovative ways of getting my readers to put aside all the assumptions and expectations they might have of African writing and simply encounter it from a place of love.

A whole new world of philosophical and literary texts were opened up to me. The more I immersed myself and delved deeper into these texts, I realized that I could not keep this utterly captivating universe of ideas to myself. It wasn’t enough to talk about these things in class with colleagues and Profs. I wanted more.

...when Brittle Paper first started, it was a general interest literary and philosophical blog. It was not centered on African literature.

I did not imagine it would become what it is today. I simply needed an outlet for my postgrad work. My first year as a doctoral student was one of the most intense, frustrating, but also the most beautiful moments in my life.

Readers want to be excited about African literature, especially after decades of being told that African literature is little more than a political and cultural manual for African life.

Contemporary readers want to fall in love with African writing. They want to enjoy it the way they enjoy African pop music and Nollywood. They want to be inspired by their favorite authors and gain access to their lives so that they can become fans. That’s precisely what we offer at Brittle Paper—the chance to consume African literature differently.

Social media and on-site interaction with readers can never be too much. It’s something that one has to keep building.

It’s an honor really for someone to write something and decide to share it with our readers.

I keep my rejection letters gracious and appreciative. When I accept a submission, I try to say a word or two about what I find compelling about the work. So I take submissions seriously. But they can be overwhelming, and I do fall behind.

Activism is probably too strong a word to use for it. But, I do have a politics regarding African writing in the sense that while I love British and Indian literature deeply, I also understand that African literature is the only literature I can really lay claims to or call my own.

At the end of the day, Africans are the only ones who can really champion African literature. It is not enough to complain that the world misunderstands us and our work. We have to take the lead in showing the world what is awesome about African literature and how it should be read.

...I don’t let the fear of getting into trouble decide what I write or don’t write.

As a blogger, you learn to deal with criticisms and insults.

A blog is not a newspaper. If you want bare, unsullied facts, go read a newspaper.

Blogging is all about the slant. How can you take a set of facts, rearrange them, and serve them up to readers in a way that’d make them think or react? Besides, I learned pretty quickly that you can’t please everyone

I’ve run Brittle Paper out of pocket. But Brittle Paper is growing so fast, and it’s become more than clear to me that I need money, not only to run it in its present form, but also to take it to the next level.

Brittle Paper is hard work. It takes its toll—given that I am also in the thick of writing a dissertation. But I love blogging. It’s as simple as that.

As every blogger knows, the bread and butter of good sites is great content. If you write things that people love, they will come to the blog.

Blogging is a totally different beast. When I realized that my training on writing research and conference papers did not really translate into blogging, I had to learn writing all over again. That was challenging!

African literature has not always been reader-driven. For Achebe to write with a straight face that a novelist is a teacher, you know we are dealing with a literary culture where the reader doesn’t really count for much.

The reader is there to be schooled and herded about and put in their place. It’s taken me years to realize how absurd and borderline disturbing Achebe’s statement is. It points to the power differential that has always defined the writer-reader relationship in African literary culture. Really, it’s all about power.

The reason African literature is sometimes preachy and heavy-handed is precisely because it has never really been inspired by the taste and desires of the African reader—by what the reader really wants. It’s been driven, instead, by the African writer and critic’s lust for literary significance.

Give us the “digestible and quickly forgotten” stuff. I want more African writing with mass appeal. I want a Nollywood invasion of African literature. I want African writers to not take themselves too seriously for once and just write novels that Africans would find endlessly delightful and delicious.

I want African writers to sell millions of copies, make good money, and live off their work. This is how publishing industries are nurtured—when they are able to tap into the pulse of mass culture.

I want African writers to find inspiration in what Africans want to read not what they should read or what will save them or educate them or edify them.

The Teju Coles and Adichies and Vladislavicses will continue to write the so-called serious novels for critics and scholars like us. But aside from these “serious” writings, we need a new kind of literary production propelled entirely by the African reader and not the critic

...writing, like any creative ability, can be a gift. But it can also be cultivated. It might require more work, more backbreaking labor, but it certainly can be learned.

A bestselling novel is like any good product. If it’s good quality, and it’s backed by good marketing, it’s a sure-banker success.

Literary critics might claim that they know why Shakespeare became Shakespeare, but the truth is they don’t. If you asked me how a book becomes a classic, I’d say it’s a matter for the gods.

Brittle Paper is the place where you can enjoy African literary stuff without anyone breathing down your neck, preaching to you, policing how and what and why you read. When you visit your favorite fashion or music blog, you expect to be entertained. It’s the same at Brittle Paper. We just want you to have a good time with African writing.

There is an unprecedented global interest in African writing. As a result, my readership is growing in leaps and bounds.

The life of a professor is exciting. There is never a dull moment. When I’m not teaching, I’m doing research, writing an article, or managing the administrative responsibilities that come with running a class. I find teaching literature intellectually fulfilling.

There is nothing as rewarding as being inspired by my students and their work, which happens on a daily basis.

Creativity is seeing opportunity where no one else did. It is finding magic in the humdrum of the everyday and the familiar.

Social media is essentially having access to people’s curated collection of what they think is the best of the best from the web. It’s a wealth of blogging content and ideas.

I see African literature taking the lead in reinventing conventional forms of storytelling. Europeans may have invented the novel, for example, but they are currently as confused as everybody else about what digital and social media technology means for literature.

Quotations with a citation