In Notes of Aladin, Alhassan Yusuf doesn’t just write—he documents. The debut novel from the Nigerian writer is a fearless portrait of survival and self-invention in a society that promises little and delivers even less.
Across journal-style entries, Yusuf captures what it means to be young, qualified, jobless, and determined to remain sane in a country where even hope feels overpriced.
The debut novel which straddles memoir and fictionalized diary, marks a significant entry into contemporary Nigerian writing—one that confronts economic disenfranchisement, job insecurity, and the quiet mental toll of being stuck in limbo. But it also does something far rarer: it manages to be funny, tender, and disarmingly hopeful.
A Christian by faith and Muslim by name, Yusuf’s religio-cultural influences brings a multicultural lens to his work. His faith and name are not just biographical details—they are narrative tools that allow him to bridge identities, geographies, and generations. His language swings between Queen’s English and Nigerian Pidgin with ease, unmasking the multiple worlds today’s Nigerian youth must inhabit just to survive.
“My name confuses people,” Yusuf says. “I’m a Christian with a Muslim name, from two different tribes. That duality taught me early that stories don’t have to pick sides—they just have to be honest. That’s what I try to do with my language and with aLadin.”
“Hope is a stubborn thing,” the narrator aLadin reflects in the very first entry, “It clings to you like the harmattan dust of Abuja.”
From that moment, Yusuf takes the reader on an intimate, and at times excruciating, journey through unpaid internships, exploitative sales jobs, and the soul-sucking rhythm of applying for roles that require five years of experience from fresh graduates. Through it all, aLadin becomes a stand-in for the millions of African youths disillusioned by their countries, yet still hungry to make meaning of the mess.
Notes of aLadin is not a protest book in the traditional sense. It doesn’t storm gates or shout slogans. Instead, it resists quietly—through survival, through wit, through narration. Each entry becomes an act of resistance against invisibility.
The writing is diary-like but polished; raw but reflective. Alhassan Yusuf, who recently completed his Master’s in Mass Communication at the University of Bournemouth, brings a journalist’s eye to mundane details and a playwright’s ear to everyday conversation. One moment he’s mocking the unrealistic demands of Nigerian job ads (“Must have five years’ experience and your own car”), and the next, he’s imagining a life where writing online content for foreign clients could be a ticket out of poverty.
If there is a central thesis in Notes of aLadin, it’s that small wins matter. Whether it’s getting a freelance writing gig that pays $30, earning a free plate of rice as a staff meal, or getting a tip from a customer in a chaotic food shop—each is framed not as an escape, but a reason to endure one more day.
What makes Yusuf’s debut truly compelling is its accessibility. The book is not written for the elite literary crowd; it’s written for the everyday hustler, the graduate stuck at home, the parent trying to understand their child’s frustration, the dreamer who still believes in soft life even when their wallet says otherwise.
In mirroring the online conversations, coded tweets, and WhatsApp status updates of contemporary Nigerian youth, Notes of aLadin functions as a cultural time capsule. Yet, it also transcends geography. Aladin could be a young person in Johannesburg, Kingston, Manchester or Chicago—anywhere someone is trying to dream beyond their circumstance.
“This book is my love letter to the ones who wake up each day and try again, despite everything. I wanted to create something that speaks for the young and unseen—the ones who are still searching, still surviving, still hoping,” Yusuf adds.
Alhassan Yusuf may have just published his first novel, but Notes of Aladin announces him as a writer with remarkable emotional clarity, social insight, and voice. At a time when the world is flooded with content, Yusuf offers something rare: honesty, humility, and humour—all wrapped in literary craft. If Notes of aLadin is a coming-of-age story, then it is also a coming-of-awareness: a chronicle of what happens when a generation wakes up to the fact that the future they were promised might never arrive—but they still have to live. This is more than a debut. It’s a declaration.
