If you’ve read Nikki May’s debut novel Wahala, then you already know she doesn’t do quiet stories. Her second novel, This Motherless Land is just as dramatic and emotional, keeping you turning the pages.

This time, the story moves between two very different places: Lagos and Somerset. And as the book cleverly shows, trouble does not respect geography. It follows the characters wherever they go. Nikki May writes in a way that is easy to read, yet deeply engaging, making even a long novel feel smooth.

Driving the story are two cousins, Funke (also known as Kate) and Liv. Through them, we also meet a range of unforgettable characters, including Funke’s mother, Lizzie, a British woman married into a Nigerian family. Her life in Nigeria is rich and full of warmth, until a family tragedy shifts everything to Somerset.

The Nigerian sections of the book are especially captivating. Lagos is written with colour, energy, and life, and at times you almost wish the story never leaves. But when it moves to Somerset, the tone changes. Things feel colder and more tense, with moments that touch on racism, emotional strain, and family conflict. This contrast between the two settings is one of the strongest parts of the novel.

Family relationships sit at the centre of the story. There is conflict between two sisters, and that tension quietly passes on to the next generation. Interestingly, the cousins, Funke and Liv, try to build something better than what their mothers had. Their bond is loving but complicated, tested again and again by trust issues, loyalty, and personal struggles.

The novel unpacks many themes: grief, identity, jealousy, race, culture, love, survival, and many more. One striking observation is how differently boys and girls are treated in both Nigeria and England, with male children often favoured. It is uncomfortable at times, but it reflects real societal issues and makes the story more thought-provoking.

Nikki May’s portrayal of Nigeria in the 1970s, 80s, and even 90s is detailed and vivid. The descriptions feel so real that it almost seems like personal memory rather than research. Lagos, especially the elite lifestyle, is written with such familiarity that it often brings a smile. She also uses Nigerian slang naturally in the dialogue, which adds authenticity, even if some readers may need to pause and look up meanings.

There is also a quiet humour running through the book. It is not loud or obvious, but subtle, you might miss it if you’re not paying attention. The characters themselves are very well drawn: some are warm and relatable, others are cold and difficult to like, which makes the story feel more realistic.

At times, the book does slow down and may feel a bit boring. But patience pays off, because towards the end the story becomes more engaging and emotionally satisfying. It eventually leads to a neat, predictable ending, though without a big surprise or dramatic “wow” moment.

Interestingly, there is a surprising twist in perspective: Nigeria is sometimes shown as a place of safety for Kate, while England feels emotionally harsh and toxic. This reversal challenges expectations and shows how “home” is not always about geography, but about belonging.

Overall, This Motherless Land is an emotional, deeply engaging family drama filled with culture, conflict, and connection. It may not always move at a fast pace, but it leaves you thinking about family ties, identity, and how deeply our past shapes who we become.