Review: Remote Control by Nnedi Okorafor

Remote Control cover (The face of a young girl wearing large circular earrings is illuminated in a green light, a forest visible in her features).
I'm at a little bit of a loss for how best to describe Nnedi Okorafor's 2021 novella Remote Control, simply because even after having finished it, I'm not entirely sure that I'm capable of summarizing what this book was about. To be clear this is not a bad thing, but in fact the opposite. There is a space that exists in Okorafor's writing which stands in contrast to the novella's very brief 159 pages, and which causes this story to often recede in on itself in a way that defies easy categorization.

Outwardly, Remote Control is a very simple and perhaps even archetypal novella about a girl who embarks on a quest to remember her name, with the plot detailing the various characters and obstacles she must confront in order to complete her journey. Yet as the story advances, this simple narrative touches upon so many contrasting themes and subjects that the novella starts to feel more like a portal to dozens of entirely separate and self-contained storylines. All of these  briefly entwine with one another, only to vanish when they veer off toward their own respective fates.

By the time it reaches its ending, Remote Control's eclectic-yet-also-focused narrative has come to contain everything from a dystopian science fiction story about mass surveillance, a post-colonial narrative about a corrupt pharmaceutical company, a coming of age fantasy about a child given a supernatural power, and a surrealist fable about a dangerously destructive extraterrestrial artifact summoned to Earth by a sentient tree. Yet throughout it all, the book also retains a laser-focused understanding of its own subject-matter, maintaining a thematic cohesion that perhaps transcends even literal plot itself.

Remote Control (Summary)

The protagonist of Remote Control is Fatima, who at the start of the novella is a six-year-old girl living in a near-future version of suburban Ghana. Regularly afflicted with bouts of Malaria that force her to spend her days in the shade of a large shea tree in her backyard, Fatima's story begins as she passes much of her time drawing symbols in the dirt--symbols which she imagines reflect words that she sees written in the constellations of the night sky. One evening, Fatima witnesses a meteorite land in her backyard, and shortly thereafter discovers a mysterious box now buried in the ground there. Inside this box, she finds a strange glowing green seed that wards away the malaria-carrying mosquitos that torment her so much, and quickly adopts the habit of bringing this object with her wherever she goes.

Soon however, this seed proves to be far more than Fatima is aware. When a local politician referred to only as "the man with golden shoes" arrives at Fatima's home and forcibly takes this item from her (paying her father a small fortune for it in the process), she undergoes a frightening transformation. Deprived of whatever unseen influence the seed seemed to have been exerting, Fatima spontaneously develops the ability to unleash lethal blasts of radioactive green light that kill all life in her immediate vicinity. When the panic of a sudden traffic accident causes Fatima to mistakenly take the lives of everyone in her hometown (family included), she looses all memory of her name, and then responds to her grief by adopting the alternate title of Sankofa. With no home to return to, Fatima (or rather now Sankofa) sets out on a quest to reclaim the alien seed that was stolen from her, all in the hope that doing so might help her remember who she is.

Soon, Sankofa's journey across Ghana leads her to become something of a real-world grim reaper -- the semi-mythologized "adopted daughter of the angel of death" who moves from town to town, and whose arrival is regularly greeted with terror by almost everyone whom she meets. Befriending only a solitary fox who is mysteriously immune to her life-taking powers (and who soon comes to play the role of something akin to a disinterested guide who trails her from a distance), Sankofa eventually discovers that a variety of competing interests have taken note of her new powers, all while contrasting stories of her life spread out ahead of her as she travels.

Meanwhile, the alien item that Sankofa is searching for seems to begin moving from town to town as if under its own power, with Sankofa herself slowly coming to suspect that whatever force animates this object is taunting her -- leading her onwards to a fate that is perhaps very different from the one she pursues.

Main Review

Probably the most prevalent theme throughout Remote Control is its protagonist's identity, and the subjective way in which the nature of Sankofa's existence seems to change depending on who perceives her. The surface level plot of the novella frequently features scenarios in which Sankofa confronts contradictory stories about who she is, with many whom she meets over the course of the novella viewing her as an inhuman monster, even as her actions are conclusively shown to imply the opposite.

This is first demonstrated in the novella's opening chapter -- a scene in which Sankofa (now 14 after having pursued the alien seed for years) is forced to kill a gateman standing guard at a large house which she visits in search of food. In this scene, Sankofa arrives in an unfamiliar town, and calls upon the hospitality of the wealthiest family she can find there (asking only for an evening meal, and a new change of clothes). Yet despite being met with admittedly reticent hospitality by her wealthy hosts, upon leaving, the guard standing by the house's gate reveals to Sankofa that she had previously killed his brother in another town, and then proceeds to draw a gun on her, proudly proclaiming that he will avenge his brother's death.

After Sankofa instinctively uses her life-taking powers to defend herself (vaporizing the bullet from the gateman's gun in mid air with a blast of radioactive light that instantly kills him) she then explains to his remains that there was far more to the story of his brother's death than he was aware. Specifically, when answering the gateman's final question to her of whether or not the so-called "child of the devil" remembers the names of the people whom she kills, Sankofa says:

"Your brother's name was Kwaku Samuel Agya and his cancer was so advanced that it had eaten away most of his internal organs. I did not cause this cancer, gateman. I happened to walk into his village when he was ready to die. He asked me to take him. His wife asked me to take him. His son asked me to take him. His best friend asked me to take him." Tears fell from her eyes as she spoke. Then she pushed away the pain in her chest. She muted it as she'd learned to do over the years. (p.24)

As an opening chapter, this scene sets up what perhaps becomes the single reoccurring theme unifying all of Remote Control. Initially introduced as a mythic and even supernatural being whose arrival in the town triggers fear, Sankofa is quickly established as a kind and even compassionate individual whose humility stands in contrast to the frightening life-taking powers she possesses. In this way, it's quickly established that the horrific stories about Sankofa that cast her as the "adopted daughter of the angel of death" are, if not exactly inaccurate, at least incomplete. When the gateman attempts to enact revenge on Sankofa, it is because he's failed to realize (whether due to his own grief, or simple lack of knowledge) the many ways in which the stories he's heard of Sankofa's actions conceal the truth of his brother's death, and her part in it.

This theme is further complimented by the way in which Okorafor frequently seems to blend contrasting genres of fiction into Remote Control's setting. As Sankofa continues her journey (with the novella quickly backtracking through her life to fill the reader in on the details of her origins), she learns that she is not the only individual interested in acquiring the alien seed. Not only is the local government actively seeking to prevent her from reacquiring this item, but so too have the American Military begun cordoning off those towns which Sankofa previously visited, all while a large multinational pharmaceutical company called "LifeGen" has begun buying up land in Ghana so as to begin conducting illegal human experiments (presumably with the intent of harnessing the force that gave Sankofa her powers).

These dystopian sci-fi elements are then juxtaposed with more overtly fantastical story devices, such as supernatural entities who occasionally encounter Sankofa as she wanders the wilderness, and proceed to either offer her guidance (in the case of the perpetually silent fox who becomes her constant companion), or challenge (in the case of a large and clearly supernatural leopard with whom she does battle very late in the plot). The end effect of these disparate elements is to convey the sense that the story of Sankofa's life exists between multiple narratives simultaneously, with the book often straying into what normally would be considered entirely separate genres of fiction as Sankofa pursues the alien seed from town to town.

This sense that the story of Sankofa's life defies genre itself is perhaps best demonstrated via an especially imaginative sequence halfway through the book -- a sequence which in its own way seems to function as a distillation of the novella's themes. As she pursues the trail of the alien seed, Sankofa eventually arrives at a large city which she dubs "RoboTown" (so named because of the giant traffic-directing Robot that has been erected at its center. Upon arriving in RoboTown, Sankofa is initially met with fear and suspicion by the people of the city, only to eventually be taken in by an imposing woman named Alhaja.

Alhaja runs an electronics shop which sells advanced "jelli telli" flex-screen television sets, and requires Sankofa's aid due to the fact that her store is being threatened by a local crime group plotting to steal her inventory. With her plight having been abandoned by the police, Alhaja instead hopes that she might be able to use the fear Sankofa commands to her advantage -- warding away burglars with Sankofa's presence in her store. However, what is most interesting about Alhaja is the wry humor that initially exists in her interactions with Sankofa. When introducing Alhaja, the text reads:

She was a tall big woman and both of her arms were heavily tattooed. Sankofa had seen plenty of women with tattoos, they had things like hearts, boyfriends' names, sexy animals, symbols chosen by local juju men. Never had she seen anyone, woman or man, with tattoos of circuitry. Just like the insides and parts of computers she saw sold in every market she passed through. This woman had them running up both her arms like a disease.
    "You're smaller than I imagined you," she [Alhaja] said with a smirk. She took a puff from her cigarette and exhaled the smoke. It smelled sweet and heady. This was the type of cigarette that made people see God, slowed time and attracted happiness.
    "Maybe your imagination is not big enough," Sankofa said." (p.88)

Similar to how prior characters insisted on imposing their own identities and stories upon Sankofa's life, Alhaja's very first comment to Sankofa is to remark that she doesn't conform to the narratives that precede her. However, rather than being a point of tension, the nature in which Sankofa contradicts her own reputation is something which Alhaja soon accepts without complaint, proving herself to be far more compassionate than her introduction might have implied. In this way, after driving away the group threatening Alhaja's shop, Sankofa briefly earns the respect of the citizens of RoboTown, even taking lessons in the Koran from a kind woman named Sister Kumi (the wife of RoboTown's local Imam).

Yet Sankofa's brief happiness in RoboTown is soon cut short in a tragic event that in and of itself seems to function as an encapsulation of the novella's themes. Despite being accepted by the residents of RoboTown, Sankofa soon finds that her every movement in this city is being tracked by drones dispatched by the giant mechanical entity for which the city is named. Even more concerning is that while this so-called "robocop" regularly converses with RoboTown's other residents, its drones insist on trailing Sankofa's every movement, recording her day to day activities while also ignoring any words she speaks to them.

Eventually, the robocop's bizarre obsession with Sankofa results in a traffic accident that leaves several dead, and in the aftermath, the robocop is questioned as to the nature of its failure by Sister Kumi (who in turn is revealed to be the robocop's original programmer). The robocop's responses to Sister Kumi's questions ultimately indicate that because this entity has been unable to classify who Sankofa is (essentially, because much like Sankofa herself, it cannot determine her name), it cannot tolerate being in a city where she exists. The text reads:

The robocop whose name Sankofa now knew was "Steel Brother" paused. It looked at Sankofa, as well. And as it did, its remaining drone came down and hovered feet above their heads. "That one there [Sankofa] has no digital footprint. How can one have no digital footprint? No device, no face recognition software can recognize, no voice that responds to my voice recognition software. And that one there, she is... that one there, she is... that one there, she is..."
    Then Steel Brother seemed to freeze, its massive head turned toward Sankofa. Sister Kumi looked at her husband. "What's wrong with it?" the Imam asked.
    "I don't know!" Sister Kumi whispered.
    "That one there, she is," Steel Brother said, this time more decisively. "...Confusion. I experience confusion because of her. I spend memory on that one. I burn my energy stores on that one. Trying to understand. For me to do my job, I have to have information. That one there, she is distracting. I was gathering information on that one and that one took my eyes." (p.125)

The implication of this scene seems to be that the robocop's obsession with Sankofa derives from its inability to classify her existence -- an inability that in and of itself parallels Sankofa's own difficulty in recalling her name, and the many contrasting and contradictory narratives about her which she has encountered in her journey. As a result, even while the majority of the residents of RoboTown accept Sankofa without question, this segment of the novella illuminates how the rigid nature of the robocop's mechanized worldview cannot tolerate the existence of beings outside of the paradigm through which it perceives the world.

In effect, Sankofa's brief (and ultimately tragic) time in RoboTown functions as something of a nexus of the novella's themes, with Sankofa finding herself in a society whose people are for the most part perfectly willing to accept her, even as the mechanized authority governing that community is incapable of conceptualizing (and therefore accepting) her existence. Ultimately, it's this refusal on the part of the robocop to accept Sankofa which proves most dangerous, with the institutions of RoboTown itself seeming to reject her, even as the residents show themselves to be perfectly willing to do the opposite.

Conclusion

There is a moment in Remote Control's final chapters in which the novella begins reflecting back on the various experiences Sankofa has had over the course of the text, all while relating the contrasting stories that others have created in response to these events. There's a vaguely disjointed quality to these narratives, with some of the stories that Sankofa encounters casting her as a horrific monster which feeds on life like a vampire, while other stories attribute her life-taking powers to aliens said to have arrived on Earth via a black hole. (p.150)

In each case, the only real point of commonality that all of these stories seem to share is that they are clearly false, and reveal far more about their tellers than they do about the person whom they purport to describe. By this point in the book, it's apparent to the reader that the reality of Sankofa's life is both simpler, humbler, stranger, and more tragic than anyone seems capable of perceiving.

It's difficult to summarize the way in which Remote Control ends, or even for that matter how it ends, but there is an undeniable closure to the novella's final line that gives the story a clear finality. Even when the literal plot of the novella may leave the reader with far more questions than they started off with, the ambiguous manner in which Remote Control concludes also seems the most fitting resolution it could reach.

Perhaps much like its protagonist, Remote Control ultimately shows itself to be complete, even when it defies interpretation.


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