The Future Looks Good by Lesley Nneka Arimah

Biafra.

Lesley Nneka Arimah’s short-story collection What It Means When a Man Falls from the Sky contains some solid stories, so far. Taken as a whole, the collection hasn’t completely swept me off my feet yet, but I’m always excited to dive into the work of contemporary Black women writers, particularly those from the African diaspora who bring fresh storytelling traditions and cultural perspectives to the page. Black representation in fiction matters. Not just in the sense of “seeing yourself,” but in expanding the kinds of stories, emotional landscapes, and narrative possibilities that literature makes room for. Black women writers, especially, often carve out spaces that challenge the usual boundaries of genre and theme while simultaneously confronting the complexities of identity, history, and resilience. Arimah seems more than capable of doing exactly that.

The Future Looks Good opens with Ezinma trying to unlock her apartment door before everything takes a sharp and shocking turn. I won’t spoil the moment itself, but the story immediately yanks the reader backwards through layered memories of her life and family history, stretching all the way back to 1966 as Nigeria plunges into civil war. However, it's Ezinma's complex relationship with her sister that forms the emotional crux of the story. Arimah uses this flashback structure effectively, as if the past is rushing forward to collide with the present in the very instant Ezinma turns her key. The title, of course, is darkly ironic since there is no hopeful future waiting for Ezinma. Only the weight of inherited trauma, family wounds that have never healed and tragedy await her.

Arimah’s clear-eyed portrayal of how Black women are repeatedly made vulnerable within patriarchal structures, both in public and in private spheres is worthy of note. The story’s violence is presented as a grim reflection of how society often normalizes harm against women while demanding their endurance in the face of it. Arimah exposes these dynamics while showing how generational expectations, gender roles, and power imbalances intertwine to create a world where women like Ezinma are expected to survive everything but are protected from nothing. This story covers a lot of ground within a very confined space, which is impressive and usually a good sign of a talented short-story writer. 

So yes, stay far away if you are in the mood for something uplifting because this one is sad, sad, sad. But it’s also powerful in its sadness, and Arimah doesn’t let any of it feel sensationalized. Instead, she shows how deeply rooted these cycles of pain are and how urgently they need to be named.

You can read this story HERE.