‘That evening, Linda walked home slowly. The sky was painted in hues of orange and violet, the kind of sunset that made the world feel like a painting. As she turned the corner near the old chapel, she saw him.
He stood across the road, leaning against a rusted bicycle, his gaze steady and unflinching. He wasn’t from the village-his clothes were too clean, his posture too confident. There was something about him that felt out of place, like a comma in the middle of a sentence.
Their eyes met. He didn’t smile. He didn’t look away. Linda felt something stir inside her. Not recognition, but curiosity. Not warmth, but heat. She walked past him, her steps measured, her heart suddenly loud,’ reads some of page 12 from the novelette, The Space Between Us, by Kibirige Desire Edward.
First, let’s get the word ‘novelette’ out of the way. It’s a noun and generally assumed to be derogatory. It means ‘a short novel, typically one that is light and romantic or sentimental in character.’
It’s a work of narrative fiction that is longer than a short story but shorter than a novel, typically between 7,500 and 17,500 words. It is often considered a “long short story” or a “short novella”, this gives it a sort ‘neither here nor there’ quality, which explains why the word is often assumed to be derogatory.
It’s derogated, probably, towards the demand that it makes up its mind to become the literature it can and should be. And not a compromise between the two. Well, that’s what I think.
Although this novel was well-written, it’s a little too tidy for my literary palate. The sentences are the same or of similar length. The language is a little repetitive and seems unnatural. Detached, impersonal and frequently laconic, it has little ‘drawing power’. Seemingly alienating the reader by its formulaic approach to storytelling.
An approach which seems suspiciously AI-complaint. I am not saying this novelette is generated by AI, but the changes in style, tone, or tense did raise a red flag. Nonetheless, let’s wave that away by giving the author the benefit of the doubt.
I felt that although the story is well-paced, despite its intermittent tautology, it would have done itself and its readers a world of good if the diction and story was more Ugandan. It’s true. Love stories are of a universal nature. Love exists wherever it maybe found or nurtured.
It has no borders. However, love can be context-specific and couples-specific in its peculiarity. That’s why there are no two identical love stories. My thinking is that a Ugandan love story must involve things like Gonja, for one. There’s nothing that says I love you in these parts than giving a love interest food that’s a staple and thus stapled to the dos of interacting with who we seek to ‘do’ or say ‘I do’ too.
Doing being the operative verb denoting how our interactions are choreographed by how we treat one another. Herein lies the devil in the details. In some cases, in this vein, love is expressed by the exact opposite of what it appears to be. The author somewhat agrees.
‘The Space Between Us is more than a story-it’s a mirror held up to the quiet fractures that form in relationships when truth is replaced by silence. I didn’t write this to cast blame or glorify betrayal. I wrote it to explore the emotional terrain that so many walk alone: the longing for connection, the ache of absence, and the choices we make when our hearts feel unheard,’ explains the author.
‘Linda’s journey is not unique. It echoes the experiences of countless people who find themselves torn between loyalty and desire, between what they have and what they crave.’