Fidelis O. Mkparu’s Soulful Return is a poignant and deeply introspective novel that traces the journey of Dr. Afamefuna Nwaku, a Nigerian immigrant and successful physician in Boston, as he confronts the sacrifices he’s made—his family, his culture, his identity—for the promise of success in America. Through powerful narration, the story explores Afam’s growing disconnect from his homeland and loved ones, all culminating in a difficult decision between career ambition and cultural belonging. Woven through with the haunting presence of ancestral voices and dreams of Nigeria, this novel isn’t just about going home, it’s about reckoning with what it means to truly belong.

From the very first chapter, I felt this book hit close to home. That opening scene, Afam sitting on the banks of the Charles River, haunted by invisible drums calling him back to Nigeria, was more than poetic. It was spiritual. That deep ache of being split between two worlds, trying to find comfort in a place that doesn’t fully embrace you, is something I know well. Mkparu captures it all—the rhythm of longing, the quiet pain of assimilation, and the guilt of forgetting where you come from. And when Afam loosens his tie and lets the water lap over his bare feet, it felt like a baptism, like he was trying to wash off decades of silence.

But what really tore me up was the tension in Afam’s marriage. The scenes between him and Elisha hit like a gut punch. When she said, “I feel lonely lying next to you,” I had to put the book down for a minute. That kind of emotional neglect is too real. You can love someone and still be absent from them. Elisha was grieving the life she thought they were building together. And Afam, caught between trying to be a provider and losing sight of being a partner, is a complex portrait of a man who’s been chasing success so long he forgot what he left behind. Mkparu didn’t sugarcoat the cracks in that relationship. He let it bleed on the page.

Then there’s the whole weight of duty—both to his American life and his family back in Nigeria.  It reminded me how often we, as Black men, carry burdens we didn’t ask for. We become bridges between two worlds. Expected to be everything to everyone—patriarchs, professionals, saviors. It’s exhausting. And when Afam stands in front of the hospital wall looking at the executive photo lineup, wondering if his face will be up there or lost in a place that never truly felt like his—man, I felt that.

Mkparu’s writing style is rich but never pretentious. He doesn’t dress his emotions up in fancy words. He lets them spill out. The way he uses flashbacks, dreams, and internal voices keeps the reader grounded in Afam’s inner world without feeling lost. I appreciated how he didn’t resolve things neatly. Life, especially for people caught between cultures, isn’t neat.

I’d recommend Soulful Return to anyone who’s ever felt the pull of two homes, two identities, or two versions of themselves. African Americans, especially, will feel the layers here—the echoes of diaspora, the questioning of what “home” even means. It’s a book for immigrants, yes, but also for anyone who’s chased a dream and then looked around and wondered what they left behind.

Pages: 322 | ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0F1DWCFT8