“A Broken People’s Playlist” is a Symphony of Love, Loss, and Redemption — Book Review
Chimeka Garricks weaves interconnected stories of heartache, healing, and the city that binds them all.
When a book has a title like A Broken People’s Playlist, you should be wary. Really wary.
I stumbled into Chimeka Garricks’ collection of short stories by accident — a string of events so perfectly aligned that they didn’t feel that way in the moment. Only in looking back do I see the full picture and appreciate how things played out.
In February 2025, I had a blast reading The Fishermen and wanted more of Chigozie Obioma in my life. But the beginning of An Orchestra of Minorities proved too heavy a red pill to swallow at the time, so I put it aside. That’s how I turned to A Broken People’s Playlist — a book I’d received as an early Valentine’s gift.
The aptly titled book is about — no surprises here — broken people. With 12 stories in tow, all inspired by songs, Garricks offers glimpses into vastly different lives, all bound by themes of family, loss, redemption, and the ever-vivid city of Port Harcourt. Having grown up there himself, Garricks doesn’t just set his stories in Port Harcourt; he breathes life into it. The city lingers in the background, shaping the lives of its inhabitants, ever-present yet never overshadowing the deeply personal narratives unfolding within its bounds.
It took me a while to settle on a structure for this review. Eventually, I landed on what you see here: an overview of the collection, a brief yet meaningful dive into each story and the lingering impact on me, and a closer. My reasoning? If the author took the time to craft 12 stories filled with characters who feel corporeal, the least I could do is acknowledge them inidividually. To put names to the characters that resonated with me the most, to highlight the ones that lingered long after I turned the last page, and — perhaps most importantly — to help the next reader of this memorable book make sense of their own feelings, story after story, starting with that unforgettable first one.
Warning: Spoilers ahead!
I love short stories for their bite-sized nature and the immense effort it takes a writer to build a world, craft complete characters, and tell a compelling story with limited words, so this short stories collection appealed to me immediately. The first story, Lost Stars, initially felt romantic, which is fitting since I started reading it around Valentine’s Day. But by the end, I realized this wasn’t just another love story.
#1 — Lost Stars
No one can forget a story like Lost Stars. The tale of a love so fierce, so pure, that it seemed to frighten fate itself, keeping these two lovers apart for decades. And when they finally dared to challenge destiny, tragedy struck.
Chimeka Garricks plays the god role masterfully, crafting a tale that mirrors real life’s cruel unpredictability. We often fail to appreciate what we have until it’s too late — until Lady Destiny, as if offended by our complacency, snatches it away. This opening story set the tone for the entire collection, shattering any illusions I had about reading a series of sweet, sentimental love stories. By its final lines, Lost Stars had issued a clear reality check, and I surrendered myself completely to its will.
#2 — Music
The second story, Music, helped to ease me out of the emotional wreckage caused by its predecessor. It slowed things down with a quieter, more introspective tale. It follows a randy professor who abandons his wife and children for another woman, leaving his second son, Kwashi — on the cusp of university — to find his way through the chaos. I’ve come to learn that Garricks’ preferred style of writing is subtle; this one doubles down on that. And while the ending doesn’t land with the strongest punch, it lingers with a quiet inevitability: despite his best efforts, the son seems fated to repeat his father’s cycle of womanizing and self-destruction. There’s a lesson in there somewhere, even if the story doesn’t go out of its way to spell it out... yet. We meet Kwashi again in Story #11.
#3 — Hurt
True to its title, Hurt is steeped in pain — every line brimming with grief, regret, and longing. An older brother watches helplessly as his youngest sibling (and only brother) fades away, first consumed by reckless indulgence, then by a brain tumor. An ex-wife is forced to relive the torment of an abusive marriage. Both are bound by a single thread: Dami, the one person who connects their suffering, the one they both wish could take their pain away.
Like much of the collection, this story is effortlessly paced, showcasing the author’s ability to pair raw emotion with vivid imagery. The choice of second-person narration heightens the intimacy, much like in Lost Stars, making both stories standouts. Simple yet deeply affecting, Hurt left an imprint that lingered long after I turned the final page.
#4 — Song For Someone
By the time I reach Song for Someone, I’m fully sold on Chimeka Garricks’ writing style and the central theme of A Broken People’s Playlist. Story after story, these characters reveal themselves as truly broken — just as the title promises — quietly trying to navigate life’s complexities in their own unremarkable yet deeply personal ways. There are no grand, life-altering events here. Everything unfolds in small, intimate corners of the great PH City, yet each character’s struggles feel universal.
For Ukele, a sexually expressive woman with a history of failed relationships, Song for Someone is a story of quiet triumph. She already has everything she needs from the moment we first meet her at the bar — this is merely the story of how it all came together: reconciliation with her once-estranged father and the discovery of a love that finally feels right. Once again, the prose stands out, not just in its lyricism but in its structure — every word, every turn of phrase, feels deliberate. At this point, I’m not just enjoying the book; I’m a full-fledged fan of Garricks’ craft.
#5 — In The City
In The City broke me, pieced me back together, and then shattered me all over again. Part of its power lies in the sheer inevitability of Godson’s fate — a tragic outcome that feels all too familiar for anyone who understands the deep rot within Nigeria’s policing system. This isn’t just Godson’s story; it could be Georgina’s tomorrow, or anyone else’s caught in a place — right or wrong — at any time. From the moment a police chase begins, you can smell the tragedy brewing from miles away. An innocent will be caught in the crossfire, you find yourself saying out loud. Someone will die. And that’s exactly what happens.
What makes In The City even more striking is Garricks’ masterful storytelling. The non-linear structure keeps you engaged, unraveling the events of that ill-fated day in a way that feels both natural and gripping. His prose is vivid, his characters painfully real — despicable yet relatable. Even when you can predict the ending, the journey there still hits like a punch to the gut. If the first four stories hadn’t already convinced you of Garricks’ brilliance, this one surely does. For me, it only reinforced what I already knew at this point: I was in for something special all the way to the final page. I just needed to get past my grief with this one’s ending first.
#6 — I Put a Spell on You
I Put a Spell on You had me in stitches by the end. I was practically choking on laughter. It’s rare to find a writer who can so effortlessly capture the natural, unfiltered rhythm of friends simply hanging out, talking nonsense, and letting the conversation wander without an agenda. But Garricks nails it.
When guys gather, the atmosphere shifts. The air gets lighter, the energy crackles, and no topic is off-limits — especially among longtime friends with a lifetime of shared experiences and inside jokes between them. And oh my God, what a blast it was to sit in on the banter between Buddha, Alex, and Tonse. The way the story moves, smoothly weaving from one person’s drama to the next, is a joy to read. But the real magic? That ending. Like a perfectly set up joke, it lands with the kind of punchline you never saw coming but immediately recognize as genius.
I won’t spoil the details because you deserve that laugh. Just trust me — you’re in for a treat. You’re welcome.
#7 — I’d Die Without You
I’d Die Without You may not hit as hard as some of the stories before it, but that doesn’t make it any less compelling. It follows a man grappling with the ghosts of his past when his wife loses their baby at childbirth. With sparse yet powerful prose, Garricks paints a story of loss and resounding pain that feels both intimate and deeply reflective.
The protagonist lays himself bare, his thoughts circling the connection between his past sins and his present suffering. To his friend Ekiyor, he confesses: “It is God that’s punishing me for Comfort.” Comfort — the naive housemaid he once had an affair with, the girl he persuaded into aborting a pregnancy. His guilt is a heavy thing, shaping the way he interprets his misfortune.
But the story, in its quiet way, offers a different perspective. The world isn’t punishing him. Life is simply unfolding as it always does — unpredictable, indifferent, and painfully human. That realization lingers, a gentle nudge rather than a dramatic revelation.
It’s a good story, no doubt. But in a collection filled with powerhouses, it feels like one of the quieter voices in the room.
#8 — Beautiful War
Beautiful War turns its full attention to the wreckage of infidelity, a theme that has lingered in the background of other stories but takes center stage here. Kenwi (also known as Ken) and Wobia, longtime lovers turned spouses, now parents to a five-year-old, find themselves at a breaking point when Ken’s affair is exposed.
The story unfolds through both perspectives — Ken’s remorse clashing against Wobia’s evolving sense of self. She is no longer just a scorned wife; she is transforming, reclaiming something lost. Meanwhile, Ken is forced to reckon with the possibility that one mistake, his first attempt, might cost him everything.
Can their marriage survive? The story doesn’t leave room for ambiguity. The answer is a resounding NO. And honestly, that’s good enough for me.
#9 — River
River plunges headfirst into the chaos and senseless brutality of confraternities (aka Confra, aka Secret Cults). Our narrator recounts his friendship with Jon, a bond formed in their early jambite days — so tight that they did everything together, including joining a confra. But as time passes, the narrator begins to see the cracks, the futility of it all, and the widening gap between his values and the reckless ideals of the group. He starts to pull away. Jon, however, takes longer to wake up.
Just as Jon begins to embrace a new life — finding fresh purpose with a girl named Biboye — he’s cut down in a brutal confra attack. His death leaves behind nothing but grief, wasted potential, and the cold reality that these cults, for all their posturing, don’t actually give a damn about you.
I had been waiting for this collection to tackle the dark underbelly of cultism. As a passage in the story says, this problem still plagues Nigeria, both in schools and beyond. Port Harcourt, the city at the heart of these stories, has a long and painful history with it. A collection set in this space that doesn’t address cultism would have felt incomplete, no matter how ugly the truth may be.
Garricks doesn’t flinch. He captures the hurt, the violence, the sheer senselessness of it all. River is a reminder: Don’t be like Jon. Confras are silly. Pointless. That’s the message, in case you missed it.
#10 — Love’s Divine
Love’s Divine follows a young boy, Justin (aka JJ), whose dream of being scouted by a foreign football agent turns into a nightmare when he gets scammed by a fraudster posing as a FIFA agent. But in the midst of the disappointment, life throws him an unexpected curveball: family.
Turns out that JJ is the son of Damiete Kuruye-Briggs, the troubled character we first met in Hurt (#3). Dami is long gone, but his older brother, Priye, is still cleaning up his messes. When Priye discovers JJ’s existence 16 years after the fact, he tries to do right by him — stepping in where Dami failed, in line with the deceased’s final wishes. JJ’s mother, however, wants nothing to do with the Kuruye-Briggs family or their money. Still, when JJ inevitably makes a reckless decision, it’s Priye’s support that saves the day.
Unlike some of the heavier, gut-punching stories in this collection, Love’s Divine is infused with hope. There’s no dramatic showdown, no life-shattering twist — just the slow, delicate steps toward reconciliation. The ending hints at the possibility, at the fragile beginnings of something new. It may take time, but you can sense that JJ, his mother, and even the father who raised him might eventually come around.
It’s not the most earth-shattering story, but its quiet, grounded nature makes it relatable. Life isn’t always about big, explosive moments — sometimes, it’s just about finding your way, one small step at a time. And that, too, is worth telling.
#11 — Desperado
Desperado is the story of a man who finds his soulmate in the most unexpected place: his ex-wife. Kwashi once had forever in his grasp but didn’t realize it until it slipped away. Now, in an ironic twist, he and his ex-wife bond deeper after their divorce, as she helps him confront the childhood traumas that may have fueled the issues that wrecked their marriage.
The story takes an unflinching look at the scars of boyhood sexual abuse and the vicious cycles it can create — how abused boys often grow into men battling demons that push them toward self-destruction or, worse, cause them to hurt others. Kwashi, however, isn’t written as a man who drowns in his trauma; he’s self-aware enough to recognize his struggles, even when he falters. His ex-wife’s support and her push for him to seek deeper professional help highlight the importance of healing, even if it’s long overdue.
What makes Desperado stand out is its quiet humanity. Like every other story in this collection, it handles its themes with care, never sensationalizing but simply presenting life as it is — messy and painful but still full of hope. By the end, we find ourselves rooting for Kwashi, just as his ex-wife does. We don’t know if he’ll win every battle, but we do know he’s fighting. And that’s a start.
#12 — You Suppose Know
The first story in A Broken People’s Playlist was about young love cut short before it could fully blossom. So it’s only fitting that the twelfth and final story, You Suppose Know, closes the collection with a tale of enduring love — one that has withstood decades and is only severed at its twilight. This full-circle moment is a beautiful and poetic way to end the journey.
For the fourth time in this collection, we cross paths with Tonse (first in I Put a Spell on You, then in I’d Die Without You, and thirdly in Beautiful War), but this story isn’t really about him. It’s about his parents — two people whose love has weathered four decades of life’s storms. Their deep, unwavering bond catches the attention of Deola, a doctor at Tonse’s clinic, who has a budding love of her own readers of Garricks’ first book, Tomorrow Died Yesterday, will recognize. In their love, Deola sees lessons — about commitment, resilience, and the kind of companionship that makes love feel less like an emotion and more like a steady, grounding force.
But life, as always, takes its toll. When tragedy strikes, the lessons become even more profound, forcing Deola and those around her to confront love’s deepest truths: its joys, its pain, and its indelible mark on those who experience it.
With You Suppose Know, Chimeka Garricks masterfully ties the entire collection together. He reminds us that on the other side of loss and pain lies love in all its forms — fleeting, messy, enduring. Like grief, love, too, is a thread that runs through every story, and it is persevering. And as the book comes to a close, there’s a lingering sense of both sorrow and beauty, like the last note of your favorite song hanging in the air.
Final Thoughts: A Playlist That Echoes Brokenness and the Search for Redemption
A Broken People’s Playlist is a symphony of human experiences, each tale a note in the grand composition of life. Chimeka Garricks wove these stories with such precision that while they stand alone, they also bleed into each other intelligently, creating an intricate web of connections that reward the attentive reader. Tonse, the seemingly calm and collected doctor irked by the actions of a man saddened by the loss of his first child in one story, is the same person reeling in the pleasure of recollecting his philandering ways in another. The story of the reckless Damiete Kuruye-Briggs, whose tragedy unfolds early on, picks up in a different form through the son he never knew. These echoes, these quiet reverberations across different timelines, make the stories feel lived-in, real, and achingly familiar. It’s a nod to Garricks’ ability to craft characters that linger in the mind long after the last page is turned.
At its core, this collection is about broken people. Some are searching, whether they know it or not, for redemption, others for forgiveness, and the rest for something to fill the God-sized holes in their souls. Through heartbreak, loss, regret, and even joy, the stories remind us of life’s simplest and most profound truths: that love and family, however imperfect, matter.
Beyond the deeply personal stories in this collection, A Broken People’s Playlist is also a love letter to Port Harcourt — its beauty, its scars, and the people who call it home. Garricks doesn’t just set his stories here; he lets the city breathe through them and their struggles. Some find solace within its bounds, while others are desperate to escape. Either way, Port Harcourt remains, bearing witness to it all.
Garricks’ book has deepened my understanding of the human experience — how chaotic, how beautiful, how fragile we all are. It reminds us that even loss, in its cruelest form, is a passenger in life’s story, pushing us to live more fully. The beauty and quality of these stories are undeniable, and I know this won’t be my last time revisiting them. Some books you read once and move on; others, like this one, stay with you, humming their truths in the quiet moments of your life. It comes highly recommended.
For my next book, I intend to spring up Tomorrow Died Yesterday by Chimeka Garricks. Do I need to explain why?
List of books I currently have under consideration for the rest of 2025
- The Vegetarian
- Gaslight
- Purple Hibiscus
- Dream Count
- Nearly All The Men in Lagos Are Mad
- Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow
- Half of a Yellow Sun (reading again)
- Children of Blood and Bone (reading again)
- Be(com)ing Nigerian (reading again)
- The Thing Around Your Neck (reading again)
