Uchechukwu
Peter Umezurike [photo credit: Layne McKenna] is an Assistant Professor in
the Department of English and the 2025-2026 Wayne O. McCready Emerging Fellow
at the Calgary Institute for the Humanities, University of Calgary, Canada and
the winner of the 2025 African Literature Association’s Best Book Award
(Creative Writing). He is the author of literary works, such as there’s
more (2023), Double Wahala, Double Trouble (2021), Wish Maker (2021/2025), and a co-editor of Please Don’t Interrupt (2025)
and Wreaths for a Wayfarer (2020), and the academic monograph, Masculinity in Nigerian Fiction: Receptivity and Gender, Edinburgh University Press
(2025). His latest poetry book, We Survived Until We Could Live, is out
on April 15, 2026 from the University of Calgary Press.1
- How did your first book change your life? How does your most recent work
compare to your previous? How does it feel different?
Uche:
My first book, Dark through the
Delta, was inspired by oil exploitation in the Niger Delta and the
environmental devastation that followed. Writing that book convinced me of
literature’s power to spotlight various forms of plunder of both human and
nonhuman worlds. My most recent book, We Survived Until We Could Live,
is different, in tone and theme. It’s less ecological and much more intimate
and explores postwar memory, historical and family traumas, domestic violence,
grief, healing, and love. In some way, both books are still very much about
devastation. While Dark through the Delta examines the devastation
caused by an oil behemoth and its effects on both human and nonhuman life, We
Survived Until We Could Live reveals the devastation of war and its toll on
human lives and relationships. I think this book is my most ambitious and
certainly my most vulnerable. I couldn’t have written it without the generous
support of the entire team at the University of Calgary Press.
2
- How did you come to poetry first, as opposed to, say, fiction or non-fiction?
Uche:
I came to poetry by accident, in my
late uncle’s house – a biochemist, but an avid reader of literature. He had a
storage full of books, including British and Roman poets and playwrights. One
day, I went to the storage to get something and stumbled upon a small book, Shakespeare’s
Sonnets. I opened it almost at random, and the rhyme scheme, its
imagery, and its lyric intensity captivated me. It’s funny, because before
that, I’d never been particularly interested in literature at high school. That
Shakespearean moment, or rather, encounter, is what really started me writing
poetry.
3
- How long does it take to start any particular writing project? Does your
writing initially come quickly, or is it a slow process? Do first drafts appear
looking close to their final shape, or does your work come out of copious
notes?
Uche: It usually takes me a while because I
always find it hard to start any project. But once I manage to begin, I write
almost compulsively until the project is done. Usually, the process can drag on
for weeks or even months, especially since I sometimes procrastinate. There are
moments when the writing comes quickly and with vigour, and then there are
other times when it feels slow and quite frustrating. I write many clunky drafts
– so many that I often reach a point where I want to abandon the whole thing
and start something entirely new. But eventually, somehow, the draft begins to
look appealing. That’s when the rhapsody takes over.
4
- Where does a poem or work of fiction usually begin for you? Are you an author
of short pieces that end up combining into a larger project, or are you working
on a "book" from the very beginning?
Uche: There isn’t a single way a poem or a
piece of fiction begins for me. Sometimes an idea comes from a conversation,
something in the news, or from reading someone else’s poetry or fiction. Other
times it starts much more quietly, maybe an image, a passing thought, a bird in
the sky, or a subject I’m trying to understand. There are also times when I’m
trying to imagine someone else’s reality or identify with their struggle, so I
consider writing a poem or a story about that. And when I’m working toward a
book, I usually carry a loose narrative in my mind. Having that frame helps me craft
individual poems that echo one another.
5
- Are public readings part of or counter to your creative process? Are you the
sort of writer who enjoys doing readings?
Uche:
I enjoy doing readings every now and
then, since they foster literary community and bring the author closer to their
readers, but I don’t love travelling too far from my family.
6
- Do you have any theoretical concerns behind your writing? What kinds of
questions are you trying to answer with your work? What do you even think the
current questions are?
Uche:
For me, the questions always come back
to how we live with the constant presence of political, economic, social, and
environmental violence, and what it means to live with others in a world shaped
by colonial modernity and its afterlives, a world continually damaged by
rapacious capitalism and its impact on the planet.
7
– What do you see the current role of the writer being in larger culture? Do
they even have one? What do you think the role of the writer should be?
Uche:
I can only speak for myself, not for
other writers. My last poetry book, there’s more, was about migrant
struggles and precarity, and what it meant to be an African immigrant in the
West. My latest book reveals the damage war inflicts on families and why we
need to consider the suffering of those who survive it. So, I think it’s important
to keep illuminating the human suffering that exists among us. Also, I try to
leave space for hope: for what might still be possible, even amid brutality and
terror.
8
- Do you find the process of working with an outside editor difficult or
essential (or both)?
Uche:
Editors are a gift to any writer, and
I’ve been fortunate not to have had to work with a difficult editor. Over the
years, I’ve worked with Helen Hajnoczky, Juleus Ghunta, Peter Norman, Kara Toews, Richard Harrison, Gary Barwin, and Kimmy Beach on various projects, and
they’ve all been incredibly generous and supportive.
9
- What is the best piece of advice you've heard (not necessarily given to you
directly)?
Uche: Find delight in the ordinary: it has a
way of surprising you with extraordinary moments. I can’t even remember who
first told me that, but it’s stayed with me. And I like this advice from James
Baldwin about saying, Yes to life even amid all the world’s
terribleness.
10
- How easy has it been for you to move between genres (poetry to fiction to
children's fiction to critical prose)? What do you see as the appeal?
Uche: It’s challenging, but it’s a good kind
of challenge. There are times when I want to write prose and all that comes to
me is a poem, and I must wrestle with either genre. And then other times, all I
want to do is simply work on a poem, and prose tugs at me.
11
- What kind of writing routine do you tend to keep, or do you even have one?
How does a typical day (for you) begin?
Uche:
It would be nice to have a set period
each day dedicated to writing. Anyhow, I try to write in the morning and late
at night, only if I still have any energy left after teaching, supervision,
committee work, parenting, and the everyday demands of school runs.
12
- When your writing gets stalled, where do you turn or return for (for lack of
a better word) inspiration?
Uche: I like taking long walks in my
neighbourhood, going up Nose Hill, or just listening to nature music.
13
- What fragrance reminds you of home?
Uche: The smell of ripe mangoes. The aroma of
freshly baked meat pies.
14
- David W. McFadden once said that books come from books, but are there any
other forms that influence your work, whether nature, music, science or visual
art?
Uche: That’s mostly true for me. I find
inspiration from nature, music, books, science, or visual art – and sometimes
on the train.
15
- What other writers or writings are important for your work, or simply your
life outside of your work?
Uche:
There are so many writers and works
that have shaped–and continue to shape–my creative writing. Specifically, I
want to highlight some of the thinkers who have enriched my approach to
literary and cultural scholarship: Chinua Achebe, bell hooks, Toni Morrison,
Emmanuel Levinas, Sara Ahmed, Kevin Quashie, Lee Maracle, Chielozona Eze,
Rinaldo Walcott, Judith Butler, Christina Sharpe, Richard Wagamese, Jennifer C. Nash, and Max Wyman.
16
- What would you like to do that you haven't yet done?
Uche: I would like to skydive or bungee jump,
but I’m not sure I am brave enough.
17
- If you could pick any other occupation to attempt, what would it be? Or,
alternately, what do you think you would have ended up doing had you not been a
writer?
Uche: In another universe, I could have been
a chef. Or a soccer player.
18
- What made you write, as opposed to doing something else?
Uche: In the 1990s, many Nigerian writers
used their work to oppose military regimes. When I began writing poetry and
short stories playfully during my undergraduate years, I, too, wanted to speak
out against the government. Later, in the 2000s, after I had long graduated, I
took my writing more seriously to draw attention to the dangers of tyranny and
the struggles of citizens.
19
- What was the last great book you read? What was the last great film?
Uche:
Christina Sharpe’s Ordinary Notes
is an incredible mosaic of Black life, capturing both its struggles and its
joys. Ryan Coogler’s Sinners is a great film! I generally enjoy horror
films, but this one stands out. Coogler reimagines the genre in a richly witty
manner to confront historical trauma in the U.S. What I appreciate even more,
though, is how it affirms Black joy, intimacy, music, and community, even in
the face of pervasive death.
20
- What are you currently working on?
Uche:
Right now, I just want to spend some
time with the books I’ve collected over the last three summers and not take on
any major projects. My goal is to get through at least half of them.
12 or 20 (second series) questions;
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