Reading Like a Writer: What Would the Aliens Think? by Ekpenyong Kosisochukowu Collins
Our Lit!Commons community is full of talented writers, and we’re excited to hand over the reins of Allison Wyss’s Reading Like a Writer column to subscriber Patty Bohart. In her analysis of "What Would the Aliens Think?," Patty explores the powerful interplay of conditional verbs, supernatural themes, and emotional tension.
“What Would the Aliens Think?” by Ekpenyong Kosisochukowu Collins is a heartbreaking dive inside the mind of a young, gay, African male describing a romantic interlude within a violently homophobic society. The story’s point of view alternates between first-person narrative and second-person pseudo-epistolary form, as he addresses his lover with directness and familiarity that feels natural.
‘The jean jacket I would wear would still any angst I might have about my weight,’ is an especially endearing glimpse into the narrator’s state of mind. The alternating point of view provides intimacy, and readers seem to be given the inside seat. We were all young once, the narrator skillfully seems to imply. We all fussed about our appearance prior to an important date, he seems to be saying, luring us in with a kind of literary folksiness.
This is a tragedy that begins simply enough. The streets the pair would navigate are discussed, the bus stops, the taxis. The narrator continues to agonize over his appearance: ‘I’d wonder, perhaps, if you’re shy or disappointed at my features—my sunken cheeks, the nose God gave me, the one he propped down on my face in defiance, as if to say, a nose is a nose, whether big or small,’ as they find their way to the pre-arranged hotel. Again, the portrayal of our protagonist as a flawed hero builds on the charm.
At this point, the narrator mentions the aliens for the first time: ‘If the aliens had a satellite and were able to communicate with us, they’d have sent me emails or signals.’” Signals of what? And why are we suddenly pivoting from reality to aliens? The sudden insertion of the supernatural intrigues me.
My anxiety peaks when the narrator says, ‘Sense evaded me as I brushed it off… but there was something—an alert in the back of my mind.’” I believe this dialogue is meant to warn us of impending danger, to shift the mood, to leave us feeling unbalanced. It’s a sharp change that gets my attention, which I believe was the objective.
By this point, I feel an intense allegiance to the protagonist, protective and fearful for his fate. Rightly so: the couple barely enters the hotel before their passion is interrupted by a ‘rapped knocking on the door.’”
A single sentence, written as a thirteen-word paragraph, is the crux of the story: ‘I would look at you then and recognize what this is: a Kito.’ In my opinion, this sentence has been set apart structurally because it deserves outsized attention. A sentence that punches above its weight, I felt the need to linger over it, to allow its meaning to marinate and be slowly digested.
‘Kito’ is a Nigerian slang term for homophobic violence used to intimidate men. Prior to reading this story, this word was entirely unknown to me (an advantage of my privilege). But now that I have consumed it, I can’t stop thinking about it. The Kito, a type of catfish operation, is about to implode.
As we brace ourselves for the inevitable, we are thankfully saved by the final sentence of the essay: ‘This is why, when you say, Can we meet? My eyes linger on your texts. The aliens, obviously allies, whisper to me. And then I type: No, sorry. Maybe some other time.’”
Whew.
Before this final sentence, the role of the aliens was unclear. What’s the point of pivoting from reality to the supernatural? In an interview, the author states that aliens might represent beings above us, a type of spirit watching from beyond. While that may have been the author’s full intention, I believe their significance goes deeper. By combining subjunctive modal verbs (i.e. might, may, would), as well as the abstract idea of aliens, the author creates a distance, a barrier, a separation between reality and events happening inside the narrator’s mind. The aliens may not necessarily represent only the supernatural; their presence may introduce another dimension entirely.
What if the unusual combination of aliens and hypothetical verb forms is a brilliant coupling designed to create a portal into our internal arbitrariness—our secret subconscious musings, vague internal naggings, the deep-seated longings, the self-reproach we all repress? Subjunctive verb forms signify the conditional, the unreal, and the risks we can still avoid. All of this has mercifully been crafted as a “what if,” an off-ramp because, in the end, the narrator was simply imagining how this meet-up would play out.
The essay concludes with the narrator’s unfulfilled desire. He is safe, but at what price? The implication is clear: in some communities, physical safety and sexual gratification are often mutually exclusive.