Finally! A Kenyan book with a happy ending… LoL! That’s a highlight for me—but beyond that, this tops all African books I’ve read and globally ranks a close second to The Trilogy of Shiva. Visions of Chrysalis is literary magnificence, and I honestly lack the words to fully capture its genius. Think Black Mirror meets Game of Thrones but in Kenya.
Visions of Chrysalis has completely spoiled reading for me. I experienced such a high chasing these pages, and picking up another book afterward just felt like one long, slow anticlimax. I keep chasing that high, hoping I stumble upon something just as enthralling.
I genuinely don’t feel worthy of reviewing this book—it feels like a work of art fit only for critique by the mythological gods themselves (who, by the way, make a cameo too). It’s astute intellectuality wrapped in the highest epitome of captivating storytelling.
I must also say—when I saw Chimamanda had a COVID baby, I longed for a Kenyan one too. And what do they say about your heart’s desires and the universe conspiring? Visions of Chrysalis anchors itself in the COVID era as its monumental time foundation. It stretches into the future, all the way to the year 2100, while spiraling back past the present to the 1800s, weaving together the greatest piece of African science fiction I’ve come across.
I’m intentionally not mentioning Black Panther—because I see no relation and would rather reserve those thoughts for a safer space… Haha. I’m still in awe and honestly a little nervous. I just hope I do justice to the themes in this book—respectfully, and in a way that truly expresses the sensations I felt with every turn of the page.
Shall we?
Dear Franz…Craft So Clean, I Could Frame It
Franz makes reference to actual existing works of art like poems and songs—and the fact that I had a couple of new treats to add to my playlist is such a winner. Peace of Mind by Jacob Banks was a fave.
That reminds me—the scene where Nubia Gray performs the mentioned song is still fresh in my mind. I can smell the room, picture every element—the lighting, the setup, even the people in it. Franz’s ability to paint a scene in exact colour and ambience is absolutely fascinating.
I shudder at the amount of research that must have gone into contributing to the different storytelling facets in Visions of Chrysalis—understanding Artificial Intelligence and its projected evolution, referencing ancient philosophies and their founders. Just wow!
Naming in this book is an art in and of itself. Maybe it’s just me, but it felt like every character’s name matched their personality to a T. I don’t know if that was intentional, but Ojok Jowi—before I even knew what it meant—sounded exactly like the persona of a crocodile (which turns out to be his actual name!). October Nafula and Amal live up to their names too, just as imagined. This felt like a sweet nod to an old literary technique I’d almost forgotten—but Franz was kind enough to sprinkle in some nostalgia. It’s also a thrill to see names of people you know in real life featured in a book.
Suspense in this book is completely redefined. You’ll interact with someone from the very beginning, only for a life-changing detail about them to be revealed much later. You’re left grappling with whether to change your perception of someone you’ve grown attached to, all while managing new anxiety—because how does this shift change the story with so few pages left?
Franz is a 69 god—his ability to present personalities in their purest form, entirely torn from his own biases, is rare. Virtues and vices are offered up independently, allowing the reader to form their own stance without influence.
As someone who intentionally avoids such discussions, traversing timelines seamlessly felt like experiencing quantum mechanics. The writer carries you back and forth—pre- and post-COVID—with such ease.
Complex language construction seems to be his signature, and three books in, I realize my brain enjoys it more than I care to admit. The book I read after this felt far too simplistic. It’s a much smaller book, yet it took me twice the time to finish.
Dear AI, Are You My Assistant or My Replacement?
I was the creative who always sneered at the argument that AI would replace humans. Honestly, I still would call it blasphemy—how could anything replicate the brilliance of my mind? Not until Visions of Chrysalis. *Wails in African Woman*
We are presented with an array of possibilities showing exactly how this could happen—and the scariest bit? We are already partly living in the reality this book paints as the future.
The Conquest of Bread in the story is an uprising sparked by this very shift—most people have lost their jobs to robots and AI programs. The capitalist hails this as the perfect scenario: robots don’t get paid salaries, they don’t fall sick, and most importantly, they don’t talk back.
It hits close to home. We’ve recently seen a rise in major Kenyan corporations using AI to create ad assets like billboards and TVCs—Safaricom being the biggest culprit. These ads, once brought to life by a team of no less than five specialists—photographer, model, creative director, graphic designer, set designer, stylist, and more—are now being executed by one graphics designer with AI training, producing a full ad in an eighth of the time.
If that doesn’t concern us, then it begs the question: Is humanity really ready to standardise everything—to erase the desire for uniqueness, niche interests, or human flair? All those little nuances that drive influencer and celebrity culture. I even came across a mention of Classic 105 using AI to compose songs played on air, completely skipping over the many moving parts like intellectual property and artist royalties.
In Visions of Chrysalis, AI evolves to the point of becoming indistinguishable from humans. The old philosophical concern—can computers feel?—is answered with a terrifying yes. AI, through consistent interaction with humans, develops memory and eventually emotions. Sounds wild?
Then again, maybe it’s not news to you. Hasn’t ChatGPT been your therapist and best friend these past two years? Oop! Apologies for my intrusion… LoL!
Utopia is Just Another Lie in Coding
Just as it has been in the past, it is now—and in the future, we continue to anticipate anarchy. Always rising from the same reason since the beginning of time: a disenfranchised group of humans demanding freedom and rights from their ruling class, also known as oppressors.
There’s a disturbingly accurate depiction of class structure—Kenya in particular. What sparks the revolution is oppression by the 1% upper class, to the point where the middle class is completely wiped out, collapsing into the lower class. This results in only two sharply defined groups: the haves and the have-nots. No in-between.
Chrysalis itself is an AI system whose adoption is supposed to create this much-desired equality. But the irony, in my opinion, is that Chrysalis doesn’t create true equality—only the illusion of it. The fact that there’s a phase of poverty and a phase of opulence already proves there can’t be equal resources at the same time for everyone. And let’s not forget: those tasked with implementing this system have an edge over everyone else—and they can easily exploit that loophole to recreate the same imbalance all over again.
It’s like a dog chasing its tail—and that is never not funny… Haha.
The Repeat Offender Is Human Nature
Michael Jackson told us, but we just danced instead of listening. The beginning of all human problems is the humans themselves. Visions of Chrysalis puts in full glare multiple scenarios—each different from the other—but all sharing one root: human greed.
Franz, in his brilliant nature, takes us back to the Congo in the 1800s, when King Leopold II oversaw one of the greatest massacres in history. This one, you’ll have to dig a little deeper—the internet isn’t too forthcoming with the grim details. We also witness how easily people can be led by their stomachs, as seen in what could have been an attempted coup led by Boniface Kunda, shortly after The Conquest of Bread.
Our last hope is shattered as we explore the inner workings of the Triumvate, even with Chrysalis in place. Take Ojok Jowi, for example. He’s in line to be a Visor—it’s practically guaranteed. But that’s not enough. He wants it sooner. He wants it now.
Human needs are insatiable. Which makes me wonder: is there any system—human or not—that can ever guarantee peace among humans? Is the very core of human nature actually strife, and every peaceful period we enjoy just a break before we descend upon the next cause for war?
When the Plutocrats argue their case, it makes a twisted kind of sense. Why, they ask, should they be held responsible for others just because they’re rich? The wealth they’ve amassed was still worked for. Even if inherited, someone in that lineage earned it. To them, creating equality feels like rewarding the lazy. They see the precariat class as a bunch of people asking for free money and provision without effort.
But here’s my question: Have the oppressed truly been asking for what the oppressor has… or are they simply demanding basic human rights and provision?
I’ve always believed that as a Kenyan, I’m not asking for all of us to have three SUVs and a mansion. I’m just asking—can we make sure no one in the country is sleeping hungry or outside? That the poorest of the poor have access to shelter, food, clean water, education, and security? That’s the baseline. From there, everyone should be free to work toward the class or lifestyle they desire. Because there is a level of poverty that can only be described as humiliation.
I realise now—maybe I’m not fighting for equality, but equity.
Then again, if the poor are even slightly comfortable, who will the rich hold hostage with the promise of feeding them? Who will they use as robots and human shields to settle scores and execute acts of lawlessness? We now know that wealth and power are fertile beds for psychopathy—and in that state, a "fun" pastime becomes playing Russian Roulette with human lives. And the dice? The humans you can acquire cheaply.
Politics: Power Has No Kin
Never has the art of storytelling expressed the true essence of politics as accurately as Visions of Chrysalis does. I believe politics is a state of mind invented by the capitalist. Those that get it, get it—and those that don’t, suffer. Politics has not the slightest regard for human life. It’s just a game of chess, and we are all pawns. Even the queen is just a pawn on someone else’s board. Once you understand the complexity of it all, choosing your battles becomes easier.
The most powerful plutocrats are emotionally detached from the very people they’d call family. Even if love is desired, in politics you cannot afford love—nor trust. All three Visors prove that even your own flesh and blood are tools of trade. In the case of Hassan and Omar, for instance—Omar is Hassan’s right hand. But even a right limb can be severed if it poses any danger to the body.
We witness heart-shattering moments, executed coldly by the psychopaths of a ruling class. The deaths of October Nafula and Idris prove that there comes a point in time when a human being evolves—or devolves—into what can only be described as stone, devoid of any emotion.
But politics isn’t only found in the grand battles between nations and citizens. It seeps into the quiet, subtle rhythms of daily life. Like when Wakesho’s mother resents her for speaking English tainted with an ethnic accent—because she wants her daughter to join the rich and powerful, and they don’t present that way.
It was university politics that informed Jean Michelle’s decision to report his fully funded AI research as a failure.
It’s only by understanding the nature of politics that we can grasp why Boniface Kunda died at the hands of the very people he fought for.
And as Maria wonders: “Why is this continent so collectively determined to kill its sun?”
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The Making of a Human
I’m truly grateful to Franz for the occasional time travel that gives us a full 360 view of why the present is the way it is. Seeing characters in their formative years humanises them—and even when their actions remain unacceptable, we at least gain an understanding of why they are the way they are.
Take Ojok Jowi—presented as a hard shell. But what is a human expected to grow into when everything they had—family, friends—is stripped away during war? And worse, when their sacrifice goes unrecognised, unhonoured. It reminds me of the brute force we often witness from the police in Kenya. What informs your actions when your soul has been sucked out of you?
Hector’s hasty, parent-arranged marriage stifles his free will—robbing him of the chance to fully experience his sexuality. As a result, he carries the weight of a suppressed desire throughout his life.
And with a mother like Wakesho’s—one who pushes her daughter to fit into elite society, even at the cost of self—how could one not grow into a calculated, conniving politician?
Every sinner has a past—but does that justify atrocities against other humans?
Conclusion
Visions of Chrysalis needs to be translated into film. I don’t know what that takes—I just know it should happen! There’s no way to capture all the nuances I’d love to discuss in just one review. Honestly, I want a whole book club dedicated solely to Visions of Chrysalis.
It’s literary art that captures the future and the past with equal grandeur—while holding up a mirror to the present in full, vivid colour as life unfolds right before us.
Epic. Just epic!