By Arissa Ausrin
In Agbaje-Williams’ astute and often humorous debut novel, The Three of Us, the complex relationship between a well-off British Nigerian couple and the wife’s closest friend unravels over a single day. The story is told through three perspectives – first the wife, then the husband, and finally, the friend Temi.
Agbaje-Williams’ writing style is fluid and conversational, creating an almost auditory effect that transcends the physical form of the written word on the page. Honestly, the sparse use of quotation marks made it challenging to distinguish dialogue from narration in the first few pages, requiring more effort to track the flow of conversation. The disjointed structure and unconventional formatting create a sense of disorientation that may frustrate some readers.
The narrative begins as Temi arrives at the couple’s home in the middle of the day, armed with wine, snacks, and cigarettes. The two women, who are lifelong best friends, spend the afternoon gossiping about Temi’s recent dating life and contemplating that the wife and her husband have started trying to have a baby – something Temi sees as a betrayal. It’s clear the husband and Temi have a longstanding resentment.
As Temi regales her friend with her trademark anecdotes about disastrous dates, the wife directly addresses the reader in a winding, revelatory confession. We learn that both women were raised by strict Nigerian parents who demanded total compliance and academic excellence, their entire lives meticulously planned out in detailed outcome-projecting spreadsheets. However, Temi eventually rebelled against these rigid constraints, urging her best friend to embrace her “By Myself, For Myself” philosophy, and break free from their parents’ expectations.
The wife is grateful for the peace and tranquility in her marriage to her husband.
“In my husband, I found someone for whom the bare minimum was more than enough, someone who didn’t expect anything of me that I wasn’t willing to give.”
The wife repeatedly reminds the reader that she deeply values this sense of domestic calm. Unfortunately, Temi doesn’t share the wife’s deep appreciation for this tranquility. As someone who grew up with strict post-university plans, the wife’s desire for a peaceful marriage after years of micro-management is understandable and should not be dismissed or looked down upon.
In the novel’s second part, the narrative shifts to the perspective of the husband. It comes as little surprise that he takes issue with Temi’s constant presence in his home and the influence she wields over his wife. “I expected to live with one woman when I got married,” he laments. “Apparently I live with two.”
His entire monologue is a series of irritations compressed under immense pressure and heat, transforming into diamonds of unwavering hatred.
There is an equal mix of horror and hilarity in witnessing the husband struggle to contain his rage against this woman who drinks his liquor, interrupts his evenings, and dismisses him as “the human equivalent of a Bic pen.” He knows he shouldn’t let Temi get the better of him, but he is powerless to resist. Agbaje-Williams expertly traces the husband’s rage as it spirals into a great vortex of exasperation.
Towards the end of the novel, the parallels to the classic tale of doomed lovers become clear. While Temi may not be as outright villainous as the most infamous literary schemers, she is certainly just as cunning in her efforts to undermine her friend’s marriage. However, The Three of Us is no true tragedy. Agbaje-Williams’ sharp wit prevents the work from veering into such heavy territory. Each of the characters bears some responsibility for the cringe-worthy situation they find themselves in.
The wife herself acknowledges this, admitting: “It is strange, and every so often uncomfortable when the insults become more pointed and personal. But it’s also entertaining. I like to say almost nothing, see where it goes.”
This is a risky gambit on her part, but an entertaining one for the reader. The final section, narrated by Temi and her self-professed “unfiltered honesty,” proves far more destructive than the wife could have imagined, yet also more deliciously wicked than the reader might have anticipated.
As Agbaje-Williams uncorks the bottle on this tangled trio, the result is an intoxicating descent into chaos. Temi’s narration is a deliciously wicked master class in unfiltered honesty that leaves no relationship unscathed. The sheer cringe-worthiness of it all makes this novel an irresistible guilty pleasure, like taking an illicit sip from a vintage bottle you know will leave you buzzed and unsettled.
By the time the curtain falls on The Three of Us, you’ll be left wondering if these characters can ever coexist without destroying each other – or if that’s the whole point. Agbaje-Williams masterfully uncorks a tangle of tensions that linger long after the last page.
“Arissa, a final-year Creative Industries student hailing from Malaysia, is an avid consumer of diverse media. Her passion for creativity extends across various forms of artistic expression. Follow her journey on Instagram @a2rissa.”
