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Marginalizing Colonialism offers a social, political, and spatial history of Bolgatanga, a northern Ghanaian town whose colonial-era urban development has been largely overlooked in African historiography. Covering the late nineteenth century through the 1940s, the book traces how this settlement—long characterized as a remote hinterland of the British Empire—emerged as a commercial and political center in the region. Rather than depicting urbanization as an imperial project, it reveals how African actors actively shaped Bolgatanga’s growth and repeatedly marginalized, redirected, and evaded colonial authority.

The narrative follows Bolgatanga’s transformation from a dispersed settlement organized around kinship, ritual geographies, and earth shrines into a dynamic urban hub integrated into regional trade networks. Central to this shift were new land tenure systems, commercial expansion, and changing spatial practices. By the 1930s and 1940s, trade in kola, groundnuts, livestock, and other goods surged, stimulated by new roads and increased mobility. Population growth converted farmland into leased plots, permanent buildings replaced older compounds, and areas around the market became focal points of economic and social life.

These changes were driven not by the colonial state but rather by local negotiations and strategic adaptations. Chiefs, earth priests, merchants, and migrant traders mediated and reshaped colonial policies, while missionaries and settlers concluded land agreements beyond official oversight. Roads and marketplaces, planned through negotiations between colonial officials and local chiefs and built largely through African labor, became central infrastructures of local economic life. Even as colonial administrators sought to codify land tenure and regulate commerce, their influence remained largely nominal—a background presence in a story propelled by African initiative.

Drawing on archival documents, oral histories, and unpublished manuscripts by local intellectuals, Marginalizing Colonialism provides the first comprehensive urban history of Bolgatanga. It challenges dominant narratives in African colonial and urban historiography by exposing the silences of the colonial archive and highlighting the significance of medium-sized towns as arenas of negotiation and creativity. Ultimately, the book argues that Bolgatanga’s urbanization was a locally driven process that redefined power, space, and governance—leaving a legacy that continues to shape the city’s identity and regional role today.

From the seventeenth century into the nineteenth, thousands of Madagascar’s people were brought to American ports as slaves. In Memories of Madagascar and Slavery in the Black Atlantic, Wendy Wilson-Fall shows that the descendants of these Malagasy slaves in the United States maintained an ethnic identity in ways that those from the areas more commonly feeding the Atlantic slave trade did not. Generations later, hundreds, if not thousands, of African Americans maintain strong identities as Malagasy descendants, yet the histories of Malagasy slaves, sailors, and their descendants have been little explored.

Wilson-Fall examines how and why the stories that underlie this identity have been handed down through families—and what this says about broader issues of ethnicity and meaning-making for those whose family origins, if documented at all, have been willfully obscured by history.

By analyzing contemporary oral histories as well as historical records and examining the conflicts between the two, Wilson-Fall carefully probes the tensions between the official and the personal, the written and the lived. She suggests that historically, the black community has been a melting pot to which generations of immigrants—enslaved and free—have been socially assigned, often in spite of their wish to retain far more complex identities. Innovative in its methodology and poetic in its articulation, this book bridges history and ethnography to take studies of diaspora, ethnicity, and identity into new territory.

Metaphor and the Slave Trade provides compelling evidence of the hidden but unmistakable traces of the transatlantic slave trade that persist in West African discourse. Through an examination of metaphors that describe the trauma, loss, and suffering associated with the commerce in human lives, this book shows how the horrors of slavery are communicated from generation to generation.

Laura T. Murphy’s insightful new readings of canonical West African fiction, autobiography, drama, and poetry explore the relationship between memory and metaphor and emphasize how repressed or otherwise marginalized memories can be transmitted through images, tropes, rumors, and fears. By analyzing the unique codes through which West Africans have represented the slave trade, this work foregrounds African literary contributions to Black Atlantic discourse and draws attention to the archive that metaphor unlocks for scholars of all disciplines and fields of study.

Short-listed for the Fage & Oliver Prize for outstanding scholarly work published on Africa.

Finalist, African Studies Association Book Prize.

Finalist, ASA Bethwell A. Ogot Prize for best book in east African studies.

If modernism initially came to Africa through colonial contact, what does Ethiopia’s inimitable historical condition—its independence save for five years under Italian occupation—mean for its own modernist tradition? In Modernist Art in Ethiopia—the first book-length study of the topic—Elizabeth W. Giorgis recognizes that her home country’s supposed singularity, particularly as it pertains to its history from 1900 to the present, cannot be conceived outside the broader colonial legacy. She uses the evolution of modernist art in Ethiopia to open up the intellectual, cultural, and political histories of it in a pan-African context.

Giorgis explores the varied precedents of the country’s political and intellectual history to understand the ways in which the import and range of visual narratives were mediated across different moments, and to reveal the conditions that account for the extraordinary dynamism of the visual arts in Ethiopia. In locating its arguments at the intersection of visual culture and literary and performance studies, Modernist Art in Ethiopia details how innovations in visual art intersected with shifts in philosophical and ideological narratives of modernity. The result is profoundly innovative work—a bold intellectual, cultural, and political history of Ethiopia, with art as its centerpiece.

In Morafe, Khumisho Moguerane has written a luminous exploration of two generations of the prominent Molema family. They were “border people” who straddled what would become present-day South Africa and Botswana. The book begins in the 1880s at the frontier of the new British territories of Bechuanaland (North West and Northern Cape provinces) and the Bechuanaland Protectorate (Botswana), where the political boundary between these two territories was negligible and where skin color did not yet necessarily connect with a particular social or political status or affect economic opportunity.

Morafe ends in the 1950s, when the political boundary mattered profoundly, dividing two very different colonial dispensations of racial ordering and classification, and two separate traditions of nationalist politics. With this landmark publication, Moguerane reveals that “the nation” is less “out there,” in public institutions and political struggles, and more “in here,” in the everyday drama of personal and ordinary lives.

A groundbreaking study of Yoruba-language print culture in colonial Lagos

Much Matter in a Penny Paper offers the first in-depth exploration of the emergence of an African-language print culture in early twentieth-century Lagos, Nigeria. Focusing on the 1910s and 1920s—a period of rapid experimentation and innovation—Karin Barber examines the rise of Yoruba-language newspapers and the vibrant civic sphere they helped create.

The 1910s was notable for an upsurge of local Yoruba-language history books, and during the 1920s entrepreneurial editors and writers launched five Yoruba-language weeklies in quick succession. These publications drew in readers beyond the educated elite, expanding public discourse and experimenting with new genres of writing. From moralizing pamphlets and dramatic sketches to serialized narratives voiced by women, Yoruba print producers reimagined oral and written traditions, blending popular songs, anecdotes, and poetic forms into a dynamic new medium.

This book is about not only what was printed but also how and why. It investigates the material practices of print production, the motivations of its creators, and the expectations of its audiences. Drawing on editorials, reader correspondence, and other paratextual commentary, it reveals how Yoruba writers and readers understood the role of print in capturing the present, preserving the past, projecting the wisdom of the day forward for the benefit of future generations, and generating deep Yoruba texts rich in poetic energy.

Through detailed portraits of key figures—editors, pamphleteers, and a mysterious oral historian—Barber traces the interconnections between publications and genres, showing how they formed an active bilingual sphere of communication. The interplay between Yoruba- and English-language media, as well as the creative exploitation of both languages, emerges as a defining feature of this period’s print culture. By treating the Yoruba print archive as a “transcript of emergence,” this study offers new insights into how cultural innovations take shape. It is essential reading for scholars of African history, media studies, sociolinguistics, and print culture.