Pilgrim: A fantastical literary journey
Alake Pilgrim, a Trinidadian writer, burst onto the literary scene in 2022 when her children’s book, Zo and the Forest of Secrets, was published by the British Book Awards Children’s Book Publisher of the Year, Knights Of Media, to great acclaim.
The first of two in a series (book two will be out in 2024), Zo was chosen for the World Book Day Book Club 2022 and shortlisted for the 2022 Caribbean Bocas Lit Fest Children’s Book Prize. The audiobook is narrated by Janique Charles, the T&T actress and singer who plays Nala in The Lion King London.
Zo and the Forest of Secret, says Pilgrim, is “a fantasy adventure with futuristic twists, set on the northeast coast of Trinidad. In it, two children, Zo Joseph and Adri Khan, find themselves on the run from strange creatures and dangerous adults who are after them and their gifts.”
Pilgrim’s writing journey feels as fantastical as her awardwinning book. “My child was born with a life-threatening illness that doctors said could be only resolved by an eventual transplant. Instead, he was miraculously healed, and the Bible stories I’d read as a child suddenly became very personal and real. I was inspired to write a fictional fantasy adventure full of fear, beauty, and wonder.” Pilgrim also feels “blessed to win prizes over the years and receive support from mentors, workshops, and festivals.”
Excerpt: Zo and the Forest of Secret Chapter Sixteen:
SWING I woke up with a throbbing pain at the back of my neck, surrounded by a horrible smell. “No…” I groaned, wondering why my body felt so bent out of shape. I opened my eyes to find myself staring at my chest and stomach. My legs were upside down, falling over my face. I was lying on my upper back with my neck cricked forward, my body forming an upside-down, lopsided ‘U’. As I tried to right myself, the smell hit me again like a slap in the face. I broke out in a cold sweat. I would know that smell anywhere. It was the rank, mouldy odour of the Flesh-skinner.
I began to twist and turn as quietly as I could, trying to get into an upright position. Instead, I found myself pressed against some sort of woven mesh. A wave of vertigo hit me. I wasn’t on solid ground. I was swinging gently from side to side, hanging in a net. As I tried to right myself, the swaying grew more intense. I breathed heavily, on the verge of throwing up, trapped like a fish on a line. “Careful.” A wave of relief hit me. It was Adri’s voice, speaking barely above a whisper. “Try bending your right leg more, then the left. Okay, reach your hands up behind you and grab hold of the net. Now, try pulling yourself up.” I followed his instructions and ended up half-crouched, halfseated, but finally, thankfully, upright. My hands were gripping a hanging net of dried and woven vine, like the nests that cornbirds hung from trees. The gap in the weave was narrower than my arm, but wide enough for me to see through. There, to my left, was Adri, trapped in a net of his own. We were dangling between the rocky walls of what seemed like a deep well. “Adri, the beast, it’s…” I was on the verge of tears.
The smell was all around me, choking me. “Shhh,” he whispered, pointing downwards. I looked down slowly. Beneath us was a pit full of darkness and foul smells. At its base, I could see the Flesh-skinner, lit by a few standing torches, surrounded by a pile of cracked bones. Its white skin was slick with phosphorescent slime, its huge head and jaws resting on its front feet. Its misshapen body expanded and contracted with each breath. It was sound asleep. I fought the urge to vomit. My head reeled as the cave spun around me. “Zo,” I could barely hear Adri’s whispers, but they were as calming as the sound of the surf in Samaan Bay, the place I’d refused to call home. What I wouldn’t give to be back there now. “You trust me?” Adri asked. The room righted itself slowly. I drew a hand across my face. It came back streaked with tears and dirt. Sitting in his gently swaying net, Adri pulled a small sharp knife out of his shoe. “From the kitchen,” he smiled.
End of Excerpt.
Alake Pilgrim has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of East Anglia in the UK, support for which she credits Booker Prize Foundation Scholarship.
IRA MATHUR is a Guardian columnist and the winner of the non-fiction OCM Bocas Prize for Literature 2023