By Pius Adesanmi
America invaded my formative years in Nigeria through culture, mainly books and music. Indian (Amitabh Bachchan!) and Chinese (Bruce Lee!) films relegated American (John Wayne) films to a distant background. In High School (Titcombe College), James Hadley Chase was our most mesmerizing path to America. The irony of prefering the America of an enthralling British author was supremely lost on us. We did not just read Chase, we lived each title and its captivating characters. You boasted to schoolmates that the trouble was finding which Chase you hadn’t read. Confessing to having not read a particular Hadley Chase title was a felony. I learnt the hard way when I owned up to having not read Want to Stay Alive? in Form Two. “Ah, you mean you don’t know Poke Toholo?”, my friends asked in horror, their tone acquiring an instant whiff of superiority.