Mandy Sutter's 'Bush Meat' triumphs in its lean prose and true dialogue, in its disarming humour, in its evocation of a family divided by sexism and racism in 1960s Nigeria.

I don't see how you can avoid the fact that the books are riddled with sadism, racism, sexism. In books, readers tend to skate over all these horrible ambiguities. The moment they're put on film, it's very difficult to duck them.

Marines either know how to use an iron or they get married [...]. The iron is less dangerous.

Ageism is as odious as racism and sexism.

"Isms" are tools used by those who wish to control the weak for their own selfish pursuits.

To me, it remains incomprehensible that a people who can design the Porsche 911 and sleek, white ice trains, who created the Bauhaus and speak at least three languages at birth, want to own twee Christmas figurines painted in gaudy colours, dress up in Bavarian lederhosen, and eat Haribo gummy bears.