Ara Ikoyi needs a story. Juicy Mbelu needs to be heard. Somewhere between those two desires, Women Rent Men and Secrets Here erupts.
Damilare Kuku’s third book throws readers into a Lagos estate buzzing with scandal, money, judgment, and intimacy. A woman has allegedly killed her sugar daddy. Social media has already convicted her. The law is dragging behind. And Ara, a writer battling creative drought, sees the chaos as a possible lifeline.
Ara is under pressure: three successful books behind her, nothing new to show. Juicy, her neighbour, is under a different kind of pressure, viral, accused, and stripped of nuance. When Juicy agrees to tell Ara her story, she demands control: no edits, no moral softening, no interference. Storytelling here comes at a cost, and the book makes that clear early.
At its core, the novel examines transactional relationships—women navigating money, power, sex, and survival and the violence that often lurks beneath them. Kuku refuses easy judgments. These women are not symbols or lessons; they are messy, practical, and deeply human. The book repeatedly asks who actually pays when such arrangements collapse.
Lagos itself is a central character. Not the glossy version, but one filled with estate gossip, hypocrisy, police intimidation, and constant chaos. It feels exaggerated until you realise it isn’t. Lagos rarely is.
Stylistically, the book reads like a sharp Nollywood film fast-paced, dramatic, visually vivid. Kuku’s writing is loud and unapologetic, leaning into excess rather than restraint, which feels refreshing in an era of polished neutrality.
The one misstep is the ending, which arrives too quickly, leaving little space to fully sit with the aftermath. Still, the novel largely succeeds in what it sets out to do.
Women Rent Men and Secrets Here is chaotic, uncomfortable, and deeply entertaining. It doesn’t offer tidy morals or easy resolutions. Instead, it trusts the reader to think, feel, and live with discomfort—and that trust is its greatest strength.
