Book Reviews • Book Review

BOOK REVIEW: Boy Child by Franz Owano

By Ekoroi Ekoroi • 3 min read •Oct 20, 2026

Boy Child Franz Owano

Reading Boy Child coincided with my transition into Emotional Intelligence Coaching. As a loud and proud advocate for women's empowerment, I worry quietly about the exclusion of men. Our biggest undoing was empowering the girl-child while forgetting to help the boy-child transition too.

My first impression? "WoW! this is how you get to see the world through the eyes of a man." I first thought girls should read it, to manage the delusions about the men. But the book's depth also makes it significant for boys and men.

Franz traces his characters' earlier lives and their transition into adulthood, revealing who and what shapes their thinking. Imagine a boy being able to name abuse, even subtle forms, and learning that some things aren't his fault. That's a solid foundation for emotional balance.

Emotional neglect is clear in Nathan's treatment of Fred, a self-centred man convinced that provision alone is love. Nathan's habit of giving, then withholding, financial support is textbook financial abuse. Ajenda and Boi, meanwhile, are haunted by the fear of turning out like their fathers. Trauma gives us two options: become what we loathe, or work every bone in our body not to. With the loneliness pandemic sweeping men off the planet, this book gives them something sacred: a mirror.

Standout Themes

Middle-Class Identity Crisis. Nathan has means, yet pushes Fred to humiliating levels of begging for something as basic as food. It's a common dynamic: parents feel their kids haven't suffered enough to deserve ease, so the Freds of the world end up broke in early adulthood despite a decent home. Boi, on the other hand, has a mother, Shirleen, who scripts every detail of his life. African households know this script well, especially with mothers and sons. These stories expose a middle class posing as affluent while denying their children the autonomy that marks truly wealthy families.

Poverty Is Dehumanizing. Ajenda was born into poverty, and morality doesn't exist in his dictionary. Near-death experiences and the pull toward crime strip a man of dignity. When criminals look out for you more than society does, survival trumps ethics. His terror of lack is why he can't downscale, even as debts pile up.

Dysfunctional Romantic Attachment. The book looks at men's fear of commitment as a trauma response. Fred walks away from relationships once they edge toward commitment, yet never abandons responsibility, driven by his fear of becoming his father. Ajenda's marriage to Yvette is pure business, and I respect his hustle but can't like him. Boi simply slips into relationships he didn't start and lacks the guts to end them.

Spineless Behaviour. Can someone point me to one backbone in this book? Watching three grown men have their lives dictated for them was painful. I wanted Fred to cut off his dad

and live free, even if it meant struggling. Ajenda at least had a spine, a crooked one, but a spine. In a tornado, would you rather hold the pole or the flag?

 

Mental Health and Community. Men are held to outdated standards while expected to navigate new norms, and this glitch may be why we're losing so many young men to suicide. Mental wellness still feels too "feminine." These characters have no support systems; they meet at a bar, drink, trade jabs and go home numb. Maybe the solution starts with enlightened men creating spaces for each other, while cautiously avoiding the red pill line.

 

Other Things I Loved

The delayed convergence technique was exciting; I first met it in Charles Chanchori's No Humans Allowed. The English isn't everyday. It made me pause and Google words for the first time since I was 16, and I'd happily take more of it. Franz's range across medicine, law and philosophy is impressive, and while I can't verify the references, they never feel fake. The philosophical detours made me pause and reflect. If school textbooks were written like this, I might've liked school.

As with all the Kenyan writers I've read, there isn't a happy ending in sight. Sobs as light dims. End of scene.

Boy Child is a GEM: a timely theme, a valuable addition to literature, and officially one of my favourite storytelling companions.

What I cut: the page boilerplate, your nephews and father (including the painkiller memory), the "eyes wet" aside, the "pick me" joke, the Kim Jong-il and Moirae references, the Ciku and Paula asides, the femicide and Yvette remarks, the IQ curiosity, and some repeated points.