What are the opening hours?

Monday 09:00 - 17:00 Tuesday 09:00 - 17:00 Wednesday 09:00 - 17:00 Thursday 09:00 - 17:00 Friday 09:00 - 17:00 Saturday 09:00 - 17:00

Book Society of Nigeria, Abuja (2026)

11/06/2026

Published by Book Society of Nigeria. For more information kindly visit our website on www.book-societyng.com

Did you know that, as a child of God, you have God’s legitimate backing on the earth to accomplish His plans and purpose for humanity?

Every believer in Jesus—every born-again child of God— has been bequeathed with divine authority for permanent victory over Satan and his antics until Jesus returns!

This revelational book unpacks God-given ability to mankind by answering the singular question: What is the believer’s authority?
“For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, saith the Lord; I will put my laws into their mind and write them in their hearts: and I will be to them a God, and they shall be to me a people” (Hebrews 8:10 KJV).

Which laws was God talking about?
What are we supposed to do with these laws?
Can putting these laws in motion guarantee the permanent success of God’s children?
Understanding the law of gravity and aerodynamics has enabled man to fly airplanes; understanding the believer’s authority will enable every Christian to easily live a victorious Christian life!

11/06/2026

Books published by Book Society of Nigeria. For more information please visit www.book-societyng.com

This book is for parents who have just received a diagnosis they did not expect, and for parents who have been carrying a private worry for months or years and are looking for a place to start.

It is also for parents who are not yet ready to accept what they are seeing. I wrote a great deal of it for them, because I was them.
Three things you should know before you begin reading.

This is not a clinical manual. It will not diagnose your child. It will not replace a developmental pediatrician, a child psychologist, an occupational therapist, a speech- language pathologist, or any of the professionals you may need to assemble around your family in the months ahead. It will help you understand what those professionals are seeing, why they are recommending what they are recommending, and how to translate their work into the rhythms of your household.

This is not a one-size guide. Autism, ADHD, ADD, and the family of conditions that fall under the broader heading of neurodivergence express themselves differently in every child. The chapters that follow describe patterns. Your child will fit some of those patterns and not others. That is not a problem with the book or with your child. It is the nature of the territory. Read with a pencil. Mark the parts that match your child. Set aside the parts that do not. Return to those parts later — sometimes a section that seemed irrelevant at age four becomes urgently relevant at age nine.

This is written from a particular place. I am Nigerian by birth and by family, American by long residence, and a father whose own household has lived through the journey this book describes. The case studies, the cultural references, and the household scenes you will read are drawn from my own life and the lives of families my wife and I have served in our medical practice and in the diaspora community we have been part of for more than two decades. If you are not Nigerian, not African, not part of a diaspora community — most of the science and most of the parenting strategies will still apply to your family. But the cultural specificity is deliberate. There is no shortage of autism and ADHD parenting books written for the general American reader. There is a real shortage of books that speak honestly to the particular households many of us are raising our children inside.
The book is organized to follow the rough emotional and practical sequence many parents move through after a diagnosis. The first three chapters address what neurodivergence is, what parents typically feel after diagnosis, and what early signs to recognize. The middle chapters address the day-to-day work — communication, the home environment, discipline, education, emotional regulation, nutrition and sleep. The closing chapters address confidence, independence, and the longer view of what neurodivergent children grow into when they are loved and supported well.

You do not have to read this book in order. If your child is in crisis right now — if there have been daily meltdowns this week, if school has called for the third time this month, if a family disagreement about discipline has reached the point of marital strain — go to the chapter you need most. The book will be here when you are ready to come back to the rest.
A note on what you will not find in this book. You will not find a single recommended therapy, a single recommended diet, a single recommended school, or a single recommended approach to medication. The reason is that I do not know your child. The right answers to all of those questions are answers that have to be worked out in conversation with the people who do — your pediatrician, your evaluator, your therapist, your child’s school team, and, increasingly as the child grows older, your child themselves. What I can offer is the framework inside which those conversations can be productive, and the perspective of a father who has been through them with his own family. The specifics, properly speaking, are yours to determine.

You will also not find, in this book, the promise that the work I am describing is going to be easy or that the outcome is guaranteed. The work is not easy. The outcomes vary. Some neurodivergent children, raised by careful parents, grow into adults whose lives surpass what their parents had imagined. Some grow into adults whose lives are good in different and quieter ways. A few continue to need significant support throughout adult life, and the parents of those children are doing some of the most sustained and meaningful parenting work in any community. There is no version of this book that can predict, for your specific child, what the next twenty years will hold. There is only the work of today, done as well as you can manage it, and trust that the cumulative weight of that work over years will produce a life that is genuinely your child’s own.

What I hope you take from these pages is this: the child you have is not the child you imagined. That difference is a loss, and it is honest to grieve it. But the child you have is also a person whose specific way of moving through the world contains gifts and possibilities that the child you imagined did not. The work of the years ahead is to learn that child — patiently, carefully, in the language they actually speak — and to build a life with them in which both their challenges and their gifts are taken seriously.
You will be tired. You will be sometimes wrong. You will, on the hardest days, want to stop. Do not stop. The parents I have known who showed up consistently for their neurodivergent children — even imperfectly, even with mistakes along the way — raised those children into adults whose lives were good. Yours can too.

11/06/2026

Published by Book Society of Nigeria. For more information please visit www.book-societyng.com

Pamp City is not merely a place.
It is Nigeria compressed into overcrowded rooms, leaking roofs, broken drainage, unpaid rent, loud prayers, wounded dignity, and exhausted survival.

Inside Compound Twelve, life unfolds publicly.
Floods become spectacles.
Marriage becomes gossip.
Poverty becomes inheritance.
And even heartbreak must learn how to coexist with generator noise and bathroom queues.

When a shocking paternity scandal explodes inside the compound, the fragile lives of Mr. Banda, Mama Kemi, Pa Johnbull, and little Miracle collide in a deeply emotional story about betrayal, loneliness, survival, power, and the painful meaning of fatherhood.
But Pamp City is more than scandal.
It is a brutal mirror reflecting the emotional realities of millions trapped inside poverty where privacy no longer exists, suffering becomes entertainment, and survival itself is treated like achievement.
Yet beneath the chaos, laughter survives.
Love survives.
Humanity survives.
And ordinary people continue carrying impossible burdens while the world watches casually from plastic chairs.
Powerful, emotional, funny, tragic, and painfully real, Pamp City is a moving portrait of modern urban survival and the resilient human spirit struggling to breathe beneath poverty, shame, and hope.
Because in Pamp City, suffering never truly ends.
It merely changes tenants.

11/06/2026

Published by Book Society of Nigeria. For more information kindly visit us on www.book-Societyng.com

In the restless city of Lagos, where ambition and suffering often lived on the same street, Nduka Eboh believed in love with the innocence of a man who had never learned to protect his heart from sacrifice.
He met Ikechi while she was still a university student in Lagos.
She came from a poor family. The kind of family where survival itself was a daily negotiation. Her widowed mother sold food by the roadside to keep her children alive. School fees arrived through tears, prayers, and borrowed money.
Nduka was not rich either.

His father was a retired civil servant living quietly in Surulere. Pension payments came late and disappeared quickly. Their family survived modestly, carefully measuring every expense.
But Nduka loved Ikechi completely.
For three years, he stood beside her through everything. Through examinations. Through hunger. Through uncertainty. Through nights when she cried because she feared dropping out of school.
He borrowed money to support her education. Sometimes he skipped meals so she could eat. Sometimes he spent his transport fare just to make sure she had enough for handouts and assignments.
And when she graduated, he married her.

The wedding was simple but beautiful. Family members danced beneath rented canopies while friends sprayed small naira notes they could barely afford. His mother smiled proudly throughout the ceremony because she believed her son had found a woman who would stand beside him forever.
One year later, they welcomed a beautiful baby girl.
They named her Venice.
The child became the heartbeat of their struggling home.
But Lagos was merciless to poor families trying to survive honestly.
Rent increased constantly. Transportation swallowed income. Food prices rose faster than hope. Dreams became late-night conversations whispered beneath exhausted ceiling fans during power outages.
Then one evening, Ikechi sat beside him quietly.

“What if I travel to America?” she asked softly.
Nduka looked at her in silence.
She explained everything carefully. She had heard stories of women who traveled abroad, worked hard, and transformed the lives of their families forever.
“If I can get there,” she whispered, “I will help us. I will help Venice. I will help you. We will finally live the life we deserve.”
Nduka did not want separation.
But he loved her too deeply to stand in the way of hope.
The problem was money.
They had almost nothing.

Still, he refused to surrender.
He sold his treasured land telephone line, one of the few valuable things he owned. He borrowed money from friends. He swallowed his pride repeatedly. He begged for support from people who mocked his desperation behind closed doors.
Everything he gathered, he used to send his wife to the United States.
The day she left through Murtala Muhammed International Airport, Nduka stood at the departure terminal fighting tears.
“Don’t forget me,” he said quietly.
Ikechi held his hands tightly.
“How can I ever forget you?” she replied.
For months after arriving in America, they spoke every day.
Nduka endured the loneliness because he believed suffering had an expiration date.
Then Ikechi suggested something else.
“Bring Venice to America first,” she said. “It will make things easier for us later.”
Again, Nduka sacrificed.
He approached his elder brother, Frank Eboh, whose children were American citizens. After emotional persuasion, Frank reluctantly agreed to allow the passport of his first daughter—who was the same age as Venice—to be used.
Frank’s wife eventually traveled with little Venice to her mother in America.
Now Nduka was completely alone in Lagos.
But he endured it because he believed love required patience.
Every morning he woke up imagining reunion. Every night he slept believing sacrifice would eventually be rewarded.
But while he waited faithfully in Lagos, something else was happening abroad.
America changed Ikechi.
Slowly at first.
Then completely.
She met an African American man and eventually told Nduka she needed to marry him temporarily to adjust her immigration papers.
“It’s just for legal status,” she assured him.
“You are still my husband.”
Nduka believed her.
Because faithful people often struggle to imagine betrayal at the depth deceptive people can perform it.
Unknown to him, Ikechi had already moved on emotionally.
She became pregnant.
And she hid it.
She spoke to Nduka every day while carrying another man’s child.
Even after giving birth to a baby boy, she concealed the truth completely.
For nearly two years.
Meanwhile, Nduka remained in Lagos waiting for visa arrangements, waiting for documents, waiting for promises, waiting for a love that had already died.
Then one afternoon, a friend called him.
“Nduka... I heard your wife’s son will be two years old next week.”

The world stopped.
At first, he laughed nervously.
“What son?”
But deep inside, something terrible had already begun collapsing.
His hands started shaking violently. His breathing became unstable. His chest tightened with unbearable pressure.
He called Ikechi repeatedly.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Finally she answered.
And somewhere between excuses, silence, denial, and shattered truth, the life Nduka Eboh built around sacrifice disintegrated completely.
Doctors later described it as cardiac arrest.
But heartbreak had already destroyed him long before his heart stopped beating.
Friends said he changed after that day.
He stopped smiling.
Stopped visiting people.
Stopped speaking about the future.
A man who once endured suffering with hope now stared endlessly into emptiness. He died carrying unbearable questions inside him.
Questions about sacrifice.
About loyalty.
About betrayal.
About whether love truly survives poverty and distance.
And perhaps the cruelest part of all—
Neither Ikechi nor Venice attended his funeral in Lagos.
On the day Nduka was buried, heavy rain fell across the city.
His retired father stood beside the grave trembling uncontrollably as soil covered the coffin of the son who gave everything for love.
Friends cried openly.
Some cursed Ikechi quietly.
Others simply stared at the grave in silence because they understood one painful truth: Nduka Eboh did not die poor.
He died heartbroken.
And sometimes, heartbreak is the most painful death a human being can suffer.

11/06/2026

Published by Book Society of Nigeria
For more information please visit www.book-Societyng.com

Evocative Proximity is a novel about what happens when closeness arrives before trust, when attraction forms faster than courage, and when silence becomes more destructive than truth. It is a story born not only from romance, but from the fragile human need to be seen, chosen, and protected—especially by those we call friends.

At its heart, this book explores three forces that shape many young lives:
love, envy, and miscommunication.
It asks uncomfortable questions:
How much of love survives when others speak into it?
How often do we confuse loyalty with access?
And how easily can betrayal disguise itself as concern?

Angel and Parker’s journey is not written to comfort you—it is written to confront you. It mirrors the quiet moments where assumptions replace conversations, where pride delays honesty, and where third voices are allowed to narrate private truths. Their intimacy is tender, their bond intoxicating, their fall devastating—not because love was weak, but because it was unguarded. Clara’s presence reminds us of a difficult reality: not all harm comes from enemies. Some comes from those who know your fears by heart. This novel does not excuse her—but it seeks to understand how insecurity, comparison, and entitlement can corrode the soul until manipulation feels justified.

This is not a story of perfect people.
It is a story of believable ones.
You will find desire here—quiet, aching, human.
You will find heartbreak—slow, humiliating, real.
And you will find healing—not dramatic, not immediate, but honest.
If you are young, this book is a warning.
If you are older, it may feel like recognition.
And if you have ever loved deeply and lost painfully, this story already knows you.
Read this novel slowly.
Listen to what is not said.
And remember, as you turn these pages:
Love rarely ends because it was not strong enough.
More often, it ends because it was not protected.

10/06/2026

For more information visit www.book-societyng.com.

Published by Book Society of Nigeria

Some betrayals do not arrive with a shout.
They arrive wearing perfume, carrying flowers, speaking softly, and calling you my love.

This novel was born from one terrifying truth: evil does not always look like evil. Sometimes it kneels at the altar beside you. Sometimes it dances with you at your wedding. Sometimes it holds your hand in public while tightening a noose in private.

Nora is the kind of woman people assume will be safe because she is loved, protected, and wealthy. She is beautiful, brilliant, and raised in comfort. But comfort can be a fragile roof—one that collapses when the storm is not outside, but inside the home.
Alfred is the kind of man society often celebrates—polished, charming, “responsible.” Yet beneath that smooth surface lives a hunger so cold it cannot love, only take. What he calls marriage is not partnership. It is access. It is strategy. It is theft dressed in vows.

This story is not written to exploit pain, but to expose deception—the way predators hide behind sympathy, the way a woman’s trauma can be weaponized against her, the way silence becomes a second violence. It is also a story about justice, not as an instant miracle, but as a slow fire that eventually finds what it must burn.

You will meet a woman whose life is shattered—yet she is not destroyed. You will meet a man who planned to inherit everything—yet is left with nothing but the echo of his own cruelty. And you will discover that the most dangerous robbery is not the one done with guns, but the one done with love as camouflage.

May these pages remind you:
Some tears are theatre.
Some smiles are traps.
And sometimes, the very thing meant to bury a woman becomes the evidence that resurrects her.
He wanted all.
He got nothing.

10/06/2026

Published by Book Society of Nigeria. Visit www.book-societyng.com

There are countries you enter with a passport.
And there are countries you enter with your breath held.

This novel begins in the quiet space between those two truths. Soraya Mehrabi believed—like millions before her—that America was a place where patience could substitute for privilege, where obedience could become belonging, and where time, if endured long enough, would soften the sharp edges of uncertainty. She believed that hope was procedural. That if she followed the steps carefully enough, the door would eventually open.

For eighteen years, she did everything right.
She learned that survival did not announce itself with fireworks. It whispered. It hid inside receipts, forms, and envelopes. It lived in waiting rooms and after-hours jobs, in the discipline of silence, in the courage to keep going when the future refused to explain itself.

Soraya did not arrive in America chasing spectacle. She arrived chasing safety. She arrived with the weight of a homeland she loved but could no longer remain inside, with a language that betrayed her accent before her intentions, and with a resolve so quiet it was often mistaken for weakness.

This is a story about that kind of strength.
The kind that folds itself into uniforms and timecards.
The kind that cleans buildings after the world has gone home.
The kind that obeys rules not out of blind faith, but because survival demands precision.

Soraya built her life the way one builds a house on uncertain ground—slowly, carefully, with no room for mistakes. She paid her taxes. She renewed her documents. She kept her record clean and her hopes modest. She learned America not from slogans, but from systems. Not from promises, but from procedures.
And she waited.
The citizenship interview became her horizon. The date around which every sacrifice was organized. The proof that endurance meant something. When the notice arrived, it felt less like an invitation than a verdict delayed—fragile, ordinary paper carrying the weight of eighteen years.
Then it was taken away.
No explanation.
No accusation.
No error she could correct.
Just silence.
What happens to a person when the system they trusted refuses to speak?

This novel is not only about immigration. It is about power—the kind that moves without announcing itself. The kind that operates behind counters and uniforms and acronyms. The kind that can erase a life’s worth of obedience in a single unexplained decision.
Two months after her interview was canceled, Soraya was stopped at a traffic light that had not yet turned red. What followed was not an arrest in the way justice understands arrests. It was a transfer. A handoff. A disappearance disguised as procedure.

There were no questions. No explanations. Only men who arrived swiftly and took her away as though she were an administrative error rather than a human being.
What happened to Soraya in detention—what it took from her body, her health, her vision, her certainty—was not the result of a crime she committed. It was the result of a system that no longer felt obligated to explain itself to the people it controls.
She lost an eye.
But long before that, she lost something else.
The belief that doing everything right guarantees protection.
This book asks uncomfortable questions:
What is legality without mercy?
What is order without accountability?
What does “good moral character” mean when morality is administered without transparency? Soraya’s story is not singular. It is echoed in detention centers, courtrooms, and unmarked offices across the country. But by giving it a name, a face, and a pulse, this novel refuses to let it remain abstract.

This is not a story of villains twirling mustaches or heroes riding in at the last moment. It is a story of ordinary people caught in extraordinary machinery. Of lives reshaped not by malice alone, but by indifference.
And yet—this is also a story of dignity.
Because even when stripped of explanation, health, and certainty, Soraya Mehrabi remains what the system could not erase: human.
May this story unsettle you.
May it anger you.
May it remind you that behind every file number is a life that waited, obeyed, and believed.
And may it ask you, long after the last page, a question that refuses to go away:
Who gets to belong—and who decides when hope is canceled?

10/06/2026

Published by Book Society of Nigeria. Visit www.book-societyng.com

There are countries you enter with a passport.
And there are countries you enter with your breath held.

This novel begins in the quiet space between those two truths. Soraya Mehrabi believed—like millions before her—that America was a place where patience could substitute for privilege, where obedience could become belonging, and where time, if endured long enough, would soften the sharp edges of uncertainty. She believed that hope was procedural. That if she followed the steps carefully enough, the door would eventually open.

For eighteen years, she did everything right.
She learned that survival did not announce itself with fireworks. It whispered. It hid inside receipts, forms, and envelopes. It lived in waiting rooms and after-hours jobs, in the discipline of silence, in the courage to keep going when the future refused to explain itself.

Soraya did not arrive in America chasing spectacle. She arrived chasing safety. She arrived with the weight of a homeland she loved but could no longer remain inside, with a language that betrayed her accent before her intentions, and with a resolve so quiet it was often mistaken for weakness.

This is a story about that kind of strength.
The kind that folds itself into uniforms and timecards.
The kind that cleans buildings after the world has gone home.
The kind that obeys rules not out of blind faith, but because survival demands precision.

Soraya built her life the way one builds a house on uncertain ground—slowly, carefully, with no room for mistakes. She paid her taxes. She renewed her documents. She kept her record clean and her hopes modest. She learned America not from slogans, but from systems. Not from promises, but from procedures.
And she waited.
The citizenship interview became her horizon. The date around which every sacrifice was organized. The proof that endurance meant something. When the notice arrived, it felt less like an invitation than a verdict delayed—fragile, ordinary paper carrying the weight of eighteen years.
Then it was taken away.
No explanation.
No accusation.
No error she could correct.
Just silence.
What happens to a person when the system they trusted refuses to speak?

This novel is not only about immigration. It is about power—the kind that moves without announcing itself. The kind that operates behind counters and uniforms and acronyms. The kind that can erase a life’s worth of obedience in a single unexplained decision.
Two months after her interview was canceled, Soraya was stopped at a traffic light that had not yet turned red. What followed was not an arrest in the way justice understands arrests. It was a transfer. A handoff. A disappearance disguised as procedure.

There were no questions. No explanations. Only men who arrived swiftly and took her away as though she were an administrative error rather than a human being.
What happened to Soraya in detention—what it took from her body, her health, her vision, her certainty—was not the result of a crime she committed. It was the result of a system that no longer felt obligated to explain itself to the people it controls.
She lost an eye.
But long before that, she lost something else.
The belief that doing everything right guarantees protection.
This book asks uncomfortable questions:
What is legality without mercy?
What is order without accountability?
What does “good moral character” mean when morality is administered without transparency? Soraya’s story is not singular. It is echoed in detention centers, courtrooms, and unmarked offices across the country. But by giving it a name, a face, and a pulse, this novel refuses to let it remain abstract.
This is not a story of villains twirling mustaches or heroes riding in at the last moment. It is a story of ordinary people caught in extraordinary machinery. Of lives reshaped not by malice alone, but by indifference.
And yet—this is also a story of dignity.
Because even when stripped of explanation, health, and certainty, Soraya Mehrabi remains what the system could not erase: human.
May this story unsettle you.
May it anger you.
May it remind you that behind every file number is a life that waited, obeyed, and believed.
And may it ask you, long after the last page, a question that refuses to go away:
Who gets to belong—and who decides when hope is canceled?

10/06/2026

For more information please visit www.book-societyng.com

Published by Book Society of Nigeria

This book was not written to create a hero. Nor was it written to create a villain. It was written to present a journey—as it is.
Complex.
Contradictory.
Human.

The life and career of Godswill Akpabio represent more than individual ambition. They reflect the nature of Nigerian politics itself—fluid, strategic, unforgiving.

In telling this story, I have deliberately resisted simplicity. Because simplicity distorts truth. Instead, I have chosen balance:
To show achievement—without ignoring controversy.
To acknowledge strategy—without dismissing consequence.
To examine power—without romanticizing it.

This work is not an endorsement. It is not an indictment. Rather, it is an exploration. Of what it means to rise, to fall, to return, and to hold power in a system that tests every assumption.

The reader must decide. Not based on emotion— but on reflection. Because in the end, no book defines a man. Only time does. And time—is the only author that cannot be challenged.

10/06/2026

Published by Book Society of Nigeria

Some politicians master speeches. Some master alliances. Some master survival. But a few leave behind roads where there were no roads, institutions where there was disorder, and influence that continues speaking long after offices change hands.

From the streets of Rumuepirikom to the center of national political power, the story of Nyesom Ezenwo Wike is not merely a story of politics. It is a story of determination, ambition, conflict, strategy, courage, and transformation. It is the story of a man supporters describe as “Mr. Project,” a leader associated with visible development, fierce loyalty, direct action, and a political style that refuses invisibility.

Admired by supporters as a builder and criticized by opponents as uncompromising, Wike has remained one of the most discussed and influential political figures in modern Nigeria. Whether in Rivers State or in the Federal Capital Territory, his presence has repeatedly shaped political conversations and public realities.

This book takes readers beyond headlines and beyond political slogans into the journey of a young man from Rumuepirikom whose path moved through law, local government, state leadership, national responsibility, controversy, power, and legacy. Because history rarely remembers leaders simply because they occupied offices. History remembers those who changed conversations. History remembers those who altered landscapes. History remembers those who became impossible to ignore. And whether loved, questioned, admired, or opposed, one reality remains:
Nyesom Ezenwo Wike has left footprints that continue speaking.

For more information kindly visit www.book-societyng.com

Book Society of Nigeria

11/06/2026

11/06/2026

11/06/2026

11/06/2026

11/06/2026

10/06/2026

10/06/2026

10/06/2026

10/06/2026

10/06/2026

Address

Opening Hours

Telephone

Website

Alerts

Contact The Business

Shortcuts

Share

Monday	09:00 - 17:00
Tuesday	09:00 - 17:00
Wednesday	09:00 - 17:00
Thursday	09:00 - 17:00
Friday	09:00 - 17:00
Saturday	09:00 - 17:00