Korede's little sister Ayoola is young and beautiful and has had men after her every waking moment since she entered puberty.

She's killed at least three of them, claiming self-defense, and Korede (being the older, supposedly wiser, supposedly less attractive sister) has had to help her hide the evidence.

My Sister, The Serial Killer manages to be both a thoroughly entertaining novel (a very quick read, short chapters, just enough flashbacks to set the scene and keep us on our toes until the end) and a biting satire of gender roles. Is Ayoola truly a sociopath, or has she simply learned to live in a world where women are treated as prey, where beauty and compliance with the norm are commodities that have to be sold all over again every single day of one's life? Is the doctor that both sisters are infatuated with the modern sensitive Nice Guy that Korede sees him as, or the shallow temporary entertainment Ayoola treates him as? Braithwaite isn't telling; her narrator may have her ideas, but she's part of it all herself. I love how sneaky the book is; every single everyday social interaction, whether with bosses or cops or boyfriends or fellow nurses or their (now-dead) father, is just slightly off-balance without ever going over the top. Everyone survives an off-balance world in their own way... until the balance shifts too far and they don't.