TITLE: After 4:30 (Third Edition) 

AUTHOR: David G. Maillu

PUBLISHER: Self-Published

REVIEWER: Joan Thatiah

AVAILABILITY: shop.eKitabu.com, ‘On eKitabu’ app and local bookstores

PRICE: Ksh1,2000 (Print)

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I was nine years old the first time I read After 4:30. I didn’t even know what the title meant. The book was just there in the house, left on a table or tucked between older books on a shelf. I remember stealing glances at it, then finally picking it up and reading, even though I knew it had themes far too mature for a child my age. But Maillu’s words… eh, Maillu wrote so well. He drew me in like a magnet.

I could see the women he wrote about. I could feel their pain; the way it sat heavily on their shoulders as they navigated city life and career and marriage. I could hear the bitterness in their voices, taste the unshed tears stuck in their throats. I didn’t know it then, but that was the day I decided I wanted to write. Not just write, but write like that. Write like Maillu. With sharpness. With clarity. With honesty.

So you can imagine what it meant to me to hold an advance copy of the revised edition of After 4:30 in my hands. To turn its pages decades later, not as a wide-eyed child sneaking literature under a blanket, but as a grown woman who understands what it means to feel invisible, to be exhausted, to love and be taken for granted.

To meet these female characters again — Emili , Lili and Beti — is like meeting old friends, friends who once whispered truths to me in the dark, who now speak even louder in the light of adulthood. What’s both beautiful and heartbreaking is the realization that many of the challenges facing Kenyan women 51 years ago, the emotional labour, the quiet suffering in marriage, and  the hunger for something more, are still with us today.

A gentle polish

The language might have changed, and we might wear bolder lipstick or louder confidence, but the core struggles remain. Reading this revised edition, I found myself grieving how far we haven’t come, even as I celebrated Maillu’s timeless ability to lay it all bare.

This revised edition is everything and more. It stays true to the raw, unfiltered emotion that made the original book such a hit. Nothing fundamental has changed in the book, and that’s the beauty of it. The stories remain intact: bold, unapologetic, and true to Maillu’s original voice. What’s new is the editorial sprucing up: cleaner punctuation, smoother transitions, and a gentle polish that respects the original while making it more accessible to today’s reader. It’s like dusting off an old photograph — you don’t change the moment captured, you just let it shine clearer.

The writing remains spare and cutting. He doesn’t waste time. He never did.  The eroticism is still present, still unapologetic.

As someone who has walked my own writing journey, I found myself nodding, underlining, and whispering “yes” as I read. Maillu still tells the truth. He still refuses to sugarcoat it. But this time, he tells it even more clearly.

This book remains important. Maybe even more now than when I first read it. Back then, it opened my eyes to the power of the written word. Now, it reminds me why I write. To tell our stories. To give voice to the struggle of present-day Kenyan woman. To show the lives that begin, or unravel, after 4:30.

David Maillu is not just a pioneer; he is a gift for seeing and naming the quiet, often overlooked truths of ordinary life. And this book? It’s a reckoning.

Joan Thatiah is author of Confessions of Nairobi Women and Confessions of Nairobi Men series, among other books. Email: jthatiah@gmail.com