Book Review: 'Americanah' by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

This is my first ever review on this site, so please don't shoot me. Plus, it's my personal opinion.

We are initially introduced to Ifemelu whilst she's at an African hair salon. She has just decided to return to Nigeria and leave her prospering race blog and African American boyfriend behind. The story of how she got to America is told through a series of flashbacks interwoven into the main story and eventually reaching the present. If you're not too careful, you might get confused but Adichie's writing is fluid enough for the reader to easily follow.

She speaks of traditional African conventions that many Africans can relate to. The love story between main characters Ifemelu and Obinze is both heartwarming and heart wrenching. We get the whole story of how the new guy is supposedly supposed to date her mixed-race best friend but instead has his eye on Ifemelu. So begins their blossoming romance which spans from childhood to early adulthood. 

Obinze idealises America and aspires to study there and live there with Ifemelu. Unfortunately, post-9/11 America refuses to grant him entrance so he sets his eyes on Britain. After struggling to make ends meat and living on an expired visa, Obinze attempts a 'sham-marriage', a common way for immigrants to gain citizenship. He is later deported: shamed.

Ifemelu, on the other hand, seems to fair slightly better in the USA. However, she too finds life abroad difficult. She battles depression that ultimately leads to her losing contact with Obinze and the awful thing is that this all would've been avoided. Anyway, she meets a white guy and they have this lavish lifestyle but she doesn't tell her parents about him, for reasons not elaborated deeply on. She speaks regularly on the racism faced by Black Americans and how she never felt that she was Black until she moved to the USA. 

Without giving much away, this book is absolutely fantastic! I've read very few books that have given me this light feeling. This is mainly because the ending satisfied me, unlike the ending of The Reluctant Fundamentalist. -_-

An extract from 'Americanah' by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

This brings to mind an interesting issue: black beauty. In this day and age of skin lighteners and relaxers, the image of pale skinned Europeans has been drilled into our minds as being what black women should aspire to be. I noticed that the issue of race has been brought several times whilst I've been reading Americanah. I strongly recommend that you read this book. This extract mostly deals with the issue of racial identification and the controversial issue of race relations.

***

To My Fellow Non-American Blacks: In America, You Are Black, Baby

Dear Non-American Black, when you make the choice to come to America, you become black. Stop arguing. Stop saying I'm Jamaican or I'm Ghanaian. America doesn't care. So what if you weren't "black" in your country? You're in America now. We all have our moments of initiation into the Society of Former Negroes. Mine was in a class in undergrad when I was asked to give the black perspective, only I had no idea what that was. So I just made something up. And admit it - you say, "I'm not black" only because you know black is at the bottom of America's race ladder. And you want none of that. Don't deny now. What if being black had all the privileges of being white? Would you still say "Don't call me black, I'm from Trinidad"? I don't think so. So you're black, baby. And here's the deal with becoming black: You must show that you are offended when such words as "watermelon" or "tar baby" are used in jokes, even if you don't know what the hell is being talked about -and since you are Non-American Black, the chances are that you won't know. (In undergrad a white classmate asks if I like watermelon, I say yes, and another classmate says, Oh my God that is so racist, and I'm confused. "Wait, how?") You must nod back when a black person nods at you in a heavily white area. It is called the black nod. It is a way for black people to say "You are not alone, I am here too." In describing black women you admire, always use the word "STRONG" because that is what black women are supposed to be in America. If you are a woman, please do not speak your mind as you are used to doing in your country. Because in America, strong-minded black women are SCARY. And if you are a man, be hyper-mellow, never get too excited, or somebody will worry that you're about to pull a gun. When you watch television and hear that a "racist slur" was used, you must immediately become offended. Even though you are thinking "But why won't they tell me exactly what was said?" Even though you would like to be able to decide for yourself how offended to be, or whether to be offended at all, you must nevertheless be very offended.

When a crime is reported, pray that it was not committed by a black person, and if it turns out to have been committed by a black person, stay well away from the crime area for weeks, or you might be stopped for fitting the profile. If a black cashier gives poor service to the non-black person in front of you, compliment that person's shoes or something, to make up for the bad service, because you're just as guilty for the cashier's crimes. If you are in an Ivy League college, and a Young Republican tells you that you got in only because of Affirmative Action, do not whip out your perfect grades from high school. Instead, gently point out that the biggest beneficiaries of Affirmative Action are white women. If you go to eat in a restaurant, please tip generously. Otherwise the next black person who comes in will get awful service, because waiters groan when they get a black table. You see, black people have a gene that makes them not tip, so please overpower that gene. If you're telling a non-black person about something racist that happened to you, make sure you are not bitter. Don't complain. Be forgiving. If possible make it funny. Most of all, do not be angry. Black people are not supposed to be angry about racism. Otherwise you get no sympathy. This applies only for white liberals, by the way. Don't even bother telling a white conservative about anything racist that happened to you. Because the conservative will tell you that YOU are the real racist and your mouth will hang open in confusion.

*** 

-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Existential Crisis

I don't know how to breath any more. I feel inadequate. Whenever I hang out with my friends I always stand awkwardly to the side whilst everyone else socialises. I usually force myself to feel this way. I believe that by distancing myself from the crowd, I am indeed individualising myself: therefore adding another degree to my personality. Makes sense? No? OK, I guess I have to hold your hand through this...

I started reading a new book the other day. It's rather thick(477 pages to be exact, which isn't very long but the print is on the small side), and initially when I glanced at it, I thought the task rather daunting. I've found myself facing the same issue at the start of every book: the reluctance to begin what I know I can't finish. I didn't have the same issue when I started reading The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid, and finished it in 3 days. It was rather slow in the book, but after the collapse of the Twin Towers, I found myself boiling a cup of green tea and sipping it occasionally as I concentrated and the string of words spread on the pages. When I finished it, I felt empty. Like a piece of my soul had been devoured. That night, I dreamt of it. I dreamt of the events that unfolded in the book, and how I grew to slightly dislike America even more; resolving to carry my chalice filled with Southern African heritage proudly if I were to ever go overseas for uni. 

After stewing over that strange ending for a while and trying to decipher whose side Changez was really on, I decided to take on the task of reading Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche. I initially picked it up and a copy of Half of a Yellow Sun with the same starry-eyed gaze I give to other books that are made into movies. I was already swallowed into the bustling world of Philadelphia and Lagos and soon forgot all about how thick the book is and how I should probably get started studying for finals. Once I had reached my goal or reading 100 pages in one day, I shut the book lovingly and reflected on the impact that Chimamanda's words had had on me. It soon dawned on me that at this rate, I might actually finish this book in less than a week and that saddened me. 

You see, this book is so amazing that I don't want to keep it to myself. Sometimes, when I read a book that I greatly enjoy, I don't feel like sharing it. I want it to remain obscure so that no one else can come between the bond that the writer and I share. I mean, it's our  special connection and this book brought me through the strenuous tentacles of boredom that were strapped around me during this first week of holiday. However, it's an entirely different story with Americanah. I want to find someone, anyone, who will share the same burning love that I feel for these characters. I want to carry the book to class with me next term and hold it close to my bosom as I walk around campus. It will certainly be a great conversation starter. People will stare apprehensively at its bulking mass and ask me how far I am, at which point I will reply; "Ah., but my dear friend, I have already finished it!" (Obviously I won't be as animated. I lack personality and possess the social skills of a manatee.) Then I will add the fact that carrying this book around makes me feel more secure. 

It comforts me, you know, having a book handy in your bag. Well, any reading material really. Just sticking my hand into the bag and feeling that reassuring lukewarm temperature of the worn pages and the cool cover of the book brings me immense pleasure. I believe that you can tell a lot about a person from the types of books they read. People who don't read, in my opinion, are not open-minded enough. Reading allows you to enter the world of the author for as long as you desire. You meet these characters and share in their life's story; laugh with them; cry with them; fall in love with them. 

If you haven't caught onto what I'm trying to say, then I suggest that you invest in some therapy. Seriously, you clearly don't understand words or people. *Sigh* Basically, I don't want to finish reading Americanah. I want to savour the moment when I turn the yellowing pages of that book and inhale the subtle smell of age. It's funny right? How books always smell like age. There's no way to describe their smell. Magazines smell like carrots and books smell like...well, books.

              -"Knowledge is power"