Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

  

This is one of the most vivid, absorbing, and excruciatingly painful books I've read in a long time. Set in Nigeria during the 1960s, it revolves around twin sisters: Olanna and Kainene, daughters of a wealthy Igbo chief and businessman. It alternates among three points of view. First, there is Ugwu, houseboy to Olanna's lover, Odenigbo, a revolutionary professor. Ugwu comes from a village where a corrugated iron roof on a mud hut is a tremendous luxury, so he revels in the relative opulence of Odenigbo's modest house. Odenigbo's home becomes a salon where local intellectuals gather to talk, and Ugwu, who is keenly intelligent, absorbs everything going on around him. Second, we see the story through Olanna's eyes. Third, it is told from the point of view of Richard, Kainene's English expatriate lover.

The author skillfully navigates the perspectives of these three people, from vastly different backgrounds, portraying Nigeria in a time of a brutal civil war and genocide. This author did a phenomenal job of describing the progression of the war and how it affected everyone -- from a wealthy chief's family to peasants. Watching their suffering increase, I felt the tightening fear, helplessness, frustration, and outrage. The effect is heightened by unforgettable images -- ragged soldiers holding fake wooden rifles, sick, malnourished babies with thinning hair and swollen bellies, and the head of a murdered girl, hair lovingly braided, which her mother carries in a basket.

While this book is obviously painful to read, I did enjoy it -- it was not a "fun" read, but it was pleasurable and gratifying. I loved the vivid, complex characters and the vibrantly described landscape. I also savored the author's skillful use of language, the suspense, and the flow of the story.

This is only one dimension of my experience with this novel. It was my introduction to Nigeria and Biafra, a part of the country that seceded from Nigeria and formed an independent nation. I wrote here about why I love multicultural literature so much. I enjoy learning about history and other cultures through various venues, including non-fiction, movies, and television, but well crafted novels are my favorite. The combination of taking a journey to another time and place and reading about familiar life experiences -- falling in love, coping with betrayal, caring for a child, and wading through grief -- makes the setting and the events described a part of me.

One of the things that amazed me most about Half of a Yellow Sun was the complex and jarringly believable way the author explored grief and human evil. There are many shades of grief here. We see the kind that swallows you and cripples you. And we see people learning of deaths and continuing as if nothing happened, because tragedy has simply become part of the fabric of daily life. This novel explores variations of evil, from murder and cruelty to staying silent, in another part of the world, while atrocities take place. We also get a glimpse of a heinous crime committed by a character who is not evil. This is ugly and painful, but it helps me understand humanity better.

This is a brilliant novel, with deeply flawed characters who are vividly painted, moments of sensuality and joy, and a picture of evil and suffering that is gut-wrenching, but also illuminating. It does what phenomenal novels do -- it helps us understand humanity, and our history, a bit better by taking us along on a journey that is both foreign and wrenchingly familiar.  

Read More Reviews: SmallWorld Reads; Ready When You Are, C.B.; Maw Books Blog; Kiss a Cloud; Non-Fiction Five Challenge; She Treads Softly; Farm Lane Books Blog; Musings of a Bookish Kitty; Page 247; Fizzy Thoughts; Lotus Reads; Things Mean a Lot; The Adventures of an Intrepid Reader


Rating: 5

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Purple Hibiscus takes place in Nigeria as the nation teeters on the brink of a political coup. This instability has been provoked by the government's harsh repression of free speech; journalists are risking their lives to stand up for freedom. Wrapped within this larger story is the tale narrated by 15-year-old Kambili, who watches her family's stability unravel after her brother Jaja makes his own bid for freedom.

It happens on Palm Sunday when Jaja doesn't go to communion. The children have spent their lives in a elegant, carefully ordered home where they've lived in terror of their maniacally religious, controlling father. Kambili and and Jaja just returned from a 10-day visit to their aunt and cousins in an academic community. Aunty Ifeoma's house lacked the material comfort to which they were accustomed, but for the first time the kids experienced a kind of faith and way of life that is filled with joy and laughter. They all participate in household chores, actively contributing to the family's survival and well-being. Physical punishment is relatively mild. And the children are actively encouraged to disagree and debate the issues of the day. Having experienced a taste of freedom, Kambili and Jaja are changed.
Jaja's act of defiance, refusing to take communion, triggers a storm in their family.

Everything came tumbling down after Palm Sunday. Howling winds came with an angry rain, uprooting frangipani trees in the front yard. They lay on the lawn, their pink and white flowers grazing the grass, their roots waving lumpy soil in the air. The satellite dish on top of the garage came crashing down, and lounged on the driveway like a visiting alien spaceship. The door of my wardrobe dislodged completely. Sisi broke a full set of Mama's china. Even the silence that descended on the house was sudden, as though the old silence had broken and left us with sharp pieces. p. 257

Throughout the novel, as in the above quote, the story of Kambili's family and her difficult journey through adolescence are seamlessly connected to descriptions of the natural world around them. Their experiences are reflected in nature, in a way that is sometimes tumultuous and sometimes wondrous. For example, after spending time at Aunty Ifeoma's house and becoming aware of herself as a person who has thoughts and feelings separate from her father's, Kambili has a spiritual awakening. It begins this way:

We stood underneath a huge flame-of-the-forest tree. It was in bloom, its flowers fanning out on wide branches and the ground underneath covered with petals the color of fire. When the young girl was led out, the flame-of-forest swayed and flowers rained down. p. 274

This novel is gorgeous. I loved the sensual beauty of the imagery, the vibrant color, and the vivid descriptions of the flora, fauna, and climate of Nigeria.

The author's exploration of Kambili's psyche is so real I felt I was a part of her. I loved watching Kambili become aware of her own body and begin to experience her own emotions and really feel the world around her.

The other characters are also beautifully drawn and complex. Kambili's father, Eugene, could easily have been a caricature and a person who seems unworthy of the reader's compassion. He commits horrible acts against his family, and he lives in luxury while surrounded by impoverished families; it's a somewhat feudal sort of community. Yet he is fully human. He stands up for human rights and pays tuition for many needy children. And at moments, he shows deep love and tenderness for his family. His charity work and loving moments with his family are inextricably entangled with his need to control others. However, I couldn't entirely loathe him.

Kambili's passive and emotionally damaged mother is also a complicated character; I couldn't predict exactly what she would do. I was equally drawn to her brother Jaja, their fiercely intelligent and kind but flawed Aunty Ifeoma, their grandfather, who practices traditional "pagan" beliefs, and Aunty Ifeoma's brilliant, feisty and outspoken children.

What shines most of all, I think, are the myriad themes woven into Purple Hibuscus. It explores control versus freedom, which we see played out within an individual, in a family, in a community and nation, and throughout the world. It probes the conflict between traditional tribal beliefs and "white man's religion" in post-colonial Africa. It explores the cruel marriage between religion and repression, and it also gives us glimpses of what genuine faith, rooted in personal freedom, can be. At the same time, it looks at the role nature plays in people's everyday lives and a young girl's coming of age.

While it is heart-wrenching, this is ultimately a hopeful story illuminated by love, personal awakening, and the persistence of human desire for freedom. I highly recommend it, especially for readers who enjoy contemporary literary fiction and are interested in African cultures.

Read More Reviews: S. Krishna's Books; One More Chapter; A Striped Armchair; Book Addiction; A Book Blog. Period.; Things Mean a Lot


Rating: 5

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me