Americanah

Americanah is about a Nigerian woman who moves to the United States for college, separating from her boyfriend Obinze. After 15 years in the US she comes back to Nigeria and has to grapple with the changes in herself as she tries to reconnect with Obinze, who has his own life to deal with following his own brief expatriate experience in London. Supposedly a sweeping love story, this is actually a novel of ideas about race and racism, nationalism, and identity.

I absolutely loved the first half, which covers Ifemelu's secondary schooling in Nigeria and the early years of her move to the United States. In this part, she is ambitious, curious, striving, and likable. But as she succeeds in America, she becomes increasingly self-important, show more inflexible, snooty, and even cruel. Maybe there is a message in there, but I don't think it was the one intended. When she returns to Nigeria, she brings all these negative qualities with her, so it's not a matter of finding the right place to "be herself." My first major issue with the book was that the character's arc is disappointing. I think we are supposed to see her as strong, blunt, and passionate, growing to be more herself over the course of the book, more confident. But she shows inability to learn from her experiences and increasingly comes off as rigid, rude, and judgmental.

Unfortunately from a plot perspective, the book also gets weaker in the second half. The powerful ideas about race and racism are not an organic part of the plot but are shoehorned in as excerpts from Ifemelu's blog posts and/or rambling conversations that take place at dinners and "salons" held by various east coast American intellectuals, none of whom are individuated. It feels like a cast of hundreds, and they each get to come in and say their 2 lines, and then disappear, never to be heard from again. This is disappointing, and though the ideas were interesting, the method of incorporating them into the story was not. (Also, I feel that maybe these conversations were fresher and more surprising ten years ago when this book came out? But that's my fault for waiting this long to read the book, not Adichie's.)

And finally, without sharing any spoilers, I'll just say that I hated the ending and am firmly on Team Kosi. show less

"I didn't know I was black until I moved to America." Adichie's story of a Nigerian woman moving to the US and then returning home again is a strong novel, and much like Half Of A Yellow Sun it's very hard to put down once you get into it. A believable star-crossed (or rather pride-and-accident-crossed) lovers' tale framing a story of identity, adaptation, prejudice and communication (or lack thereof), centered around one woman trying to keep track of and establish who she is in the eyes of everyone around her; is it even possible for a woman of colour to simply be her, not whatever people (and she herself) projects on her?

"Saying 'the question of race is complicated' is the biggest simplification of all."

At the risk of sounding like a show more character in the novel, there are times when the novel's constant dissection of race becomes almost a little single-minded, and Ifemelu and her blog always getting the last word on it in-story - but then again, I'm one of those who don't have to face it myself, and considering all the other single-minded novels I've read, what's to complain about? Adichie picks and picks and picks at the relationship between her characters, between their images of where they and the others come from and what they are, the different sets of expectations and limitations placed upon people in different contexts, the clash between old images and new, argues her case extremely well, paints a multi-faceted picture both of the things that are said and the things that are pointedly NOT said, and delivers one hell of a novel. This is a novelist reaching her peak, still having reserves to draw on.

Also, the US concept of 'race' really is all-pervasive, isn't it? show less

Americanah tells the story of two young lovers—Ifemelu, who goes to the US and becomes a successful writer, and Obinze who goes to the UK and meets only hardship and struggle—and their reunion when they both eventually return to their native Nigeria. Adichie's prose is pleasurably crisp and she's got a remarkable eye for succinct observation. As a white woman, I obviously don't know what it's like to be a racial minority, but as someone who's a (largely unwilling) immigrant, I could empathise with some of Ifelemu's feelings of being a fish out of water, particularly when she returns to Nigeria—that realisation that your sense of relationship to your national identity has become a little fossilised, because the country has moved on show more in your absence.

Yet as a novel, Americanah didn't quite work for me. Large swathes of it read as if Adichie really wanted to write nonfiction social commentary, but for whatever reason decided to shoehorn it into fictional form. As a result, Ifemelu, Obinze, and the other characters felt as if they'd been created simply to voice certain perspectives or illustrate certain points that Adichie wanted to make. This is particularly the case with the second part of the novel, which veers into a kind of belaboured didacticism at points. show less

I admit: I am a privileged, middle-class, American white girl who often wonders why skin color has such a prominent role in our society. It has always felt like such a superficial way to identify ourselves; to make choices about our lives. After all, we are all part of one species (although I often wonder if teenaged boys can technically be classified as Homo sapiens), and regardless of the pigmentation in your skin, no one person's blood is any redder than another's. With this philosophy ruling my life, reading a book like Americanah was in a word: illuminating. I dove into a world I could never hope to understand given my background, and I came away with a new appreciation for the challenges of establishing an identity.

Because while show more Americanah is billed as a love story - and there is definitely a contemporary romance involved - I felt like this incredible novel was more about the search for identity, and what one ultimately chooses to use as part of their identity. The book does follow the young adult lives of Ifemelu and Obinze, children and teenagers in Nigeria who fall deeply in love while attending college together. Ifemelu has the opportunity to go to America, and though she is ambivalent about the move, Obinze convinces her to go. Obinze, who so desperately wants to go to America himself, and dreams that he will join Ifemelu in the land of opportunity one day.

Ifemelu arrives in the wilds of Philadelphia, and is suddenly hit with a new reality: in this world, where skin color varies from palest white to darkest black, part of your identity is established for you by your skin color. In Nigeria, as Ifemelu herself states, there is no such thing as "being black"; skin color is just not part of a world in which everyone has the same hue. But now, in America, Ifemelu not only faces this concept of "being black," but she also finds the idea is even further divided into "American black" and "non-American black." Astonished, bewildered, and curious about a new approach to identity, Ifemelu's journey through her life in America leads to the start of a successful "race blog" where she chronicles her observations on life as a self-proclaimed "non-American black" and what that means in black America.

Meanwhile, Obinze finishes his schooling in Nigeria and tries to join Ifemelu in America, but is thwarted both by immigration regulations and Ifemelu's sudden severing of contact. Instead he makes his way to London where he tries to establish citizenship through the dark underworld of illegal immigration only to find himself deported back to Nigeria. Lost and heartbroken, Obinze searches out a way to establish himself and his life without Ifemelu.

It is easy to dismiss Americanah as a contemporary romance - two people separated by circumstance who overcome insurmountable obstacles to reunite – but that would be doing this novel a disservice. Ifemelu and Obinze are star-crossed lovers for sure, but they each undertake their own journeys to establish an identity: Ifemelu as a "black" in America, and Obinze as one-half of a lover's whole. And that is the real love story here. I'm about to go all Whitney Houston, but it is the message I walked away with: the greatest love is to love yourself. Both Ifemelu and Obinze have to decide which characteristics they want to use as part of their identities. If and when they do that, then they have the chance for happiness together.

But illumination? As a privileged, middle-class, American white girl? I had no idea, and in so many ways could never hope to have a real solid idea because of my whiteness, how much "being black" is part of the black American consciousness. How deeply entrenched "being black" is in the identity of American blacks (at least according to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie). I mean I don't identify as white. I identify myself as a teacher, an animal lover, a writer, a reader... I never think of myself as white. And I have always wondered why the color of my skin – the color of anyone’s skin – should be part of my identity. Now I understand. Or I should say I am more aware. The distinction in skin color has led to cultural and social division, and if you are “non-white,” then your non-whiteness means more than just additional pigment in your epidermis. It is a part of your culture, your social structures, your background. Your identity. Being white may not necessarily mean anything, but being black, brown, or any other variation of non-white does. Our all-encompassing, welcoming American society has made it so. show less

[Americanah] by [[Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie]]
I finally got around to reading Adichie's 2013 novel that explores the experiences of Nigerian-born Ifemelu and Obinze, and I'm so, so glad I did. Ifemelu and Obinze grow up comfortably upper middle class in Nigeria, but have to contend with the challenges of living in a developing country. When they are in college and the teachers continually go on strike, they begin seriously looking for ways to leave. As a female, Ifemelu is able to get a visa to America to live with her aunt fairly easily. Getting a work visa is not as easy. Obinze, as a male in the post-9/11 world, is unable to legally emigrate. He ends up briefly in London and then back in Nigeria.

Ifemelu is the focus for most of the show more book. She becomes successful in America writing a blog about race. She writes about how she never thought of herself as Black until she came to America - Black doesn't exist in Nigeria. She writes about the differences between Non-American Blacks and American Blacks. Her words are powerful and honest and entertaining - as a good blog should be. I was immediately struck by how her observations line up with [[Isabel Wilkerson]]'s book, [Caste]. Though [Americanah] is a novel, it felt like real life observation of how the American Caste system is implemented and how it affects all of us.

Amidst these observations and experiences with race in America, the UK, and Nigeria, life happens. Ifemelu has various relationships, jobs, and family drama. Through it all, she thinks about Obinze, her first love. When she moves back to Nigeria, the question is whether she and Obinze will still love each other and whether life will allow them to be together.

I really loved this novel. For me, the most successful parts were the revelations about race and the immigrant experience. Also about the different lifestyles in Nigeria, America, and Great Britain. I was less interested in the romance between Ifemelu and Obinze. That took just a little bit of the glow off of this novel for me, but I still highly recommend it. I'll read anything [[Adichie]] writes. I think she's a wonderful writer.

Original publication date: 2013
Author’s nationality: Nigerian and American (dual citizenship, I believe)
Original language: English
Length: 588 pages
Rating: 4.5 stars
Format/where I acquired the book: library kindle
Why I read this: 1001 books, books about Black American experience for category challenge show less

I read this book for the library-sponsored book discussion group that I lead, and as I was reading, I was thinking to myself "however am I going to lead a discussion about this book with a group of middle- and upper-middle class white women without all of us choking on our own hypocrisy?" And I realized that the only possible way was to get that issue out of the way right up front. So we started out our discussion by owning our own perspectives and acknowledging that each of us came to this book with our own set of assumptions.

I'm pleased to report that my tactic of putting it out there allowed us to have a frank and honest conversation about this book, perhaps one of the best book discussions we've had (YMMV). And there's a lot to show more discuss in this book! Adichie does not pull her punches in describing the thoughts of Ifemelu, her main character, on racism and classism and immigrants and love and going home again. Ifemelu has a blog on which she explores many of these issues, and her blog posts punctuate the narrative, creating a different way of sharing her insights than the typical internal monologue. Ifemelu's reflections may provoke you to examine your own beliefs on these topics. I think she would hope so. show less

"Racism should never have happened and so you don't get a cookie for reducing it."

This novel is at its heart a love story – the tale of two Nigerian childhood sweethearts whose lives take different paths when they emigrate to America and England – but it is also a critique of the modern attitudes to race and migration, touching on issues of identity, loss and loneliness.

This is Adichie's third and probably her most ambitious novel. It tells the story of Ifemelu, a spirited young girl with forthright opinions, and her teenage boyfriend, Obinze, who grow up with romanticised notions of the west. When Ifemelu is offered the opportunity to continue her studies in Philadelphia, she takes it. Some years later, Obinze, goes to Britain in show more search of a better life.

In England, Obinze struggles to get hold of an elusive national security number that will enable him to work legally. In America, Ifemelu also finds it difficult to get part-time work whilst her fellow students speak to her as if she cannot comprehend basic English.

It is at this point that Adichie's skill as an author really begins to shine through. She wonderfully evokes the sense of dislocation felt by both characters in two countries with totally different class structures as seen through the eyes of a group of liberal elite. She is particularly good at challenging the reader's assumptions without getting in the way of the story. When Ifemelu buys a vintage 1960s dress on eBay she realises that when the original owner would have worn it, black Americans would not have been allowed to vote.

Eventually, Ifemelu starts blogging about her experiences and becomes successful. The blogposts add an extra dimension to the plot, allowing the reader to see how Ifemelu really sees herself and how she wishes to present herself to the outside world.

Much of the novel is written in flashback split between the two main protagonists and the final section of the book follows Ifemelu's return to Lagos after 15 years in America and her reunion with Obinze who is, by now, a successful businessman and married to someone else. Ifemelu takes up blogging again but this time about Nigerian issues.

I personally felt that there are a few elements that could have been cut and the ending was a bit rushed but overall this is a gripping human story, you can feel Adichie's passion in virtually every paragraph. A very enjoyable read. show less