I love lists, but I've never been too enthused about those ubiquitous "Summer Reading Lists" that pop up every year. (What is the point of those? To whom are they pertinent? Are there really people who loll around on beaches/yachts/international flights/vineyard terraces and read curated stacks of books from June straight through to Labor Day? Am I just hanging out with the wrong echelon of folks? So many questions! Damn you, "Summer Reading Lists," for filling me with such uncertainty!)
If, like me, you read what you can during whatever scrap of time you can scrounge, let this be the book: Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
I just finished it and my mind is abuzz. The book follows Ifemelu, a young Nigerian woman who travels to America in search of education and something more elusive — not anything as trite as the "American dream," because she's too complex for that. I'd call it a "coming-of-age story," but angsty young white writers have long-since claimed that category. But then, there I go, sounding like Ifemelu, for whom the subjects of race, culture and identity become all-consuming.
When I was half-way through, I read a blurb that described it as a love story and I wish I hadn't. That seemed like a lazy label and I didn't want to box the story in like that. To tell the truth, romance is not what I initially focused on at all. I was more wrapped up in Adichie's enviable powers of description — the way she captures the nuances of everything from a run-down braiding salon to an overwhelmingly bougie dinner party. So sharp, so relatable (especially in contrast to the last hazy, crazy book I read). I lapped up Adichie's words and read some passages several times in a row, feeling not a little bit envious. I kept thinking, 'I want to write like her. I want her to write like this about me. I don't want this to end. I definitely don't want this to be made into a movie.'
Though I'd ultimately give the book a B+ (For reasons I won't clarify, for fear of ruining it for future readers...which should include you), it was the kind of book that had me dog-earing pages, talking out loud to the author and wishing I was part of a book club.
Have you read it? What did you think? Sound off in the comments section…
CONTAINS SPOILERS: Earlier comments: When we were about halfway through the book, (around the time that Curt's sexy, rich white ass gets introduced) you joked that if this were going to go through the Hollywood book to screen treatment that Lupita would not be the right casting for Ifemelu and that Ryan Gosling would be the obvious choice for Curt. Still agree with that. But while I was reading this and I tried to imagine Ryan Gosling with a suitable casting for Ifemelu, I kept coming up blank and just letting her amazing writing create the solid beauty of Ifemelu from Nigeria to Philly to New Haven.
ReplyDeleteThis isn't anything new, but there is a potential for amazing, far more interesting stories to be told on the big screen and one of the road blocks is a lack of adequate people who can portray the story and in a sea of reboots and YA adaptations, I wonder why we can't challenge ourselves to a higher quality and outgrow young adult stories?
So many novels' treatment of technology annoys me, A Visit From the Goon Squad, (Jennifer Egan), comes to mind. It used technology as a novelty and it distracted from the story. It was very goony indeed. Here, it was organic and clever to show the reader her further insights without the artifice of additional exposition to justify it. A blog was integral to her plot, therefore it made sense and it was very true to the feeling of discovering a new favorite blog that is highly buzzed about.
Lately I've read several books that have been major bummers, and it was a sweet relief that the early couple somehow live their life apart and experience heart break and joy outside of their relationship and ultimately discover each other again.
Their break-up was very realistic to me. On the one hand, there are these expectations and this pressure on Ifemelu on behalf of her family, her Aunty Uju, Obinze and his mother, whom she respects and adores, and as mature and educated as she is, she is young when she is out of money and all alone, desperate in a foreign culture.
When she accepts the job with the Coach, I think the betrayal to herself is compounded with shame and it's too overwhelming for her to share with Obinze and she sacrifices him, rather than further humiliate herself and possibly lose his respect. It's that fear of what he will think of her and how will he react that ultimately breaks their communication and alters their lives and their perceptions of Americaness.
I mentioned to you that I loved that Ifemelu's character is truly fearless in a way that a female literary character hasn't been written before - or at least, not in anything that I have read. Ifemelu is liberated and independent woman and takes control of her life in every situation. It's high-lighted in contrast to her romantic partners, because Ifemelu challenged both Curt and Blaine and set out to be an active and equal peer emotionally, intellectually and sexually.
And the last line. Oh, man! Take me back to 1992, Camerone Crowe and Campbell Scott opening the door to Kyra Sedgwick!
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0105415/quotes?item=qt1052341
The last line gave me *too much* of that "fold into each other and our dysfunctional relationship" '90s-flick standard!
DeleteBut I guess I ultimately appreciate how frustrated I got with Ifem in the latter chapters of the book (the ending included). She started off having a kind of clarity that I found refreshing for such a young character. I loved all her observations and her independence and openness and even related to her confusion. But then, as she approached what I guess is "my age," after she moved back to Nigeria, I started getting really irritated by her attitude. She seemed more flippant, detached and random, plus, really callous in the face of Obinze's sincerity. It ticked me off. But then I realized that was just one part of this really well-rounded character that Adichie had created. It's just that she seemed to front-load her with all of the admirable, relatable qualities and we didn't get the more troubling aspects until later. (I might have preferred for them to be more evenly distributed, but I guess people can be pretty unbalanced IRL like that, too.)
I liked the way the blogging was handled, too, but I think my rather literal, structure-loving mind would've preferred for them to flow a little bit more linearly. I don't necessarily mean I wanted them to help tell the story (a la, "Where'd You Go, Bernadette?"), but I did stumble a bit sometimes when the story was going along at a great pace and then an unrelated blog post would be plopped at the chapter's end.
As I was reading, I started thinking that part of what I loved so much about Ifem's story was how I, personally, related to the story as an East Coaster. I didn't even know that many African-born folks while growing up (though there were many firmly-entrenched communities in D.C.), but I felt like I "got" a lot of the book on many more levels than I imagine others might have. (I felt that same unfounded sense of "ownership" with Colson Whitehead's "Sag Harbor.") Not just the on-point way she described the black bourgeoise — of which I grew up a part — but just all of the flavors of that whole Maryland-and-up region...she nailed it.
You mentioned the Coach and I thought that passage could've been an entire story unto itself. It kind of gave me "Dirty Pretty Things" flashbacks. I'm glad it wasn't, though, because it would've probably lapsed into one of those pity-filled bummer stories that you mentioned. Still, I think Aidchie could've written, at the very least, a killer short story rooted in it.
As far as casting...despite my not wanting to see this made into a movie, I immediately envisioned David Oyelowo for Obinze. That was kind of a no-brainer for me, as was Jada Pinkett as Shan. I blanked on Blaine, though. Maybe Nate Parker? (Though, he's a bit too action-figure-y.) The funniest thing of all? From the very beginning, I kept hearing the no-nonsense voice of Korto from Project Runway narrating as Ifem. I don't even know why! I could never visualize the character, though. It's pretty lame, though, that my mind automatically goes to casting when I'm reading a book; it distracts me from fully appreciating the "book experience," you know?