Americanah 5⭐️/5

Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

5⭐️/5

I’m so glad I finally read this book. It was originally published in 2013, but it remains a fascinating examination of identity, both racial and national, americanization, education, what it means to be “home,” and finding your way back to yourself.

Though Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie centers her story around star-crossed lovers and former-flames, Ifemelu and Obinze, she spends the first half of the book with each respective character as they leave Nigeria and separately navigate what it means to be Black in America and the UK, while still holding on to their Nigerian identity.

I enjoyed Adichie’s writing and storytelling. It’s part coming-of-age tale, part love story, part exploration of self. This is a book that feels deeply, it’s lyrical and sharp, but at its core, it’s a gripping human story.

In general, a book of essays doesn’t have the same allure as a novel, and though this isn’t a collection of essays of Adichie’s experience, the novel is structured with blog posts that function like vignettes. Ifemelu’s blog, “Raceteenth or Various Observations About American Blacks (Those Formerly Known as Negroes) by a Non-American Black,” functions as our lens into the cultural differences between Nigeria and America. Her blog posts, like this novel, are unafraid to tackle taboo subjects or sardonic observations.

These blog posts, though, contribute to a much richer (and longer) text. I think the complaints about the book’s length are grounded in a 21st century expectation for pure entertainment. If it isn’t relatable or it’s slightly uncomfortable, it can’t also be funny and engaging. If the main character isn’t instantly likable, the story she tells must be invalid.

Or, if “the plot ultimately feels like an excuse for the venting of opinions” as one NYT reviewer put it in 2013, then it must just be the author’s excuse to be negative or “preachy,” rather than highlighting difficult truths or confronting disruptive opinions about race, identity, and immigration.

Ifemelu isn’t afraid to confront those truths in her blog or in her life, “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.” Ifemelu both breaks and follows the rules she lays out in this biting observation, and Adichie’s intensity and storytelling create a narrative that draws you in.

This book isn’t about losing yourself, it’s about being found. It’s more than a romance or a sociological, observational study, it’s ripe with humor and irreverent observations. Adichie’s writing is witty, confident, and thought-provoking.

Highly recommend!