New Jersey. That's where Americanah begins. Ifemelu, a Nigerian woman, goes to have her hair braided. Whilst having this lengthy procedure (activity? beauty regimen? torture? style?) completed, the third-person narration takes the reader back in time, recalling the journey of how Ifemelu ended up in Princeton, New Jersey.
And it is quite a journey, detailing Ifemelu's home life, her sister-like relationship with her aunt, how she meets her first love Obinze, cultural barriers with a white boyfriend in America and then a black boyfriend in America, obtuse questions from and experiences with sheltered Americans, and her blog.
So much of the heart of this novel concerns race. Ifemelu, once settled in America, creates an anonymous blog entitled Raceteenth. In the blog, she is able to share her observations as a non-American black living in the United States. In fact, these observations were so gripping that on a car ride to Orlando, I brought the novel with me just so I could read the blog portions to my husband (he was driving, there was no escaping). Whenever I reached one of the blog excerpts (located at the ends of some of the chapters), it felt like I had won one of those old-school red decoders. Because Ifemelu's musing were so layered, I felt so much anticipation to reach her often straightforward perceptions that simultaneously maintained the ability to penetrate the reader's mind with poignancy, depth, and the examination of self.
If you are looking for a book that will give you a glimpse into an immigrant's life, if you looking for a book that will make you think, if you are looking for a book that makes you ask questions, if you are looking for a book that pulls no punches when evaluating culture and race, then this is the book for you.
However, the book is not without its flaws. Adichie is very detailed, which makes her writing both beautiful and at times uncomfortably raw. The relationship between the main character Ifemelu and her first love Obinze is the string that binds the tapestry of this story together but I was never convinced that it should be. Ifemelu is unapologetically strong (which I loved) but perhaps true to life, the storyline of her pursuit of Obinze seemed to weaken her personal narrative. I do not believe that the "love story" aspect makes the story any less worth reading, but I would be lying if I said that it did not detract from the bigger themes that Adichie guilelessly articulates. Obviously, relationships between characters usually help to shed light on a certain aspect of a character and Obinze did help Ifemelu become more cognizant of her identity as a Nigerian (so the use of his character is not without purpose), but I felt that the back-and-forth sometimes distracted from Ifemelu's tenacity and message.
I look forward to reading other books by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and hope that her career as a writer continues to encourage profundity in her readers.
