Americanah

Americanah sets out to do what so much great literature does: tell a great human story with an undercurrent of theory. In this, it is the story of young love in Nigeria separated by emigration of the two protagonists: Ifemelu to America and Obinze to England. They experience the dissonance of being non-nationals and racially other in two contexts while also learning to live and becoming themselves.

Only that doesn't really happen. In both stories, the protagonists are like blank canvases surrounded by caricatures of people who are actually alive but are slightly unbelievable. Our heroes observe those around them and summarise their traits as if human beings all present their entire personalities in one quick gesture or comment. The story is interspersed with blog posts written by Ifemelu that feel like the writing of Ta-Nahesi Coates – sharp, witty and unashamedly Black. The undercurrent of theory thus bubbles up constantly to the surface, sometimes angrily, and always justifiably, and so Adichie manages to put more theory into this work of literature than can be found in many works of theory. This is admirable and educational. So it is a pity that they story falls short.

The final section, the return to their home country of a duo who have changed but have not really grown, is the best written section of the book. It suddenly becomes exciting all too late as the ghosts of a past relationship haunt Obinze's marriage and Ifemelu's independence. Maybe there is something to this too – two lives that cannot escape those waves of theory that always run beneath. Imperfect but important.

This book is several things interleaved.



There's a love story with fairly traditional elements of circumstances coming between the lovers.



There's clearly some autobiography, from an author whose own life gives her plenty of material.



There's a lot of exploration of the dislocation of being an immigrant and the ways in which the assumed community of people from the same place easily falls flat. I identified strongly with a surprising amount of that, given that my circumstances are very different from the characters'.



There's a mourning for Nigeria. Just as with Teju Cole's writing, I see so much of my Turkey in the author's Nigeria.



There's an extended essay about race, racism, and especially how those play out in the USA. This is mostly done very well--if the protagonist's blog were real I'd be a subscriber--but towards the end of the US section it starts to feel like a lecture is intruding on the story.



There's an interesting format experiment in which Adichie basically implements Brecht's ideas about giving away the story before telling it so that suspense doesn't interfere with the other things you're supposed to feel. Only Adichie does this far more deftly than Brecht, so it never detracted from the enjoyment of the story.



It does a surprisingly good job of carrying all these elements, albeit at times feeling a little overloaded. I enjoyed reading it and felt at times like it was really hitting hard.