Freedom to Write Lecture
Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie delivers the 2015 PEN World Voices Arthur Miller Freedom to Write Lecture and then participates in a Q&A with Andrew Solomon, who was recently named President of the PEN American Center.
Catch her lecture and the Q & A that follows it this Sunday, June 14 at 7:45pm EDT on C-SPAN 2.
Nnedi Okorafor announced her newest book on Twitter.
I'm in the final editing phase of my forthcoming children's book CHICKEN IN THE KITCHEN. pic.twitter.com/Tm1TCehBDX
The Library of Congress just unveiled this year's poster for the National Book Festival, to be held in Washington, DC on September 5. Since it's Labor Day weekend, it's a perfect time to visit DC and stalk your favorite authors like Walter Mosley, Kwame Alexander, Ellen Oh, Ishamel Reed, Annette Gordon-Reed, Marlon James, Beverly Jenkins, Lalita Tademy and Ha Jin.
Remember how much the streets loved Omar Tyree back in the 90s? When Flyy Girl hit the shelves in 1993, it became must read lit for a whole generation of readers. Personally, I can't remember much about it other than everyone I knew loved it. I low key hold him responsible for the re-emergence of street lit. Anywho, it turns out Sanaa Lathan was a fan of the book back in the day and is working on a film adaptation. Will you check it out?
If you missed the conversation between acclaimed authors Zadie Smith and Chimamanda Adichie, the Schomburg Center has made video available. As always, both authors were witty and charming and their take on American culture as an English Jamaican and Nigerian were interesting and informative.
Amazed at the crowd diversity! (@ St. Louis County Library - Headquarters - @slcl for Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie) http://t.co/uKISYbTgYS
— One who Reads (@Reads4Pleasure) March 11, 2014
I was excited to see so many different races and ethnicities represented. All around me I heard Nigerian accents, a smattering of Ghanian accents, conversations between a group of friends that looked like a mini-United Nations. And while the crowd was extremely heavy on women, there were a number of men there as well.
The crowd was large and the room was small (and hot) and I kept wondering why they'd held the reading in such a tiny space. This was my first time at this particular library, so I don't know if this was the biggest room they offered in their system, but I couldn't help but to wonder why they didn't partner with the city library, which has an enormous auditorium and would have been much better suited to hold the group.
At any rate, hot and sweaty we sat, happy to be there. People asked great questions, Adichie gave great answers and then we moved on to the book signing line. When we first arrived, group numbers were given out. While we were initially told that they would call groups when it was our turn to get in line, that never happened. I think they were overwhelmed by the sheer number of people there and gave up on that system, so it ended up with everyone standing in line all at once.
At some point I ended up in front of the bookseller's table. I noticed that he no longer had any books left and asked if they were just packed up for the night or if they were sold out. He remarked that they were sold out and that he'd never seen anything like it. He compared the rate that they sold with another bestselling author's recent event and seemed surprised that they'd done so well. Before I could ask why he wouldn't think Adichie would do as well, I was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious woman behind me that raved about all of the African writers she'd "discovered" this year and how she'd be happy to recommend some to the bookseller, as he'd never read her before. Okay then, Columbus.
And this is the problem I have with book stores, in general, but especially with this indie book store that partners with the libraries here regularly and sponsors in-house readings as well. They don't know about authors that don't fit into their world and make no effort to find out. They're not necessarily welcoming places for readers that don't look like them. I've been followed to the basement where the used book section is so many times I can't remember. Who in the hell is stealing books? And in all of the years that I've frequented both of their locations, I've yet to see someone that isn't white working as a bookseller.
Their author recommendations are almost always unabashedly white, unless it's a New York Times bestseller, then they manage to find a space on the shelf. When I walk into the store, I know exactly what I'm looking for, but if I didn't, could they really assist me? Could they recommend the new Kiese Laymon or Tayari Jones? Hell, do they even know who they are? I'm sure they could show me the Toni Morrison or Maya Angelou section, but I expect more from an indie book store that claims not to follow the same guidelines as a big box store like Barnes & Noble.
There's a whole group of readers stores like this are missing out on because it never even dawns on them to reach out to them. I know one thing, they'll do their homework next time, and perhaps the library will too, and move the next "black" author to a venue worthy of their stature and crowd size...I hope.
Acclaimed author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie stopped in St. Louis on tour to promote the paperback edition of last year's top seller, Americanah. She was witty and personable and I tried to capture as much of the audience Q & A as possible. Enjoy! On Americanah Americanah is not her story. It's a combination of things that have happened to her and others and stories she's heard. Writers write about the life they wish they had versus the life they have. Her experience coming to the U.S. was much milder and easier than Ifemelu's. Why does Ifemelu have to see the ceiling?(This was a little embarrassing because it was asked by an older lady who quite obviously didn't understand what the ceiling represented and Adichie looked to be at a loss for words to explain it without being offensive.)
She doesn't. When she's with Obinze she doesn't because she's so transported, the ceiling doesn't exist. With others, it does.
Was Ifemelu indifferent to religion on purpose? Yes. Pentecostalism is taking over Nigeria. Religion interests her very much.
Thoughts on Nigeria and the U.S. When you go back to Nigeria, do you feel like an observer like in the U.S.?
Yes, but because she's a storyteller, not because she's lived in the U.S. As a child, she always watched everything, slightly removed and watching. A writer is always looking for material. Adichie came to the U.S as someone who had consumed a lot of American culture. She thought all black people lived like the Cosbys. The reality was surprising. The discovery of poverty was shocking. Neighborhoods were not only poor, but forgotten. Rich and poor coexist in Nigeria.
What would you say to someone with a culture that comes to the U.S. and tries to retain the culture, but gains a new one, and still respect your parents?
You can be both, respect both. It's important to know you're not going to live your life for them.
Anti gay law in Nigeria Have you gotten blow back from article you wrote? (Refers to the article "Why Can't He Just Be Like Everyone Else?")
Yes. When it became law, she was horrified by it. Felt she couldn't not speak. She's gotten a lot of feedback ranging from people saying she's possessed by demons or will lose Nigerian love. Some people have told her she's no longer their role model, and she really doesn't want to be. There's a sadness about the law. The way it's been talked about removes the idea of humanity. It's like they're talking about animals. Adichie wants to engage her generation because it's possible to change a few minds. She believes people need to think of it in terms of humanity and compassion. The mix of religion and politicizing homophobia exacerbates the problem. Mostly poor people have been arrested. So troubling and so sad. So yes, she's gotten a lot of blow back, but she would write the article again today. Hair & weaves
As much as Americanah is about race, it's also about hair. It seems that people deliberately misunderstood her comments about hair in interviews. She didn't say people who wear weaves have low self-esteem. Her sister wears weave and has the most self-esteem of anyone she knows. There's a lot about black women's hair that's not just hair. She's starting to write practical things about hair. People want to wear it naturally and don't know how. As a child, she couldn't wait to straighten it. There's a growing movement in Nigeria of returnees (e.g., people who left Nigeria to live abroad and have returned home) going natural. It's not a question of being against weaves, but it's about having our own hair as an option. The idea of hair as not just hair has significance. If Michelle Obama had gone natural during the campaign, someone at Fox News would have said she was a Black Panther.
Chillin' with Chimamanda
Race
Race was something she really discovered in America. She didn't think of herself as black in Nigeria. In Nigeria, they're steeped in ethnicity and class or religion, but not race. Intellectually, she knew about race, but it was a different thing to move the U.S. and be black. It was disturbing to find all of the negativity associated with being black, so for awhile, she didn't want to be thought of as black because of that. It's an indictment of what race means in America. There's something dangerous about thinking American blackness is an attitude. There are many different ways of being black. Everyone experiences being black differently.
When you came here for college, did you feel pressure to conform the way you spoke and did you notice distinct cultural differences?
Adichie used to fake an American accent because Americans act as if accented speakers are slow. Within a few months, she started using the fake accent because it made it easier. One day she decided she was done. She realized how much effort it took and wanted to save that energy for other things. The accent is also about power. Americans going to Nigeria speak with an accent and aren't expected to conform because they're perfectly understood.
What do you think about slang in African American culture in comparison to the accent?
Adichie has friends that would object to it being called slang. The whole idea of code switching is something we all do. She still does it when she goes home to Nigeria. "The idea of having a language of love, friendship, family, I quite like that." And code switching happens in the U.S. with race and class.
Beyonce's ***Flawless and feminism Has it lived up to your purpose?
I think anything that gets young women thinking about labeling themselves as feminist is a good thing. It's empowering.
You're married, but you keep your maiden name, which is non-traditional, why? (Originally the author said, "next question," but came back to this after she'd answered another question, but she was visibly annoyed by the question.)
I don't like to talk about my personal life. It's an offensive gender question. If I was a man, no one would ask. I occupy this space because I'm a writer, not a woman. The idea of calling it a maiden name, it's my name. People are getting married later in life. You have your degrees and suddenly you get married and have to change your name. There are conversations about gender that I want to have, particularly with African woman. People shouldn't decide for you what you should be called. I think that's bullshit.
Miscellaneous Would you add anything to the Danger of a Single Story TED talk?
She would take out the part where she emphasizes how we are more different than alike because people misinterpreted it to think it means different doesn't matter, but it does.
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She's not a United States citizen, but she hopes Hillary (Clinton) runs and will volunteer and campaign for her if she does.
I began stalking her publisher back in October when I learned that a new book by Adichie was coming out in May. Seriously, I checked her publisher's list of available ARCs daily. Then came the day in February that it was finally available. I downloaded quickly, started reading it and stopped. It was good, really good, but I was afraid to read it too quickly because once I was done with it, I knew it would be another three years or so before I got another book from her. So I read it slowly over three months and savored every word in it.
Adichie's books are long, not in an agonizing, I can't wait for this book to be over way, but in such a way that you almost feel as if you're getting two books for the price of one. She has a lot to say and a lot to cover and Americanah is no exception.
First there's the complicated relationship with Obinze, the love of her life, who she calls Ceiling because when she was with him, "My eyes were open, but I didn't not see the ceiling." With him, Ifemelu feels natural, more like herself than when she's with anyone else. And I feel like Obinze feels the same way about her. At one point he notes that while his wife takes pleasure in being mistaken for being biracial, Ifemelu takes pleasure in her natural hair. As we follow the course of Obinze and Ifemelu's relationship from Nigeria to England and the U.S., you want to root for them, but at the same time, it's interesting to watch how poorly they fare when separated in comparison to how well they do together.
Adichie also explores how the stress of immigrating to another country can take a toll on a person. We see it in Ifemelu's Aunt Uju, her cousin Dike, Obinze and in Ifemelu, herself. Bit by bit, each of them loses a little bit of their soul as they attempt to fit in and find their place in their new countries. Even Dike, who immigrated as a small child and is more Americanized than Uju and Ifemelu, has difficulty adjusting in the long run.
To me, the most fascinating parts of the book reflect on race in America. Adichie makes a point that I never really gave any thought. She talks about how in Nigeria, people don't seem themselves as black because everyone is black. There is no room for otherization when everyone looks like you. It wasn't until arriving in America that she became black.
Approaching the discussion of race as a non-American black is eye opening because the history of race in the U.S. and the baggage it brings does not belong to them. On the flip side, because they do not have that baggage, Ifemelu notes the things they should be offended by, but aren't, because they have no idea why they should be (e.g., watermelon/fried chicken comments, tar baby, strong black woman, etc.). Through Ifemelu's blog, Raceteenth or Various Observations About American Blacks (Those Formerly Known as Negroes), and her interactions with classmates, friends and acquaintances, Adichie hits on some aha moments and quite a few ouch points. Highlights include those that are quick to claim Indian heritage and the preference of some men for "exotic" women. Non-American blacks aren't let off the hook either as Ifemelu points out in a blog post about how they sometimes are quick to point out that they're not black, claiming instead their country or island, as in "I'm not black, I'm Jamaican." Ifemelu notes that they say this because they know black is at the bottom of America's race ladder and they want no parts of it. If there was a racial draft, blacks would be the Charlie Brown of the bunch.
Adichie places Ifemelu in three relationships (with fellow Nigerian, Obinze; white American, Curt; and black American, Blaine), highlighting the difficulties in intercultural, interracial, interclass relationships. It would seem that the intercultural differences were the biggest factor to overcome and that plays out in her relationship with Blaine that takes place leading up the election of President Obama. Again, Ifemelu doesn't have the history and baggage of being black in America. And though she can understand and is excited about the possibility of Obama being elected, and it temporarily reignites their relationship, there's a wedge driven between her and Blaine when she fails to participate in campus rallies leading up to the election; instead seeking out other non-American blacks. Does Adichie point out these differences to say people of different cultures, races or classes shouldn't mix? No, but I think she's far most realistic about how difficult it can be to overcome the challenges that come with it.
So, long book, a lot of ground to cover, but it's so worth it. For those that have read Purple Hibiscus or Half of A Yellow Sun, this is not that. This is something a little different, but just as eye opening as anything else Adichie has written or spoken about. Take your time and savor it.
496pp
Published: May 2013 Disclaimer: Copy of book received from publisher, opinions are my own.
Set in the late 1960s, Half of a Yellow Sun looks at southeastern Nigeria before, during and after the Biafran war. Through the eyes of Ugwu, a 13 year old houseboy; Odenigbo, a university professor; and Olanna, the professor's fiancee', readers are given an up close glimpse of the affects of war. To a lesser degree, we see them through the eyes of Kainene, Olanna's twin sister, and Richard, an English writer who's in love with Kainene.
When Nigeria's, which gained its independence from Britain in 1960, boundaries were initially created, Great Britain failed to take into account the 300 different cultural and ethnic groups comprised of 60 million people. It was almost inevitable that groups would clash. For economic reasons and cultural, ethnic and religious tensions, the mostly Igbo inhabited, oil rich area of southeastern Nigeria chose to secede and create their own state of Biafra. The result of this secession was the Nigerian-Biafran war.
While Odenigbo is most involved in the call for revolution, backed by Olanna, it is really Ugwu that observes and notes the changes that the household goes through over the course of three years. He serves as a witness to Odenigbo's gatherings of other intellectuals to discuss the state of Nigeria. He witnesses the arrival of Baby in an already tumultuous household. And he serves in the Biafran army, giving a firsthand account of the atrocities of war.
As a British expatriate, Richard stays in Nigeria to do research for a book and because of Kainene. Though Olanna is seen as the beautiful and intelligent twin, Kainene is the ambitious and business savvy twin. Richard loves her direct way of speaking and falls hard for the sharp-tongued woman. To a degree, their lives are less affected by the war, but affected nonetheless.
Through her writing, Adichie portrays every facet of emotion in her characters. From the fall and rise of Odenigbo to the meltdown of the long suffering Olanna, the new found humanity of Kainene and the steadfastness of Ugwu, Half of a Yellow Sun is not just the story of Biafra, it's the story of her people.
448pp
Listening time: 19 hours
Published: September 2006
I come late to her fan club, but Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's work is truly worthy of all the accolades it receives. In Purple Hibiscus, she skillfully combines a coming of age story with a military coup and domestic abuse. Each of these topics could have been difficult to handle, but Adichie manages to write about each of them in a way that doesn't overwhelm the reader.
Fifteen year old Kambili and her older brother, Jaja, live a good life in Enugu, Nigeria. Their father, Eugene, is a big man, meaning wealthy and well-connected, so they enjoy privileges that their classmates and friends do not. But because their father is a big man, no one suspects that he rules his family with an iron fist in the name of religion. So strict in his faith is Eugene, that has renounced his own father, who has not converted to Catholicism, and limits the children's time with him to 15 minutes during the Christmas holiday.
It's not until Kambili and Jaja get to visit their Aunt Ifeoma and cousins that they learn that everyone does not live by a daily schedule. Every aspect of their lives, from the time they wake up until they go to bed is dictated by schedules their father has created for them. In Aunt Ifeoma's house, children are encouraged to have a voice and actually use it. At home, speaking out of turn or acting independently without guidance from their father is a cause for immediate disciplinary action. In Aunt Ifeoma's home, there is laughter and open emotion, things that have been stifled in Kambili and Jaja's home.
At one point, Eugene boasts that his Kambili and Jaja are “not like those loud children people are raising these days, with no home training and no fear of God;” to which Ade Coker replies: “Imagine what the standard would be if we were all quiet.” This conversation really hit on so many things for me. The children and their mother's silence has enabled Eugene to keep them living in constant fear of his punishment, should one of them step out of line. The voices of the students and faculty at the university where Aunty Ifeoma teaches have been raised, resulting in a military coup and the persecution of those that have spoken up.
Forced to leave Nigeria as a result of the coup, Aunty Ifeoma moves to the United States to teach. Though her daughter, Amaka, always saw the U.S. as the promised land, she soon begins to believe that though times were sometimes hard in Nigeria, there was a freer sense of self and others there than in her new home.
“There has never been a power outage and hot water runs from a tap, but we don’t laugh anymore . . . because we no longer have the time to laugh, because we don’t even see one another.”
By the end of this book, I was drained. While I was hoping for a happy ending, instead I got a,, "okay, this is life, make the best of it" ending. And I'm okay with that. I just wanted better for characters that I became deeply invested in during the course of my listening.
I do have to point out that I didn't care for the narrator's voice, so I was tempted to stop listening and read the book instead. The problem I had with it is the story is told from the point of view of Kambili, a fifteen year old Igbo girl from Nigeria. The narrator was significantly older and sounded nothing like I would imagine Kambili to sound. I was so thrown by her voice that I actually looked her up. I understand that she's narrated several of the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency books, but since I've never listened to them, I wasn't familiar with her voice. Much like I like my female characters voiced by women and not men, I like my characters to sound more like the actual character than a distinctly older person.
307pp
Listening time: 11 hours
Published: October 2003
