Americanah

<<This review is first posted on my Goodreads profile here>>

Nigeria has fascinated me for the past few years, thanks to Adichie, The other two books of hers have interested me greatly, and I was glad to discover a different side to Nigeria, the one that is intelligent, rich and prosperous, not the one we are otherwise used to knowing, full of princes wanting to give us money over the internet or the one that we generally put in the same category that we reserve to African countries … that place in our heads that’s reserved for some pity, some shudder and a sigh at a lost continent.

This books does everything to keep up the image of Nigeria Adichie built in my mind so far. I like that fact that the main protagonists in this book are intelligent, well-educated and have normal childhoods. I like the fact that their parents are also educated and are working class. I like it that the children have gone to regular schools and have had rich classmates like the most of us. It makes me feel good, safe that in a land far, far away, people have lived happily, untouched from war, dread and terrorism. It appeals to the optimist in me. I like it a lot.

I love it that the characters are so well etched. That they long to leave their country in search of better lives and have the American dream. It makes me feel that youth has same aspirations no matter where they were born - a dream to travel far away and make something of themselves. It makes me believe that no matter what color we are, we are all the same somewhere deep within. The experiences each of the characters have during their time away from Nigeria are so similar to the experiences immigrants from any country have, like some of them from the lives of people we'd have known. Especially the pandering for the American visa or working odd jobs to fill the stomach, or making it big with blogs or finding someone to marry you so you can get the passport. And the longing for home. This made the book very personal to me, that fact that people everywhere have the same immigrant troubles.

I love the narration of this book. I like the fact that I already know what Ifemulu and Obinze have been up to in their lives till the point of narration. I like how each incident in their past lives unravels itself as they are living their present lives… busy getting their hair done, or closing some business deals or visiting their friends. I like it that narration is honest and brazen, true to the characters of the main protagonists. I liked the imaginary lives I've built for both Ifem and The Zed, and they looked very beautiful to me in it, living their prosperous lives not thinking of each other, and slowly leaning towards each other.

This book is a story of two people who never really stopped loving each other. It’s a story of two people who are not together because the Universe didn’t let them be together, and its not either one's fault. It’s a story where instead of pining for each other forever, they carry on with their lives and lead fulfilling lives. It’s a story of hope and nostalgia, appealing to the romantic in me.

It’s a story of how strong or weak women can be, examples of each facet in one of the various characters, be it Aunty Uju or Obinze's mom or Ranyi or Giniko or Kim or Kosi. It appeals to the feminist in me, because Ifem is a strong character, and goes about doing everything she wants, goes out with anyone who fancies her and lives a full life. Yes, she pines for the great love of her life, but she doesn’t let that stop her from living. I like it that Obinze lives a full life but pines for Ifem very strongly, even when he is with her. His strong, calm nature adds to the allure and aura created around him... Who doesn’t like a strong, brooding man pining for a lady love, tell me? :-)

As the book was ending, and I was reading some of the best lines I've ever read about two people being in love, I wanted the book to last. The passion the protagonists feel for each other, the various ways in which they miss each other and the things they do to remember the other person are crazily normal, yet surreal, reminding you of the love they feel for each other , every minute.

And that’s when I realized I was in love. With this book. With Adichie, especially if as the claims go, Ifem is based on her. With the gift of reading for having brought me to this book. And with world, in general for having brought such beautiful books into being. Oh yes, am in love! :)

And I really wish someone made a movie out of this book, for the sheer joy of seeing such strong passion on screen!

The story of nesting

I think nesting is in our genes. We, as women, are genetically inclined to nest. To create a nice, cozy home where we can fuss around with our family and friends. There is something incredibly relaxing about returning home and putting your feet up on your couch. It is extremely fulfilling to whip up meals for your near and dear amidst friendly banter. And it is contentment you feel as you relax in your favorite spot with a book in hand or sit in your balcony with a cup of tea or a drink in hand.

The mere fact that I feel all the above makes me feel that I am indeed a woman. I like all the above things. I like my space to be all the above. And that’s when it becomes home for me. And home is the most comfortable place for me.

It is one of the primal needs for a human, according to me. Food, Sex and Home are the most important things that drive many of our behaviors and it’s the way its evolution intended it to be. Good so far.

It’s the rest of the stuff that comes with nesting that I don’t get.

A wise man once told me that settling down is for rocks. As I listened to him utter those words and shrug nonchalantly is when I realized that he spoke my mind, something that I had never realized I actually felt. Settling down feels scary. Settling down reminds me that I am committed. Settling down means I have a chance to become complacent. Settling down might mean I might not push my boundaries. Settling down , or rather the fear of settling down has been a very important fear/emotion/feeling for major part of my adulthood, driving most of my decisions. As much as I like home , calm and peace, I have never been able to imagine myself settling down. Anywhere. I’ve always been the person who enjoys the moment as it is and keeps reminding herself that this is not permanent and that I shouldn’t fall in love or be afraid of the moment. At least, I try. And oh yes, I married the wise man. That’s the only kind of long term commitment I’ve allowed myself to get into, getting married, that is.

Accumulating stuff. Now this is something related to settling down for me. Makes me feel like I am committed to something. Something I might not be able to change. A fear of loving all these material possessions. And having to move with it all. What would I do if it doesn’t fit the back of my car? From the 22yr old who carried all her possessions in two duffel bags and moved to a strange new city to the 25 yr old who had to pack all her possessions in a suitcase to move to her marital home to the 30 yr old who gave away all her favorite books to move to her ‘dream’ house to the 33 yr old who wanted to shake up that dream , the goal had been to not accumulate stuff - Stuff that I don’t need to function in my daily life, with all its luxury. Stuff that has no utility value and exists only for aesthetics, or the stuff that I love so much that I shudder to imagine existence without it, or stuff that I am scared others will damage.

The fear had always been that I’d be tied down to the stuff and I wouldn’t be able to move ahead. Where ahead, I don’t know myself. Don’t ask me. Now, this is the fear that’s been driving most of my life decisions.

From the person who never wanted to even buy a dining table because it felt ‘sooo married’ , I’ve accumulated a lot of stuff, thankfully, all of it dispensable. And that is going to be the goal, at least till I find the next thing that I fear the most! Or value the most. Whichever way you look at it!

Now, don’t ask me how many clothes or bags or shoes I have. That’s for looking good. That’s for myself. Not for the world! :)

That first moment in love…

Can you remember it? The first moment you realized you were in love? Think about it for a moment. Just humor me.

Did you smile to yourself? Did you wish you could relive the moment? Did you just do that little trip down the memory lane? It is a beautiful trip, isn’t it?

That first instance when you realized you love the person you are with. And that its not just like, and you want to be with that person more, may be a lifetime. And you more than just like everything about that person.

There is something about this feeling that warms the heart, no?

That instant when he peered at you through the mesh of his long fingers sheepishly . Or the moment you saw the moon and him in the same frame and thought , this is it. Or when you lean on to him in a moving train and look at the moon together , and sing songs familiar to you?

Yeah, I cherish those moments. They make living fun. :-D

Writer’s block and what not…

Oh, what a joy it is to finish reading a book you've loved. And yet, what a pain it causes in your heart at having finished it. A deep, numbing pain, and a wish that the book has a sequel . Or may be there are some pages of it left unread somewhere. And the hope you have as you are nearing the end, hoping it doesn’t end, hoping all goes well with the characters you've so grown to love and hoping that there is some more, just a little more.

Yes, I am still in the hangover of this feeling. I just finished reading a book I thoroughly enjoyed and felt, and as I hit the 100% mark, I felt the longing and the wish that there was some more of the book. I wanted to share it somewhere. The husband understands perfectly how I feel , the passionate reader that he is, but I wanted it to be some place more permanent. And that’s when I realized I have a blog, a place I love yet something I've neglected a lot in the past few months. A place which I've stopped visiting myself because I felt bad at having neglected it. Writer's block, you see. :-)

But if I didn’t write now, after having gone through an emotional upheaval and not expressed it here, I figured I would never return to writing, a love more than a hobby of mine of sorts.

I've been good. Life's been good, and I've been jolly with it. The same old stuff that I'd say to a friend I haven't spoken to , in years. But here I can be honest, can't I? :-)

So here it is. I've been jolly. Life's been good. And this probably is the most fun I am having since I can ever remember. And I can only remember fun times, except when I am feeling melancholic and digging deep into the memory troves for something that will be make me sad. Oh, there are quite a few of those. Things that make me sad with regret. Or those that make me sad with nostalgia over times that were very good. Or people that I love but don’t talk to any more for some unknown reason. But I stay to this statement - this is the most fun I've had in a long time.

Growing old feels good. I haven't still figured out what clothes look good on me, or how to make my hair behave all the time. Or what shoes to pair with what clothes. But this realization has made me feel calm, and accepting of my my-ness. The small town girl who never figured out how some of this stuff works. And that I like. But yeah, most times I wish I knew what to pair with those electric blue colored peep toes that I bought on an impulse. The feeling passes off in a while, and I safely return to my safe old pair of jeans, and slippers.

So yeah, growing old feels good. I don’t have to impress anyone with my looks, coz I know I am smarter than the way I look. And that realization is what I like. I know what I like in food now, what kind of alcohol I prefer and what I will do if there is no one around me. I have grown lazier , and I like it that people around me don’t complain about it. I have grown more stubborn , and I realize I have to work on it. I have begun to understand my strengths , especially at work, and I know I don’t use them all the time. And I am comfortable in this knowledge. All of it.

I realized that I am a butterfly when it comes to hobbies and they keep changing. This realization made me feel oddly comfortable. Now I don’t have to berate myself at not having blogged more at my Food blog, or not having cooked more for friends or not pursuing that knitting hobby.

Weekends are fun. No single weekend passes the way I intend it to pass, and I like it. The husband and I talk often about how much we wanted our weekends to be like how they are now, and we are glad that we are living it now.

Weekdays are fun too. I like what I do. Strangely enough, I wait for Mondays on most days, and ask myself what I've been doing all along before this, and why I have postponed having fun so long. Yeah, I like the work I do, the people I work with and the stuff I do when am not working at work.

It's not all as rosy as I project it to be. No one's life is. But I choose to overlook the not-so-rosy parts.. There is nothing that a little bit of good company , some optimism and some detachment can’t cure. For everything else, there is always my purple couch!

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