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| half of a yellow by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie |
Ugwu, a houseboy to Odenigbo, a
university professor, grows in fascination of his master’s evolutionary
ideology. His master’s girlfriend, Olanna, runs away from her family’s wealth
and extravagant life and moves in with her lover in Nsukka teaching Sociology
in the same school as he. Her suave twin, Kainene, takes over their father’s
business and moves to Portharcourt. Kainene’s English lover, Richard, moves to
Nsukka serving as a link between the lives of the no identical twins. We follow
these characters through a Military coup, the Biafran Secession and the
subsequent war. Chimamanda succeeds in weaving these characters through
promises, disappointments and the darkness that marked the time.
The Characters were a good
blend and I had clear pictures of them in my head at the end of the book. The
way the writer described the lives of the Characters before, during and after
the war enables the reader to relate to what they felt.
At first I wondered why
Kainene’s Point of View was not written but in the end I understood, it worked
better the way she wrote it. The back and forth times of the plot had my
suspense piqued. Most writers who write this style fail to achieve it and
usually leave the reader confused.
My problem as always with
Chimamanda is her descriptions; they are sometimes too much in the abstract, in
a way only she can understand. If one is writing for others, then I think the
priority is writing what they can feel and imagine. Here’s an example ‘…she
felt as though she had swallowed a white sparkling light…’ How does one swallow
a white sparkling light. I don’t know how that feels, I don’t feel it, I have
no idea what that means. Another example, ‘…she looked like a ripe cashew
fruit…’ I rest my case.
Half of a Yellow Sun wasn’t
just a novel but a record of history which many of this generation cannot
picture nor can they understand. I have heard censored tales of the war from my
mother, censored because she probably thought the whole story was too gory to
bother me with. I realize that now after reading Half of a Yellow Sun. Most of
the stories I read in its pages came as a shock. After I read the last page, I
closed my eyes and tried to imagine it all, and then I understood. I understood
why the Ibos were making a big deal of Biafra, it all began to make sense.
I admire Chimamanda’s skills in
the way she weaved love stories into a sad-tale of war. I say, well done!
