Last Friday, I finished Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. This was a book I purchased from Barnes & Noble online because it was like 5 bucks. And I was intrigued because the author is Igbo (like me!). It was interesting to learn her background as Nigerian-raised and educated, but that she had further college-level work in the U.S., so there was an awareness of both worlds.

The book was fascinating because it depicted a Nigeria I’m not particularly familiar with, e.g., people who live in cities and have electricity (sort of) and running water (only a few). My relatives largely live in villages without those two conveniences of modern life and with a well and a generator, we make life in the village somewhat “normal” by Western standards.

The story itself - a sort of coming of age story of a very sheltered teenager - is interesting more because its perspective is unusual. There just aren’t that many books that reach our shores about Nigerian teenagers. Here, fifteen year old Kambili lives under a strict and abusive father who is generous with the Catholic Church and community. The result is that he is a well-regarded benefactor for the church and considered one of the most important men in town, not only for the food he gives at Christmas, but also because he runs the one newspaper that is willing to criticize the government. Yet at home, he is somewhat of a tyrant, demanding perfection from his children in every aspect of their lives (school, schedules, worship, dialogue at the dinner table), punishing what seems to be even the slightest deviation.

The book is written well from Kambili’s perspective - she knows what a sheltered fifteen year old would know and as she starts thinking new things, the reader is brought along the journey with her. There is some fairly well-worn coming-of-age ground here - shy, sheltered girl mistaken for a snob; traumatic domestic situation that appears normal to outsiders; a little rebellion; etc. The story is redeemed, though, because the characters are realistically drawn (even though set in an unfamiliar land) and behave and react and make choices that are so believable even when heartbreaking.