Half of a Yellow Sun
In 1960s Nigeria, Ugwu, a boy from a poor village, goes to work for Odenigbo, a radical university professor. Soon they are joined by Olanna, a young woman who has abandoned a life of privilege to live with her charismatic lover. Into their world comes Richard, an English writer, who has fallen for Olanna s sharp-tongued sister Kainene. But when the shocking horror of civil war engulfs the nation, their loves and loyalties are severely tested, while their lives pull apart and collide once again in ways none of them could have imagined...
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Community Reviews
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s writing touched a nerve in me when I first read “Americanah” so many years ago. Her storytelling in that novel hit too close to home. A too bitter reminder of the realities I have known as a Nigerian-born Black American. I have consciously avoided her books until now; when the overwhelming oppressiveness of a clown administration reminded me I was “other.” Though “Half of a Yellow Sun” precedes “Americanah,” I only discovered it recently when I decided to dip back into Adichie’s catalog.
This book being called masterfully written is a clichéd understatement. The prose, complex flow, character development, shifting perspectives, and the weight of the circumstances coalesce into a deeply gripping account of the Nigerian Civil War period. This recounting places Adichie on the same footing as Achebe. They both are national treasures and the Homeric orators of Nigeria’s stilted and violent march towards some idea of a whole.
“Half of a Yellow Sun” is expansive in scope but tight in its execution. The tome never feels insurmountable, and by the end, you hate that it ends. Then again, you know that the story cannot end and that it is just one of many that could be told of that time. Adichie pulls you deeply into the plot along with the character intricacies and envelops you in the ties that connect them all. The novel is personally enthralling; as if I was walking in my parents’ and grandparents’ footsteps.
It is also deeply heartbreaking in as many ways. The bitter reminder is that war destroys our humanity and dismantles the rules upholding civilization. It reminds me of my own parents’ journeys to where they are and how their marriage, in a tribally divided Nigeria, is even more amazing. This connection is possible because of Adichie’s ability to lend a perfect level of detail to everything. The food, music, mood, temperature, scenery, smells, and the mixing of languages all come to vibrant life across the pages. Adichie perfectly captures the swirling mix of mysticism, hope, fear, tension, and joy that is Nigeria.
She also manages to underscore the lingering sabotage of colonialism. The concurrent suffering of Black people across the world. One people, separated by slavery, war, and strife. All looking for a nation free of colonial influence. The brokenness of the African Diaspora is perfectly captured in the line: “I want this war to end so he can come back. He has become somebody else.” A bitter reminder of how Africa and Africans have been changed over the centuries by forces not their own.
This was my first foray into the prolific works of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
Her treatment of the subject of the Nigeria Civil war between 1967 and 1970 gives us a look at the period from the view points of two Igbo sisters raised with privilege but becoming wise to another life experience, a self-proclaimed revolutionary university professor who believes in socialism/tribalism over capitalism, and a white journalist in love with one of the sisters but struggling with the reality that he can never fully understand her experience. The story is peppered with themes of post-colonial fallout, patriotism and politics, and relationships and marriage roles.
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