I've always felt like the sort of person who should
be reading her work so I'm almost embarrassed to admit how late I am to the Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie bandwagon. I'm glad I waited for Americanah.
Any narrative flaws (real or imagined) are more than made up for by the honesty at the heart of the story she tells; the characters' constant struggle to re-weave the disparate strands of a tattered concept, ravaged by time into frightening fluidity, into something with the semblance of stability of the original meaning of the term, home.
The sheer amount of TRUTH
overflowing from some of the pages in her book made me want to compile them into a little book and give to friends, family members and anyone else who wanted an accurate report of what it feels like to live where you're not wanted in the hope of never having to live in want.