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Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Harper Perennial – £7.99 (softback 307 pages)
The new colour purple
Matt Taylor takes a look at the debut novel
from Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi
Adichie and discovers a salutary story of
fanatical religion told by an assured new
voice.
Anyone who has ever lived with
the controlling cruelty of religious
extremism will feel a chill of recognition reading the sparingly beautiful writing of Chimamanda Ngozi
Adichie. From the first sentence
we are immediately drawn to the
centre of family life in the cold
conservative Catholic home of
Kambili and her brother, Jaja, in
Enugu, Nigeria.
Father, whose Christian name is
Eugene, requires absolute obedience at all times from his wife and
children. This, he feels, is the only
hope of saving their souls. PapaNnukwu, the children’s grandfather, prefers the traditional beliefs
and so they see little of him, in
case they are ‘contaminated’.
Although Eugene is a violent tyrant
at home, he is a more complex
figure than we might first believe.
The family’s story unfolds against
the backdrop of brutal political
upheaval and Kambili’s father uses
his work for a newspaper to speak
out against a
coup. When his
editor is taken
away by the
military police, Eugene comforts
the man’s distraught wife with a
remarkable tenderness.
Amid the daily miseries of Kambili’s
and Jaja’s life, a new breeze begins
to blow when they are taken to
visit their aunt at Nsukka. Although
Aunt Ifeoma is Eugene’s sister she
is his opposite in almost every way.
Her household is one of smiling,
laughter, freedom and the spontaneous expression of feelings and
affection. It is in her yard where
purple hibiscus flowers grow. These
are a prized rarity, slower to develop
than the more common red hibiscus
which Kambili knows from the
family yard in Enugu.
Gradually a long-awaited note of
hope begins to emerge for both
Kambili and Jaja. The chance to
talk to Aunt Ifeoma, and a freethinking priest, Father Amadi, opens
their minds to new ideas, new
thoughts, and the alarming possibility of defying their father. In Jaja’s
case in particular, the consequences
of this cast long shadows to the
very end of the novel.
The way in which the narrative
develops and the purple hibiscus
becomes a metaphor for Kambili’s
personal awakening, is best left to
the haunting prose of Adichie.
There are many unexpected developments on the journey but it is
one which I challenge any reader
to regret making, despite the emotional resources which are required
along the way.
It is easy to see why this book was
awarded the Hurston/Wright Legacy
prize, and why Adichie’s new novel,
Half of a Yellow Sun is eagerly
awaited.