Purple Hibiscus

"To restore the dignity of man."

I finally read Purple Hibiscus after purchasing it from a downtown used bookstore several months ago. Despite being an admirer of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie for her future novels, I took my time to devour her debut novel. It was a mistake. Without a doubt, hints of Adichie's greatness as a writer are already strong in Purple Hibiscus. Her simple, yet deep prose, skill with visuals and capturing the flowers, plants, animals, and winds (especially the harmattan winds) of Nigeria, and encapsulating the turmoil and travails of the post-colonial Nigerian state through one family offers powerful lessons regarding power, identity, and the importance of keeping the delicate alive.

In many ways, this author shares Chinua Achebe's vision and style, especially in peppering the novel with Igbo cuisine, language, culture, religion, folklore (especially through the memorable tale of why the tortoise has a cracked shell, as told by the narrator's grandfather), as well as critiquing a slavish imitation of European-styled Catholicism or speaking solely English in formal situations. Religion and the age-old problem of religion being a tool of European imperialism to colonize Africa appear throughout, although Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie provides the reader with several examples of characters whose practice of Catholicism is not embedded in Western forms and prejudice against traditional religion. The Apparition of Aokpa, a Marian apparition that never received formal recognition from the Vatican, is one successful instance of Nigerian Catholicism seeking a separate identity rooted within Igbo culture, just as the use of singing in Igbo and the mixture of traditional elements and respect for the ways of the past exist side by side with someone as abhorrent as Eugene, Kambili's father, who sees Igbo religious traditions as heathenism.

Father Amadi, Aunty Ifeoma, and Kambili herself, to a certain extent, reveal the nuanced ways in which Christianity has become 'Africanized' in a way that does not denigrate or deny the importance of the ways of one's ancestors, something that is tied to crafting a larger 'ethnic' Igbo identity and Nigerian nationality. Eugene, unlike his sister and characters, looks down on his father for never converting to Catholicism, looks down on speaking Igbo in public or the singing in Igbo during Mass, and certainly favored emulation of British culture and social manners to become 'civilized.' In other words, Papa became 'confused' and in his endeavors to 'save' his family from moral condemnation, his tyrannical rule and physical abuse toward his family mirrored the political violence and military dictatorship of the Nigerian state. Much like the dictators and corrupt police, Eugene used force, manipulation, and fear to coerce his family and impose his will, eventually refusing to let the beautiful, delicate hibiscus of family and nation to thrive.

Like other multi-dimensional characters in this excellent novel, Eugene was quite critical of the corrupt dictatorship, and used his ownership of the Standard newspaper (and its editor, Ade Coke, later targeted by the state) to 'speak truth to power.' Similarly, Eugene's family, especially his children, learn to rebel against their tyrannical father (especially after much needed respites from home with Aunty Ifeoma and their cousins, which exposes them to their grandfather and broadens their perspectives) and before one knows it, begin to see the world through lens more inclusive, accepting, and defensive of a specifically and proudly Nigerian post-colonial state.

Although the future of the family is unclear (which is similar to the case of Nigeria, too), a positive future is hinted at by the novel's conclusion, and one can only hope the purple hibiscus, ixora and other flowers are planted in the garden. So, unlike, say, Chinua Achebe's timeless classic, Things Fall Apart, this is not quite a tragic hero story, but an optimistic look at the future of independent Nigeria, free to cultivate its own flowers and pursue a tomorrow in accordance with its own cultural values and thinking. Unfortunately, the novel does not delve into the dilemma of Aunty Ifeoma's life in the US (where she is forced to go with her family by the political turmoil and deteriorating economic conditions) nor foreshadow the dark conclusion and final act of rebellion, nor does it provide a lengthy backdrop for how Eugene turned against his father and Igbo past, even if doing so would lead one away from Kambili's narration. Yet, despite some criticisms or wishing for additional background information, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie deserves accolades for such a successful and realistic portrayal of an Igbo Nigerian upper-class teenager's world. If Achebe read this work, I am sure he would be proud of the flowering of Nigerian written literature since his youth.