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On the surface, Niru leads a charmed life. Raised by two attentive parents in Washington, D.C., he's a top student and a track star at his prestigious private high school. Bound for Harvard in the fall, his prospects are bright. But Niru has a painful secret: he is queer--an abominable sin to his conservative Nigerian parents. No one knows except Meredith, his best friend, the daughter of prominent Washington insiders--and the one person who seems not to judge him. When his father accidentally discovers Niru is gay, the fallout is brutal and swift. Coping with troubles of her own, however, Meredith finds that she has little left emotionally to offer him. As the two friends struggle to reconcile their desires against the expectations and institutions that seek to define them, they find themselves speeding toward a future more violent and senseless than they can imagine. Neither will escape unscathed.--from dust jacket.… (more)
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Niru had always been a dutiful son, brought up in a wealthy area of Washington, D.C. by very religious parents who came from Nigeria. But his father in particular had rigid conservative views, and thought homosexuality was an affront to God that must be exorcised. When he finds out about Niru, he takes him to the “motherland” for a “cure” by the bishop in his former home town. But Niru only becomes more confused:
“I wonder if my father and Reverend Olumide are right, maybe there is something truly abominable about me that only the purifying fire of constant prayer can purge. Maybe I have spent too much time in the United States soaking up ungodly values and satanic sentiments, as my father has said, and that has created a confusion only the motherland can cure. Or maybe I’m just me.”
Prayer doesn’t help Niru, although he strives to comply with the religious regimen set out for him. But when he returns home from Nigeria, he meets someone, Damien, who offers an appreciation for him as he really is. Niru feels even more disconcerted and alone:
“There is no one to speak to about my headache and my stomachache when I leave my bedroom and encounter this beautiful prison that my parents have built, when I see pictures of me on the walls and side tables that bear no resemblance to the me they cannot see.”
He muses:
“Sometimes I stare at the family that owns me and I wish I were a different person, with white skin and the ability to tell my mother and my father, especially my father, to fuck off without consequences.”
He is leading a number of different lives, but he wants to live only one. The cognitive and emotional dissonance wreaks havoc on him, leading to an unexpected denouement.
The last section of book takes place six years later.
Evaluation: The writing by Iweala is quite good, in spite of the fact that he renders Niru’s voice as a naif. I was reminded a bit of The Inexplicable Logic of My Life by Benjamin Alire Sáenz, in which the construction of the immature narrator’s voice in a simplistic style got in the way, for me, of getting to know the characters. If not for the mostly superficial portraits of himself and others provided by Niru, there could have been even more emotional heft to this story.
Nevertheless, I thought it had the bones of a good story, and the book was quite absorbing.
The first 9 chapters are narrated by Niru, a Nigerian-American boy who realizes he's gay in his senior year of high school and has to contend with the expectations and cultural norms of his
...and then suddenly the novel jumps over to a new point of view, at the most jarring moment possible, and makes me regret invoking The Hate U Give by suddenly dropping its original plotline entirely for a police-shooting-of-an-unarmed-teen plotline, with a shallowly portrayed protagonist (She's no Star, I'll tell you) and a rushed conclusion. What happened here?? I would have preferred to see this cut off as a novella, ending ambiguously where Niru's narration leaves off, as at least one can read a full character arc into that thread (and thematic/tonal unity).
What a disappointment and exercise in cliche from a book that was 70% a masterpiece.
Iweala is doing a lot in a short novel. He's looking at the immigrant experience, as well as that of their relationship with their country of origin, he's looking at the expectations placed on the children of immigrants to do well, racism, and what it means to be gay when your parents and their culture are hostile. For the most part, he pulls it off, although there are some awkward passages and scenes that seem pulled from a much longer novel. The ending is shocking, but more effective for its suddenness. Iweala in an author to watch. I'm eager to see how he develops as a writer.
This story was hard
Still, I loved the messages hiding beneath the words written. The power of words, of what is and what isn't said. The way Iweala split the book into two parts each from a different characters perspective truly highlighted this, and proved that old quote about never knowing someone else's struggles. In Niru's journey I was frustrated and confused by Meredith's absence or seeming lack of care, and yet when it switched to her perspective, suddenly you realize she is battling her own demons, and the story becomes so much richer and deep.
The second half was very hard for me to get through, as emotions ran very high, only proving to me that the writing was so strong and characterization on point. Otherwise I wouldn't have cared so much about Niru and Meredith's journey.
This was a strong novel with a strong cast, good writing, powerful moments, and an important message. Definitely a novel I recommend.
I just loved this book, and it's so fitting of our times.