Correspondent: I have to ask you about the fact that every character in this book is sleeping with somebody else.
Adichie: [laughs]
Correspondent: And there is no monogamous marriage exemplar in any of the characters, in any of the major characters. This struck me as kind of interesting. It’s a very sensual book, certainly. But it’s not just that. It seemed to sort of suggest to me that one could not be loyal in one’s relationship; therefore, one could not be loyal to any of these causes that were actually occurring in Nigeria at the time. I was wondering if you could, sort of, describe how the relationship and the loyalty in the relationship, or the presumed loyalty, depending upon what sort of arrangement you have…
Adichie: [laughs]
Correspondent: And how you got permission. But that’s a whole ‘nother side track. Sorry! I’ll shut up. Go for it.
Adichie: Okay, now, that’s really interesting. I’ll have to think about that. The parallel between the relationship and the cause, I don’t know. I think what I wanted to do with that was simply to say human beings are flawed, were hopelessly flawed, and also in some ways to — so my parents were telling me these stories about the war and often I would be thinking, wondering how much it changed their relationship. And when I would ask people questions or read things about the war, and there’s a lot of people sleeping with each other, as there is everywhere I think, it made me wonder about how relationships changed. When you have a relationship and everyone’s happy and your life is comfortably middle-class, and you’re sort of having cucumber sandwiches. And then suddenly, you’re reduced to this place where you are thinking about eating lizards. It has to do something to the way you have sex! You know? That’s what I’m thinking.
Correspondent: Yeah.
Adichie: And I guess also just to show the ability to forgive. How in war, horrible things are happening, but then you’re finding yourself forgiving the person you love, who’s hurt you, who’s betrayed you. You know? And I sort of saw them as — it’s difficult for them to be loyal to one another, because the struggle to be be loyal to this big thing, this cause, this faith in something bigger than they are, and I think there’s a part of me that’s hopelessly romantic. And I just love the idea of believing in something. You know, standing up for something. And we don’t have that in Nigeria anymore. And it depresses me.
The whole of this interview with Chimamanda Adichie will appear very soon on The Bat Segundo Show.
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (
Wooo!