It is what happens when you sit back and do nothing about tyranny.

Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

These days, it's easy to find books that feature young protagonists navigating all the areas of life that one might expect: parents, friendships, dating, school. What's more difficult is to find a book that conveys precisely how it feels to be afloat in the microcosm of childhood: the mysteriousness of adults, the need for connection, the attraction of the untrodden path. The magical thing about these books is that no matter where the characters are and what they're doing - busking on a Vancouver street corner or fighting monsters on the English countryside - the familiarity of their thoughts and emotions leads us back to the parts of childhood that never really leave us.

Purple Hibiscus is one of these books. It follows the lives of Kambili and her brother Jaja as they have their first experiences away from the household of their father, a man whose religious convictions and uncompromising personality drive him to champion the interests of his community, but to ruthlessly punish his family when he believes they've done wrong. Kambili and Jaja spent their lives struggling away from his anger and towards his approval, living each day according to a schedule he set for them, but a visit to their aunt's home gives them a taste of a world without these restrictions - a world where where they must learn to make their own decisions, speak up, and allow themselves the possibilities of laughter and heartbreak.

Kambili is almost painfully relatable. Even when I found myself groaning at some of her actions, I was simultaneously thinking "Yup, been there." Every character is complex and layered with ambiguity. Their lives play out against a background of political upheaval, which unpredictably impinges upon them. The ending delivers one shock after another, forcing the reader the re-examine the assumptions they have made about multiple people's actions over the course of the entire story.

Another great thing about this book is how it immerses the reader in the Nigerian setting through vivid sensory details combined with the use of Igbo words that are not immediately defined, but whose meanings the reader can guess approximately. You'll learn something about life in Nigeria, almost without being consciously aware that you are learning.

However, the book has its flaws. The plot slowed down in the second half, and my enchantment with the style of writing began to wear off as little cliches began to pop up. When I put the book down, I wasn't itching to pick it up again the way I was during the first half. And this isn't quite a flaw, but some paragraphs may be difficult to take in for readers who are sensitive to depictions of brutality against defenseless people and animals.

It's a book that's both comforting and discomfiting. It challenges the reader to see the good and bad in every character, and to watch as the two opposites collide, blur, and explode.

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