How Adichie Fell Off Her Pedestal

Throughout the history of my blog, I've always revered Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. And In a recent post in which I praised her writing and excitedly looked forward to reading her latest book Americanah, I also spoke about my reticence about meeting her face to face. I’d heard her speak live twice but each time I always left (or hid) rather than meet with her or have her sign my books. This was because I didn't want my image of her – an image in which she is a gloriously brilliant and noble genius devoid of any human failings or flaws – to be ruined. 

I didn't want the real Adichie to disappoint me.

But this past week, I've read many things that have knocked Adichie off the pedestal she occupied in my mind, and the truth is, I saw it coming.

In a recent interview she did with American blogger Aaron Aden, Adichie came off as intelligent, measured, forthright and accomplished, but also condescending and egotistical. She described Elnathan John, a Nigerian writer who had attended one of her writing workshops (and who, by the way, has has THE best ‘About Me’ Blogger Intro I have ever read) in a manner that belittles him and exalts her. Here’s the offending part of the interview:

AB: I would love to ask you about the Caine Prize. I find it interesting that so many Nigerians are on the short list this year—that it’s four Nigerians out of five . . . 

CA: Umm, why is that a problem? Watch it. 

AB: Well, none of them are you! 

CA: Elnathan was one of my boys in my workshop. But what’s all this over-privileging of the Caine Prize, anyway? I don’t want to talk about the Caine Prize, really. I suppose it’s a good thing, but for me it’s not the arbiter of the best fiction in Africa. It’s never been. I know that Chinelo is on the short list, too. But I haven’t even read the stories—I’m just not very interested. I don’t go the Caine Prize to look for the best in African fiction. 

AB: Where do you go? 

CA: I go to my mailbox, where my workshop people send me their stories. I could give you a list of ten—mostly in Nigeria—writers who I think are very good. They’re not on the Caine Prize short list. 

This condescension irked Elnathan, who wrote a passive-aggressive retort to Adichie in his blog. Nigeria’s literary community were also irked, and took to newspapers, blogs and Twitter to vent. I only heard about the beef via a Twitter link to a story written by Sylvia Ofili in response to Adichie's comment that the best in African writing where found in her mailbox. 

Nigerian writer Elnathan John and Chimamanda Adichie

The reverence, accolades and praise she has been showered with since her debut novel Purple Hisbiscus seems to have elevated Adichie’s sense of self to a level where she now looks down from on high on the rest of us. Many reader comments in response to the Elnathan Caine Prize Beef have also confirmed my fears, as many of those who have met her state that Adichie is cold, distant and smiles with her lips but not her eyes during meet and greets. One girl recalled how, after she met Adichie in London following a talk, the writer scolded her for wearing a weave.

It is sad, but not surprising, to see that brilliance has been marred by humanity. But isn't that always the way? I never expected her to be perfect, that was why I preferred to admire her from afar. I never wanted to see this unpleasant side of her. I caught glimpses of her personality from the female characters she writes about, from Ifemelu to Kainene to Ujunwa, who are almost always quietly acidic and saturnine. This characteristic reminds me of a couple of friends I have, who are also brilliant, accomplished and loyal friends, so it didn't bother me. But I think she crossed the line by belittling Elnathan, who also stated in his blog that she emailed him scolding him for tweeting against her natural hair, and refused to speak to him afterwards despite his apologies. Adichie had also scolded a Nigerian magazine for referring to her as 'The Glamour Girl of Nigerian Writing', stating that it was an inappropriate description because she was past 30. Fair point. Yet she called a man above 30 ‘one of her boys.’

So Adichie has now come off the pedestal I had put her on. But it’s OK. I still love her writing, and Americanah was sublime. I loved the acerbic commentary on what it means to be Black in America, but not only to be African-American, but American African. I loved the dissection of liberal America both white, Black and other, loved the way the book weaves in the British Black experience too and the breezy but hard-hitting blog posts. The books says EVERYTHING I've felt, thought, said and experienced about race and Nigerian life and wealth, and much more that rang true, and the love story wasn't too bad either. 

Americanah felt so familiar. And unlike most people who read it that are either American, British or Nigerian but cannot always identify with all three cultures, I can identify with it all. I understood and recognised the American idiosyncrasies as well as the British nuances and the Nigerian ways, even the subtle and overt privileges of being an 'Americanah' (a Nigerian with experiences of living abroad). 

The best part for me was when Ifemelu described the initial shock of having to go into a capsule-like enclosure whilst entering and exiting a Nigerian bank. I laughed out loud whilst reading it, because I felt the exact same way when I had to do that for the first time, it was like "What the hell? What's going on here? How do I get out? Get me out!" 

If Americanah was a person, we would hit it off instantly and be best friends for life, because I so get it. Adichie writes very well. She says she spends a lot of time to construct the best sentences, and it shows. How’s this for a truth so well told:

“What I've noticed since been [in England] is that many English people are in awe of America but also deeply resent it,” Obinze added. “It’s the resentment of a parent whose child has become far more beautiful and with a far more interesting life.”

The best review of Americanah I've read is by Katherine Schulz (read it here) which does well to express Adichie's success in the ambition and scope of her book, as well as the fact that she captures and perceives race in America and Britain so well because she is an outsider.

Adichie is still, for me, the best writer of our generation that Nigeria has produced. I will not cut my nose to spite my face by denigrating her completely due to my new-found dislike for her personality as expressed in an interview and other exchanges. And although these are but minute insights into her character and in no way account for the totality of her as a person, it is enough for me to shake my head and lament on the damage our egos can cause. The praise she receives is justified, I just hope that in future she will speak and deal with her fans with more diplomacy, humility and wisdom. 

I, for one, now have an empty pedestal in my mind. And it shall henceforth remain empty because no human being can ever be above reproach.