The Beauty of the Sun

There are two important rules of novel writing. The first is that the greatness and subtlty of a novel hendges upon how information is withheld and not how it is revealed. Second, that each story has one perfect form. If a writer fails to find that perfect form, the story will not tell.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and defied time and mastered form in her second novel, Half of a Yellow Sun. A historical account of the Biafran nation embedded with personal tales of love, betrayal and pride, Adichie's novel is masterfully composed.

Each sentence sings, while each charecter has his/her own rhythm. Each characters identity is deeply developed and identifiable. If Adichie never noted which character was speaking, the reader would know because each person has his/her own cadence and style that dances and matures through out the text.

There is the essence of love which survives in spite of war. This love freely, and sensuously carries us through the text. Each scene is whole, and satisfyingly complete. Nothing is lost. Every opened chapter meets it's close.

Adichie's main characters in both Half of a Yellow Sun and Purple Hibiscus tend to be well educated, well financed. Instinctually, one would wonder how representative the novels are of the nation as a whole. As a reviewer, I must retract that instinct. Why must all writers of color write 'representative' works? Adichie has spoke of feeling personally compelled to ward of negative stereo-types and expectations. While both novels stand tall in accomplishing just that, each work stands more importantly as a beautifully complete, testiment of literature in its highest art.

Some novels must be read immediately twice in a row in order to create the illusion that the story, the song never ends. The reader will not want to close Half of a Yellow Sun, and very well turn to these pages time and time again.

Love,
Lhea J.