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4.27 AVERAGE
4.27 AVERAGE
As always this book by one of my favourite authors is beautifully written. It is a tribute to her father, who died during the pandemic in June 2020. My own father died 14 years ago but the events that overtook my life at that time and for the following three years robbed me of the time to grieve and mourn. Like Chimamanda Adichie, I also took after my father and so this book was timely and helpful in exploring my own feelings and processing that long delayed grief.
Grief is so subjective, but so much of this book rang true to me. A sweet tribute.
fast-paced
My first encounter with the work of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. I'm impressed. Adichie gives an insightful and moving account of the process of grief she went through after her father suddenly died during the pandemic. A book that may comfort those who are in a similar situation, and that may help to be closer to those that are grieving. Her remarks on what not to say and what is comforting to someone who is mourning the death of a loved one are very enlightening.
Listening to the audiobook, narrated by the author, made this an even more powerful experience, and I highly recommend it. The way she captures both love and loss is incredibly moving, offering a heartfelt tribute to her father while painting a vivid picture of grief’s complexities.
I myself have not yet experienced grief like this and I wonder if that's why I cannot give it 5 stars. Might come back to this to make that journey - when it happens - a little less daunting.
I myself have not yet experienced grief like this and I wonder if that's why I cannot give it 5 stars. Might come back to this to make that journey - when it happens - a little less daunting.
Ik was benieuwd wat een gelauwerde schrijfster die haar vader adoreerde zou schrijven over rouw, maar ik vond het teleurstellend — met alle respect voor haar verdriet en verlies.
Je krijgt geen goed beeld van zijn leven (liefdevolle professor statistiek, levenswijs, half-Amerikaans, de rust zelve, zelfs na een ontvoering), noch een goed beeld van hun onmetelijke liefde, noch iets nieuws over rouw, behalve dat je pas weet hoe je rouwt als je rouwt.
Je ziet een paar ideeën die terugkomen in ‘Purple Hibiscus’ en ‘Half of a Yellow Sun’, maar ook die worden maar zijdelings aangeraakt. Ze is zoveel beter en beeldender in haar fictie.
Egodocumenten moeten voor mij al verbluffend zijn en voldoende gefictionaliseerd voor ze me meeslepen. Eigenlijk wist ik dat al, maar ik dacht dat Adichies talent me misschien zou kunnen overtuigen van het tegendeel.
Je krijgt geen goed beeld van zijn leven (liefdevolle professor statistiek, levenswijs, half-Amerikaans, de rust zelve, zelfs na een ontvoering), noch een goed beeld van hun onmetelijke liefde, noch iets nieuws over rouw, behalve dat je pas weet hoe je rouwt als je rouwt.
Je ziet een paar ideeën die terugkomen in ‘Purple Hibiscus’ en ‘Half of a Yellow Sun’, maar ook die worden maar zijdelings aangeraakt. Ze is zoveel beter en beeldender in haar fictie.
Egodocumenten moeten voor mij al verbluffend zijn en voldoende gefictionaliseerd voor ze me meeslepen. Eigenlijk wist ik dat al, maar ik dacht dat Adichies talent me misschien zou kunnen overtuigen van het tegendeel.
Today is my late father's birthday so I decided to read this. Very relatable, indeed.
emotional
inspiring
reflective
sad
fast-paced
emotional
reflective
sad
fast-paced
I admit my bias. I read this book, tonight, 18 days after my dad died. Eighteen days ago, he was still breathing and talking and living with me in my house. So this book touched me where no other words, no other person, has been able to touch, a place deep within a winding labyrinth where grief lives and burns bright.
I lost my dad on 5 June, almost a year to the day when Adichie lost her dad. The torture and anguish from the confines of quarantine amidst a pandemic hum in the same key. The parallels in thought, in absolute rage, are uncanny. Simply and completely uncanny. This book is small and so so mighty. I happened on it browsing authors I’ve read before, when the title was revealed to me (thank you, whoever or whatever you are). This is the least alone I have felt in the past 18 days, the most understood and HELD. As I read her book, alone, on the couch in my living room, my husband and babies healthy and safe and asleep upstairs, I am a mere 20 paces from my dad’s room, where he was just sleeping, and resting, and laughing, and talking, just 18 days ago.
I lost my dad on 5 June, almost a year to the day when Adichie lost her dad. The torture and anguish from the confines of quarantine amidst a pandemic hum in the same key. The parallels in thought, in absolute rage, are uncanny. Simply and completely uncanny. This book is small and so so mighty. I happened on it browsing authors I’ve read before, when the title was revealed to me (thank you, whoever or whatever you are). This is the least alone I have felt in the past 18 days, the most understood and HELD. As I read her book, alone, on the couch in my living room, my husband and babies healthy and safe and asleep upstairs, I am a mere 20 paces from my dad’s room, where he was just sleeping, and resting, and laughing, and talking, just 18 days ago.