"I didn't know I was black until I moved to America." Adichie's story of a Nigerian woman moving to the US and then returning home again is a strong novel, and much like Half Of A Yellow Sun it's very hard to put down once you get into it. A believable star-crossed (or rather pride-and-accident-crossed) lovers' tale framing a story of identity, adaptation, prejudice and communication (or lack thereof), centered around one woman trying to keep track of and establish who she is in the eyes of everyone around her; is it even possible for a woman of colour to simply be her, not whatever people (and she herself) projects on her?

"Saying 'the question of race is complicated' is the biggest simplification of all."

At the risk of sounding like a character in the novel, there are times when the novel's constant dissection of race becomes almost a little single-minded, and Ifemelu and her blog always getting the last word on it in-story - but then again, I'm one of those who don't have to face it myself, and considering all the other single-minded novels I've read, what's to complain about? Adichie picks and picks and picks at the relationship between her characters, between their images of where they and the others come from and what they are, the different sets of expectations and limitations placed upon people in different contexts, the clash between old images and new, argues her case extremely well, paints a multi-faceted picture both of the things that are said and the things that are pointedly NOT said, and delivers one hell of a novel. This is a novelist reaching her peak, still having reserves to draw on.

Also, the US concept of 'race' really is all-pervasive, isn't it?