What do you think?
Rate this book
Second Class Citizen
A poignant story of a resourceful Nigerian woman who overcomes strict tribal domination of women and countless setbacks to achieve an independent life for herself and her children.
174 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1974
About the author
Buchi Emecheta
24 books546 followersBuchi Emecheta OBE was a Nigerian novelist who has published over 20 books, including Second-Class Citizen (1974), The Bride Price (1976), The Slave Girl (1977) and The Joys of Motherhood (1979). Her themes of child slavery, motherhood, female independence and freedom through education have won her considerable critical acclaim and honours, including an Order of the British Empire in 2005. Emecheta once described her stories as "stories of the world…[where]… women face the universal problems of poverty and oppression, and the longer they stay, no matter where they have come from originally, the more the problems become identical."
From 1965 to 1969, Emecheta worked as a library officer for the British Museum in London. From 1969 to 1976 she was a youth worker and sociologist for the Inner London Education Authority, and from 1976 to 1978 she was a community worker.
Following her success as an author, Emecheta travelled widely as a visiting professor and lecturer. From 1972 to 1979 she visited several American universities, including Pennsylvania State University, Rutgers University, the University of California, Los Angeles, and the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.
From 1980 to 1981, she was senior resident fellow and visiting professor of English, University of Calabar, Nigeria. In 1982 she lectured at Yale University, and the University of London, as well as holding a fellowship at the University of London in 1986.
From 1982 to 1983 Buchi Emecheta, together with her journalist son Sylvester, ran the Ogwugwu Afor Publishing Company.
(from Wikipedia)
From 1965 to 1969, Emecheta worked as a library officer for the British Museum in London. From 1969 to 1976 she was a youth worker and sociologist for the Inner London Education Authority, and from 1976 to 1978 she was a community worker.
Following her success as an author, Emecheta travelled widely as a visiting professor and lecturer. From 1972 to 1979 she visited several American universities, including Pennsylvania State University, Rutgers University, the University of California, Los Angeles, and the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.
From 1980 to 1981, she was senior resident fellow and visiting professor of English, University of Calabar, Nigeria. In 1982 she lectured at Yale University, and the University of London, as well as holding a fellowship at the University of London in 1986.
From 1982 to 1983 Buchi Emecheta, together with her journalist son Sylvester, ran the Ogwugwu Afor Publishing Company.
(from Wikipedia)
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 467 reviews
October 7, 2020
O título escolhido pela incrível autora nigeriana consegue definir bem a forma como Adah, a protagonista do livro, se sente na Inglaterra da década de 60. Muito embora Adah tenha nascido e sido criada na Nigéria, decidiu deixar o país e acompanhar os passos do marido em busca de uma vida mais promissora para si e para seus filhos. Mas o que a jovem não sabia é que naquele país a rotina seria de muita discriminação. A discriminação por ser estrangeira, negra e mulher.
E não bastasse a forma cruel com que a sociedade lhe trata, o ambiente íntimo familiar é ainda pior. Francis, seu marido, é o retrato daquele que suga até as últimas forças de sua companheira. O abuso psicológico e físico é algo constante na relação. E, mais que isso, a fragilidade e insegurança de Francis não consegue conviver com o fato de que é Adah quem sustenta a família com um trabalho, sobre o qual se somam os trabalhos domésticos e a criação dos filhos.
A força do relato sofrido da vida de Adah parece vir da própria história da autora nigeriana. Nascida em 1944, em Lagos, na Nigéria, Buchi Emecheta também perdeu os pais e foi dada em casamento ainda quando criança, também se mudou para uma Londres racista e xenofóbica e também foi vítima de um triste relacionamento abusivo.
A escrita é tranquila e, apesar do impacto e da crueza das passagens, consegue segurar o leitor. Ao longo do livro foram vários os momentos em que senti uma vontade de poder interferir naquela situação tão injusta, o que confirma a minha aproximação com a personagem.
Além dessa obra, já havia lido “As alegrias da maternidade” da mesma autora e a experiência com as duas obras foi muito marcante. Emecheta é uma daquelas autoras que, na minha opinião, merecem ainda mais destaque na literatura universal. Suas obras são uma denúncia de realidades muito frequentes, mas ainda pouco conhecidas. Por isso, se desejo que as palavras da autora possam ser espalhadas por todos os cantos, o que posso recomendar para vocês é que leiam seus livros! Recomendo muito!
Nota: 9,5/10
Leia mais resenhas em https://www.instagram.com/book.ster/
E não bastasse a forma cruel com que a sociedade lhe trata, o ambiente íntimo familiar é ainda pior. Francis, seu marido, é o retrato daquele que suga até as últimas forças de sua companheira. O abuso psicológico e físico é algo constante na relação. E, mais que isso, a fragilidade e insegurança de Francis não consegue conviver com o fato de que é Adah quem sustenta a família com um trabalho, sobre o qual se somam os trabalhos domésticos e a criação dos filhos.
A força do relato sofrido da vida de Adah parece vir da própria história da autora nigeriana. Nascida em 1944, em Lagos, na Nigéria, Buchi Emecheta também perdeu os pais e foi dada em casamento ainda quando criança, também se mudou para uma Londres racista e xenofóbica e também foi vítima de um triste relacionamento abusivo.
A escrita é tranquila e, apesar do impacto e da crueza das passagens, consegue segurar o leitor. Ao longo do livro foram vários os momentos em que senti uma vontade de poder interferir naquela situação tão injusta, o que confirma a minha aproximação com a personagem.
Além dessa obra, já havia lido “As alegrias da maternidade” da mesma autora e a experiência com as duas obras foi muito marcante. Emecheta é uma daquelas autoras que, na minha opinião, merecem ainda mais destaque na literatura universal. Suas obras são uma denúncia de realidades muito frequentes, mas ainda pouco conhecidas. Por isso, se desejo que as palavras da autora possam ser espalhadas por todos os cantos, o que posso recomendar para vocês é que leiam seus livros! Recomendo muito!
Nota: 9,5/10
Leia mais resenhas em https://www.instagram.com/book.ster/
May 18, 2010
Second Class Citizen is a very auto-biographical account of Buchi Emecheta’s emigration from Nigeria to London. It’s a personal story, one that candidly depicts the challenges of living with a difficult and unfaithful spouse, of being a young mother with little money, of the added challenge of “polite” racism that forced her to live beneath her previous standards, and even her own trivial concerns, such as not being properly dressed in the hospital after nearly dying during childbirth. One wants to reach through the pages and shake this obviously intelligent woman and make her stand up on her own. Her upbringing in Africa has taught her that women are second class and do not matter as much as their husbands, they are only to take care of the home and have as many children as possible. Thankfully, after living in London for years, she unlearns those childhood “lessons.” You can hear this woman’s voice as you read and know she is a person you could easily befriend and always be entertained by; she almost always finds the positive in the negative (and she’s got plenty of negatives!). Dr. Emecheta is an author who has been an inspiration to me; not only was she living in a foreign country raising five children and acting as the sole support for her family, but she still managed to have a career and write prolifically. Where she had the time is anyone’s guess.
March 26, 2017
Second Class Citizen really affected me. Whilst some cultural references bewildered me when I read its first few chapters because of my detachment from the Nigerian culture, the book hooked me right through. I loved and respected Adah for both her flaws and her strength in character; she is strong, naive, contradictory and honestly reflective and I could relate to her. I could not imagine what my life would be if I were Adah. Reading the book made me feel grateful for all the privileges I had. It was heartbreaking for me to read about a young woman of about my age (I am 22) struggling to educate herself, to bring up her five children and to deal with a parasitic, manipulative and abusive husband...whilst here I am, pursuing my passion in university, enjoying myself being loved and spoilt, daydreaming and thinking of ways to annoy grown-ups! So my responses to the book were, 'Wow!' and 'Ouch!'
April 14, 2022
"A Adah la habrían sacado de la escuela, pero alguien señaló que, cuanto más tiempo estudiara, mayor sería la dote que pagaría su futuro marido. Al fin y al cabo, con solo nueve años o así, todavía era joven para casarse, y además el dinero extra que se pudiera sacar por ella ayudaría a Boy."
Ciudadana de segunda aunque fue la segunda novela de Buchi Emecheta, publicada en 1974, se puede considerar una precuela de “In the ditch” (En la cuneta), su primera novela. En esta primera novela, Buchi Emecheta nos cuenta sobre la soledad de Adah, una inmigrante nigeriana que tras el abandono de su marido que vuelve a Nigeria, se encuentra sola en Londres al cargo de cinco hijos y con la única subsistencia de las ayudas sociales briánicas. In the ditch fue publicada en 1972, y ya en 1974, Buchi Emecheta publica su precuela, Ciudadana de segunda, donde la autora se detiene en la infancia de Adah hasta que se casa y emigra a Londres. En esta novela que nos ocupa, Buchi Emecheta nos incide desde el comienzo en las casi inexistentes posibilidades de autonomía en la Nigeria de aquella época para una mujer: si naces niña, no tienes ni voz ni voto y dependerás siempre de los hombres de tu familia, y una vez casada, de tu marido y tus suegros. Adah sabe desde pequeña que su única posibilidad de prosperar es estudiar y se las arregla con engaños y agudeza para ser escolarizada. La cultura igbo a la que pertenecía Adah desaprobaba la educación en las niñas aunque también es verdad que eso las revalorizaba a la hora de encontrar marido. El sueño de Adah es ir a la Universidad y a partir de ahi llegar a Inglaterra pero para una mujer sola era prácticamente imposible moverse con lo cual piensa que a través del matrimonio tendrá esa autonomía tan deseada, sin embargo, en cuanto se casa pasa a ser propiedad del marido.
"Al pensar en esa época, todavía se preguntaba por qué nunca le había parecido raro que la subsistencia de la familia dependiera exclusivamente de ella. Solo ella tenía la sensación de no cumplir con la familia si dejaba de trabajar, aunque fuera por tener otro hijo. Lo más curioso era que lo consideraba su deber, no el de su marido. Él tenia que disfrutar de una vida fácil..."
Para nuestra mentalidad occidental puede resultar dificil entender a Adah y esa dependencia continua al abuso de poder de sus familiares masculinos y más tarde de su marido sin embargo, el lector tiene que hacer un ajuste mental y situarse y comprender la cultura en la que nace Adah, donde una mujer vale menos que una cabra. Desde el mismo momento en que nace Ada su destino está marcado por la indiferencia y la invisibilidad. Adah tiene que nadar contracorriente continuamente para ir consiguiendo paso a paso desmarcarse de esos roles que su cerrada cultura le ha marcado solo por el simple hecho de haber nacido mujer. Una vez en Inglaterra además tiene que luchar contra las barreras que se le presentan por ser inmigrante y negra. Es casi un milagro ser testigo de cómo una mujer que ha nacido con cero derechos, va consiguiendo poco a poco desmarcarse y ser consciente de si misma como individuo, y todavía es más impactante descubrir que es una novela casi autobiográfica porque una vez que buceas en la vida de Buchi Emecheta, parece calcada de su protagonista Adah.
"En Inglaterra no podía ir a contarle sus cuitas a la vecina, como habría hecho en Lagos: habia aprendido a no hablar de sus desgracias con sus compañeras de trabajo, porque en esta sociedad a nadie le interesaba lo que les pasaba a los demás. (...) ¿Y quién te prestaba atención? Alguien que cobraba por escucharte. Alguien que te hacia sentir como un objeto de estudio (...) Alguien que te consideraba un caso."
La prosa de Buchi Emecheta es sencilla y directa pero no nos dejemos engañar por esta aparente sencillez porque a través de ella consigue presentarnos toda una variedad de temas, muchos de ellos todavía de actualidad: las barreras sociales con que se enfrentan los inmigrantes serán más o menos complejas dependiendo del color de su piel y sobre todo el retrato de la mujer africana en pleno años 60 una vez que salen de su país y se encuentran ante la disyuntiva de elegir entre modernidad y tradición, entre emancipación o seguir siendo sumisas para siempre. El colonialismo es uno de los grandes males del s.XX, profundamente enquistado todavía en muchas sociedades y por consiguiente era muy complejo conseguir liberarse mentalmente de esta dependencia colonial. Una novela que además retrata también esta cuestión magníficamente es Condiciones Nerviosas de Tsitsi Dangarembga.
En definitiva una autora todavía por descubrir asi que agradecer a Alba Editorial que la haya rescatado del olvido. La traducción es de Concha Cardeñoso Saenz de Miera.
“Ese lunes, al dirigirse a los baños, vio un pájaro: gris, pequeño, solitario, pero satisfecho en soledad. Le intrigó el animalito. Qué curioso que a esas horas de la mañana la conmoviera algo tan pequeño, cuando apenas un año antes había visto pájaros más salvajes, de colores chillones, que cantaban como locos.”
https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2022...
Ciudadana de segunda aunque fue la segunda novela de Buchi Emecheta, publicada en 1974, se puede considerar una precuela de “In the ditch” (En la cuneta), su primera novela. En esta primera novela, Buchi Emecheta nos cuenta sobre la soledad de Adah, una inmigrante nigeriana que tras el abandono de su marido que vuelve a Nigeria, se encuentra sola en Londres al cargo de cinco hijos y con la única subsistencia de las ayudas sociales briánicas. In the ditch fue publicada en 1972, y ya en 1974, Buchi Emecheta publica su precuela, Ciudadana de segunda, donde la autora se detiene en la infancia de Adah hasta que se casa y emigra a Londres. En esta novela que nos ocupa, Buchi Emecheta nos incide desde el comienzo en las casi inexistentes posibilidades de autonomía en la Nigeria de aquella época para una mujer: si naces niña, no tienes ni voz ni voto y dependerás siempre de los hombres de tu familia, y una vez casada, de tu marido y tus suegros. Adah sabe desde pequeña que su única posibilidad de prosperar es estudiar y se las arregla con engaños y agudeza para ser escolarizada. La cultura igbo a la que pertenecía Adah desaprobaba la educación en las niñas aunque también es verdad que eso las revalorizaba a la hora de encontrar marido. El sueño de Adah es ir a la Universidad y a partir de ahi llegar a Inglaterra pero para una mujer sola era prácticamente imposible moverse con lo cual piensa que a través del matrimonio tendrá esa autonomía tan deseada, sin embargo, en cuanto se casa pasa a ser propiedad del marido.
"Al pensar en esa época, todavía se preguntaba por qué nunca le había parecido raro que la subsistencia de la familia dependiera exclusivamente de ella. Solo ella tenía la sensación de no cumplir con la familia si dejaba de trabajar, aunque fuera por tener otro hijo. Lo más curioso era que lo consideraba su deber, no el de su marido. Él tenia que disfrutar de una vida fácil..."
Para nuestra mentalidad occidental puede resultar dificil entender a Adah y esa dependencia continua al abuso de poder de sus familiares masculinos y más tarde de su marido sin embargo, el lector tiene que hacer un ajuste mental y situarse y comprender la cultura en la que nace Adah, donde una mujer vale menos que una cabra. Desde el mismo momento en que nace Ada su destino está marcado por la indiferencia y la invisibilidad. Adah tiene que nadar contracorriente continuamente para ir consiguiendo paso a paso desmarcarse de esos roles que su cerrada cultura le ha marcado solo por el simple hecho de haber nacido mujer. Una vez en Inglaterra además tiene que luchar contra las barreras que se le presentan por ser inmigrante y negra. Es casi un milagro ser testigo de cómo una mujer que ha nacido con cero derechos, va consiguiendo poco a poco desmarcarse y ser consciente de si misma como individuo, y todavía es más impactante descubrir que es una novela casi autobiográfica porque una vez que buceas en la vida de Buchi Emecheta, parece calcada de su protagonista Adah.
"En Inglaterra no podía ir a contarle sus cuitas a la vecina, como habría hecho en Lagos: habia aprendido a no hablar de sus desgracias con sus compañeras de trabajo, porque en esta sociedad a nadie le interesaba lo que les pasaba a los demás. (...) ¿Y quién te prestaba atención? Alguien que cobraba por escucharte. Alguien que te hacia sentir como un objeto de estudio (...) Alguien que te consideraba un caso."
La prosa de Buchi Emecheta es sencilla y directa pero no nos dejemos engañar por esta aparente sencillez porque a través de ella consigue presentarnos toda una variedad de temas, muchos de ellos todavía de actualidad: las barreras sociales con que se enfrentan los inmigrantes serán más o menos complejas dependiendo del color de su piel y sobre todo el retrato de la mujer africana en pleno años 60 una vez que salen de su país y se encuentran ante la disyuntiva de elegir entre modernidad y tradición, entre emancipación o seguir siendo sumisas para siempre. El colonialismo es uno de los grandes males del s.XX, profundamente enquistado todavía en muchas sociedades y por consiguiente era muy complejo conseguir liberarse mentalmente de esta dependencia colonial. Una novela que además retrata también esta cuestión magníficamente es Condiciones Nerviosas de Tsitsi Dangarembga.
En definitiva una autora todavía por descubrir asi que agradecer a Alba Editorial que la haya rescatado del olvido. La traducción es de Concha Cardeñoso Saenz de Miera.
“Ese lunes, al dirigirse a los baños, vio un pájaro: gris, pequeño, solitario, pero satisfecho en soledad. Le intrigó el animalito. Qué curioso que a esas horas de la mañana la conmoviera algo tan pequeño, cuando apenas un año antes había visto pájaros más salvajes, de colores chillones, que cantaban como locos.”
https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2022...
December 8, 2020
“The title ‘United Kingdom’ when pronounced by Adah’s father sounded so heavy, like the type of noise one associated with bombs. It was so deep so, mysterious, that Adah’s father always voiced it in hushed tones, wearing such a respectful expression as if he were speaking of God’s Holiest of Holies. Going to the United Kingdom, then, must surely be like paying God a visit. The United Kingdom, then must be like heaven.”
Ever since her childhood in Nigeria, Adah wanted to see England. Married off at 16 to Francis, when he travels there to study, she follows along with their two small children. She’s barely 18, it’s the early 1960s and England’s a far colder place than Adah ever imagined.
Buchi Emecheta’s semi-autobiographical novel covers territory that might seem familiar, the racism of 1960s’ London, its poverty, everyday challenges like finding landlords who’ll accept black tenants, and the impact of suddenly being treated like a ‘second-class citizen.’ But, unusually for its time, it covers this from a woman’s perspective. And Emecheta’s focus here’s just as much, if not more, on Adah’s internal battles, her difficult journey to independence. Adah’s been taught her purpose is to pay for Francis’s education, and produce babies – as long as they aren’t all ‘insignificant’ girls. This is what’s expected so it’s what Adah does, meanwhile Francis does what he pleases, takes her money, sleeps around and is increasingly abusive. Adah’s cut off from a community that might help her with these problems, issues of class and background separate her from the other black families she encounters, almost as much as from the white people she meets. But after giving birth for the third time in rapid succession, Adah realises if she’s going to survive, she has to come up with a plan or she’ll be overwhelmed by the double weight of racism and misogyny.
Emecheta’s style is simple and direct, her well-crafted prose has a slightly informal quality, echoing Adah’s voice and thoughts. But the novel’s real strength is the compelling story; the sensitive depiction of Adah’s, not-always-likeable, character; and the complex underlying questions Emecheta’s highlighting around postcolonialism, cultural difference, identity and patriarchy. This also stands out for its immediacy, unlike most available books representing similar episodes in England’s inglorious past, Andrea Levy’s impressive portrayal of the Windrush generation in Small Island for example, Emecheta isn’t looking back on history in an attempt to recreate it, she’s drawing directly on her own.
Rating: 3.5
(prequel to In the Ditch)
Ever since her childhood in Nigeria, Adah wanted to see England. Married off at 16 to Francis, when he travels there to study, she follows along with their two small children. She’s barely 18, it’s the early 1960s and England’s a far colder place than Adah ever imagined.
Buchi Emecheta’s semi-autobiographical novel covers territory that might seem familiar, the racism of 1960s’ London, its poverty, everyday challenges like finding landlords who’ll accept black tenants, and the impact of suddenly being treated like a ‘second-class citizen.’ But, unusually for its time, it covers this from a woman’s perspective. And Emecheta’s focus here’s just as much, if not more, on Adah’s internal battles, her difficult journey to independence. Adah’s been taught her purpose is to pay for Francis’s education, and produce babies – as long as they aren’t all ‘insignificant’ girls. This is what’s expected so it’s what Adah does, meanwhile Francis does what he pleases, takes her money, sleeps around and is increasingly abusive. Adah’s cut off from a community that might help her with these problems, issues of class and background separate her from the other black families she encounters, almost as much as from the white people she meets. But after giving birth for the third time in rapid succession, Adah realises if she’s going to survive, she has to come up with a plan or she’ll be overwhelmed by the double weight of racism and misogyny.
Emecheta’s style is simple and direct, her well-crafted prose has a slightly informal quality, echoing Adah’s voice and thoughts. But the novel’s real strength is the compelling story; the sensitive depiction of Adah’s, not-always-likeable, character; and the complex underlying questions Emecheta’s highlighting around postcolonialism, cultural difference, identity and patriarchy. This also stands out for its immediacy, unlike most available books representing similar episodes in England’s inglorious past, Andrea Levy’s impressive portrayal of the Windrush generation in Small Island for example, Emecheta isn’t looking back on history in an attempt to recreate it, she’s drawing directly on her own.
Rating: 3.5
(prequel to In the Ditch)
December 6, 2015
Very interesting but sad book. I found it hard to put down. However, I found that plot picked up too fast at the end, with too many events happening in the last few chapters. The ending I found unsatisfactory - there needs to be a sequel, otherwise the book just feels incomplete.
November 28, 2023
What I Didn't Like :
1. The narration seemed very stiff in the first few chapters ( after a while it did get flowy though).
2. The episodes are repetitive and overly detailed.
3. I'm not particularly fond of obscure endings.
What I Liked :
1. It's a sincere and uncomplicated autobiographical account.
2. African culture is well-documented with ample references.
1. The narration seemed very stiff in the first few chapters ( after a while it did get flowy though).
2. The episodes are repetitive and overly detailed.
3. I'm not particularly fond of obscure endings.
What I Liked :
1. It's a sincere and uncomplicated autobiographical account.
2. African culture is well-documented with ample references.
February 26, 2023
Adah wird um die Zeit des Zweiten Weltkriegs geboren, wächst in Nigeria auf und hat bereits mit etwa acht Jahren einen Traum: Sie möchte Bildung und ein selbstbestimmtes Leben. Sie schult sich selbst ein, besucht auf eigene Faust eine weiterführende Schule - und muss letztlich doch heiraten, um ein Dach über dem Kopf zu haben. Als sich ihrem Ehemann die Möglichkeit eröffnet, in London zu studieren, folgt Adah ihm nach. Schnell muss sie erkennen, dass sie in Großbritannien als Mensch zweiter Klasse, als second-class Citizen gilt. Aber Adah findet sich damit nicht ab. Sie schuftet für ihre Familie, kommt für den Unterhalt ihrer Kinder auf und finanziert das Studium ihres gewalttätigen Partners - der sich alles andere als dankbar dafür zeigt.
Buchi Emechetas Roman "Second-Class Citizen" erschien bereits 1974 und wurde in diesem Jahr erstmals von Dr. Marion Kraft auf Deutsch übersetzt. Von der Booker-Prize-Gewinnerin Bernardine Evaristo wird Emecheta als "die Urmutter der Schwarzen feministischen Literatur" bezeichnet - umso bedeutender ist es, dass "Second-Class Citizen" nun auch einem breiten Publikum lesender Menschen in Deutschland zugänglich gemacht wird.
Adah ist in diesem autofiktionalen Roman das Alter Ego von Buchi Emecheta selbst. Die Autorin erzählt vom Kampf einer nigerianischen Frau, im England der 1960er Jahre Fuß zu fassen und sich ein selbstbestimmtes Leben aufzubauen. Dabei muss sie sowohl gegen innerfamiliäre Barrieren, als auch gegen systemische Steine, die man ihr in den Weg legt, ankämpfen. Weder ein physisch sowie psychisch gewalttätiger Ehemann, noch eine zutiefst rassistische und sexistische Gesellschaft können sie letztlich aufhalten - doch Adah zahlt immer wieder hohe Preise für ihre Emanzipation.
Ich habe "Second-Class Citizen" sehr gerne gelesen und Buchi Emechetas alias Adahs Weg mit Faszination und Bewunderung verfolgt. Für meinen Geschmack endet der Roman allerdings etwas zu abrupt, ich hätte gerne noch mehr über Adah erfahren. Ich hoffe, dass der Aufbau Verlag aus diesem ersten übersetzten Werk Buchi Emechetas ein ganzes Projekt werden lässt und auch weitere ihrer Werke auf Deutsch veröffentlicht. Für mich eine große Entdeckung!
Buchi Emechetas Roman "Second-Class Citizen" erschien bereits 1974 und wurde in diesem Jahr erstmals von Dr. Marion Kraft auf Deutsch übersetzt. Von der Booker-Prize-Gewinnerin Bernardine Evaristo wird Emecheta als "die Urmutter der Schwarzen feministischen Literatur" bezeichnet - umso bedeutender ist es, dass "Second-Class Citizen" nun auch einem breiten Publikum lesender Menschen in Deutschland zugänglich gemacht wird.
Adah ist in diesem autofiktionalen Roman das Alter Ego von Buchi Emecheta selbst. Die Autorin erzählt vom Kampf einer nigerianischen Frau, im England der 1960er Jahre Fuß zu fassen und sich ein selbstbestimmtes Leben aufzubauen. Dabei muss sie sowohl gegen innerfamiliäre Barrieren, als auch gegen systemische Steine, die man ihr in den Weg legt, ankämpfen. Weder ein physisch sowie psychisch gewalttätiger Ehemann, noch eine zutiefst rassistische und sexistische Gesellschaft können sie letztlich aufhalten - doch Adah zahlt immer wieder hohe Preise für ihre Emanzipation.
Ich habe "Second-Class Citizen" sehr gerne gelesen und Buchi Emechetas alias Adahs Weg mit Faszination und Bewunderung verfolgt. Für meinen Geschmack endet der Roman allerdings etwas zu abrupt, ich hätte gerne noch mehr über Adah erfahren. Ich hoffe, dass der Aufbau Verlag aus diesem ersten übersetzten Werk Buchi Emechetas ein ganzes Projekt werden lässt und auch weitere ihrer Werke auf Deutsch veröffentlicht. Für mich eine große Entdeckung!
July 26, 2018
The time it takes for a normal human being to mature completely is something that is still very relative and sometimes, can feel like a mirage. Growing up mentally is a tedious process, more for the body, the physical self, that becomes accustomed to its surrounding. The world outside is strange and weird, full of soul-crushing impediments.
Buchi Emecheta's Second-Class Citizen is a soul rendering growth of Adah Obi. Crushed by her own bigger family since an early age, her willingness to learn never fades. Nothing vouchsafes strength and power more than African women writers. This semi-autobiographical work emaciates the gap that is present between what we know and why we think it happens.
Buchi Emecheta's Second-Class Citizen is a soul rendering growth of Adah Obi. Crushed by her own bigger family since an early age, her willingness to learn never fades. Nothing vouchsafes strength and power more than African women writers. This semi-autobiographical work emaciates the gap that is present between what we know and why we think it happens.
October 31, 2023
Eigentlich ist es gar nicht zu glauben, was Emecheta hier autobiografisch beschreibt.
Ihr Leben in den 60ern in England nach der Emigration aus Nigeria als 18jährige mit einem Ehemann, der sie schlägt, schwängert, schlägt, schwängert...bis in einem zugigen, kalten, mottenverseuchten Einraum-Kabuff in Randlondon fünf Kinder mit ihren sich verachtenden Eltern leben, die aber, bedingt durch ihre nigerianischen Igbu-Prägungen keine anderen Lebensformen gelernt haben und in England freilich am Rand der Gesellschaft stehen und wenig verdienen, obwohl gerade Adah/Buchi in Nigeria studiert hatte.
Neben ihrer Kinderbetreuung schmeißt sie natürlich noch den Haushalt, lässt sich abendlich vergewaltigen, hört sich im Haus die Fiesheiten der Yoruba-Exilanten und auf der Straße die der Briten an, geht Vollzeit arbeiten und schreibt schließlich in den Morgenstunden vor dem Malochen ihren ersten Roman und schafft es trotzdem, dass ihre Bekannten sie für einen stets fröhlichen Menschen halten. Das ist alles ganz unfassbar.
Wollen wir über unsere Sorgen und Probleme sprechen?
Die Kunst liegt nicht in der Sprache. Die ist ganz einfach, parataktisch, unprätentiös. Die Offenheit des Bekenntnisses über ihre Situation und über ihre vielfache Prägung (Afrika, Nigeria, Igbo, Frau, England, Rassismus, Klassismus, Sexismus, Zeugen Jehova, Verhütung, aber auch innernigerianische Konflikte) machen dieses Buch zu einem psychologischen Steinbruch, aus dem jeder interessierte Leser die Brocken nehmen kann, um daraus sein Verständnis für die Welt zu zimmern.
Ich fands krass und geil und hart fies. Aber vor allem schonungslos. Und man fiebert bis zum Ende mit, dass Adah da rauskommt.
Kommt sie?
(Übrigens liest sie eines Tages James Baldwin und in dem Moment konnte ich endlich erleichtert aufatmen.)
Ihr Leben in den 60ern in England nach der Emigration aus Nigeria als 18jährige mit einem Ehemann, der sie schlägt, schwängert, schlägt, schwängert...bis in einem zugigen, kalten, mottenverseuchten Einraum-Kabuff in Randlondon fünf Kinder mit ihren sich verachtenden Eltern leben, die aber, bedingt durch ihre nigerianischen Igbu-Prägungen keine anderen Lebensformen gelernt haben und in England freilich am Rand der Gesellschaft stehen und wenig verdienen, obwohl gerade Adah/Buchi in Nigeria studiert hatte.
Neben ihrer Kinderbetreuung schmeißt sie natürlich noch den Haushalt, lässt sich abendlich vergewaltigen, hört sich im Haus die Fiesheiten der Yoruba-Exilanten und auf der Straße die der Briten an, geht Vollzeit arbeiten und schreibt schließlich in den Morgenstunden vor dem Malochen ihren ersten Roman und schafft es trotzdem, dass ihre Bekannten sie für einen stets fröhlichen Menschen halten. Das ist alles ganz unfassbar.
Wollen wir über unsere Sorgen und Probleme sprechen?
Die Kunst liegt nicht in der Sprache. Die ist ganz einfach, parataktisch, unprätentiös. Die Offenheit des Bekenntnisses über ihre Situation und über ihre vielfache Prägung (Afrika, Nigeria, Igbo, Frau, England, Rassismus, Klassismus, Sexismus, Zeugen Jehova, Verhütung, aber auch innernigerianische Konflikte) machen dieses Buch zu einem psychologischen Steinbruch, aus dem jeder interessierte Leser die Brocken nehmen kann, um daraus sein Verständnis für die Welt zu zimmern.
Ich fands krass und geil und hart fies. Aber vor allem schonungslos. Und man fiebert bis zum Ende mit, dass Adah da rauskommt.
Kommt sie?
(Übrigens liest sie eines Tages James Baldwin und in dem Moment konnte ich endlich erleichtert aufatmen.)
September 18, 2022
Reseña en dos minutos y al dictado
La verdad es que he disfrutado leyendo este libro. Lo que yo suponía que iba a ser una visión del mundo racista de los blancos hacia los negros en la Inglaterra de hace 50 años... ha acabado siendo una obra escrita con muchísimo desparpajo y sentido del humor (aunque la historia tenga poco de comedia) donde la autora nos cuenta la adquisición de una nueva forma de vida, lejos de todo lo que había aprendido en su Nigeria natal y en su tribu, hasta convertirse en una mujer independiente.
P.S. Este libro lo he leído en el contexto de mi viaje al mundo con un grupo de personas. El país elegido para julio fue Nigeria pero la obra elegida ya la había leído así que me decanté por leer la finalista de las votaciones. Y no me arrepiento.
La verdad es que he disfrutado leyendo este libro. Lo que yo suponía que iba a ser una visión del mundo racista de los blancos hacia los negros en la Inglaterra de hace 50 años... ha acabado siendo una obra escrita con muchísimo desparpajo y sentido del humor (aunque la historia tenga poco de comedia) donde la autora nos cuenta la adquisición de una nueva forma de vida, lejos de todo lo que había aprendido en su Nigeria natal y en su tribu, hasta convertirse en una mujer independiente.
P.S. Este libro lo he leído en el contexto de mi viaje al mundo con un grupo de personas. El país elegido para julio fue Nigeria pero la obra elegida ya la había leído así que me decanté por leer la finalista de las votaciones. Y no me arrepiento.
March 27, 2019
I picked up a copy of this book because of my regularly refreshed familiarity with the contents of 500 Great Books By Women. I have also seen Emecheta's name crop up in other officiated channels, and the generally positive reviews reassured me that this particular acting on a whim had a good chance of being worth it. However, I'm not longer at the stage where I need a bare bones anthropology narrative regarding a mid 20th century Nigerian's time in jolly old England, and Emechta's story, however tortuous, built up to a certain degree, stagnated, and then ended on a veritable cliffhanger where a reader couldn't really believe anything would change. I've read and found magnificent other crushing narratives, but those always had an extra bit of something to them, whether rhetorical oomph or gripping imagery, and this, barring a few surreal runs of events three quarters of the way in and just before the end, never really got past an almost dry litany of a person's life and choices and resulting misfortunes, albeit in a combination of character and country that I don't encounter much in my reading. For whatever reason, I was not inspired, and whether this is due to my own cynicism or understanding that such enthusiasm does little good in the long run remains to be seen.
The best part of this work was when Adah was a gangling child wrangling with life and death and education until she had the means the vision of her future to seeming fruition. Once her penultimate goal of expatriation was achieved, all of that went and stayed downhill for pretty much the rest of the narrative. While there was a brief burst of interesting material near the end, especially with the mentions of Nwapa and Baldwin, it was a story I'd heard before in a less than novel guise, and it grew onerous, despite the text's brevity, to continue on for so long in predictably agonizing circumstances. As said previously, it all ends so abruptly that one isn't left with much, if any, sense of closure, and with a narrative this short, it's almost vital to have something of that sort before moving on. Longer narratives can sometimes both benefit and suffer from a reader waiting for it to be over, but a novella is best as a brief yet pithy punctuation mark, and this dragged and then barely gave any sense of follow through. I understand that this is autobiographical, but I still feel I've read this narrative elsewhere in a more engaging format, and there are no quotes or notable events that bubble to mind to convince me otherwise.
This wasn't the most fortuitously spontaneous 500 GBBW pick up, but I've had too many rewarding experiences with the directory to start hesitating now. Not everyone's going to have my above average (for an Anglo White who's never stepped outside the US, at least) experience with Nigerian/postcolonial expatriation narratives, and so their introduction will not have so many previous remembrances dangling in the background. As such, this is not the book for me, but it has a good chance of being the book for other,s so I will be glad to send it on its way to a possibly fortunate college student (my copy has a used textbook sticker on its spine). Looking back at the year thus far, I've either rounded or am rapidly approaching the curve of halfway through my challenge reads, and I'm looking forward to engaging with two group reads next month that happen to be concerned with two as of yet so far unread challenge books. For now, though, I have another book selection to ferret out that, hopefully, will make for an experience that fits in better with its rave reviews.
The best part of this work was when Adah was a gangling child wrangling with life and death and education until she had the means the vision of her future to seeming fruition. Once her penultimate goal of expatriation was achieved, all of that went and stayed downhill for pretty much the rest of the narrative. While there was a brief burst of interesting material near the end, especially with the mentions of Nwapa and Baldwin, it was a story I'd heard before in a less than novel guise, and it grew onerous, despite the text's brevity, to continue on for so long in predictably agonizing circumstances. As said previously, it all ends so abruptly that one isn't left with much, if any, sense of closure, and with a narrative this short, it's almost vital to have something of that sort before moving on. Longer narratives can sometimes both benefit and suffer from a reader waiting for it to be over, but a novella is best as a brief yet pithy punctuation mark, and this dragged and then barely gave any sense of follow through. I understand that this is autobiographical, but I still feel I've read this narrative elsewhere in a more engaging format, and there are no quotes or notable events that bubble to mind to convince me otherwise.
This wasn't the most fortuitously spontaneous 500 GBBW pick up, but I've had too many rewarding experiences with the directory to start hesitating now. Not everyone's going to have my above average (for an Anglo White who's never stepped outside the US, at least) experience with Nigerian/postcolonial expatriation narratives, and so their introduction will not have so many previous remembrances dangling in the background. As such, this is not the book for me, but it has a good chance of being the book for other,s so I will be glad to send it on its way to a possibly fortunate college student (my copy has a used textbook sticker on its spine). Looking back at the year thus far, I've either rounded or am rapidly approaching the curve of halfway through my challenge reads, and I'm looking forward to engaging with two group reads next month that happen to be concerned with two as of yet so far unread challenge books. For now, though, I have another book selection to ferret out that, hopefully, will make for an experience that fits in better with its rave reviews.
April 6, 2021
This is my first Emecheta book and I think it’s safe to say I’m obsessed with her and I look forward to reading more of her books.
Second class citizen is such an important book because of how Emecheta overtly addresses intersectionality. Adah Obi is a second class citizen in her own country because of her gender and one in England because of her skin color, gender and immigrant status!
I loved reading this one and Emecheta is a brilliant writer.
Second class citizen is such an important book because of how Emecheta overtly addresses intersectionality. Adah Obi is a second class citizen in her own country because of her gender and one in England because of her skin color, gender and immigrant status!
I loved reading this one and Emecheta is a brilliant writer.
November 15, 2022
Violento. Em uma sociedade em que exalta o homem e seu poder nada restaria para as mulheres. São apenas cidadãs de segunda classe tentando vencer a todo custo o machismo e a misoginia impregnada no mundo. O livro fica ainda mais pesado quando você descobre que é autobiográfico. A cada capítulo fica mais violento e absurdo. Homem é a escória do mundo mesmo.
June 29, 2017
This was a great read, I really enjoyed this book. I love the characters as well as the story line. One of the quotes I got from this book is
' A man who treated his mother like shit would always treat his wife like a shit'
I believe this to be true because I have come across it. It shows how life is like in Nigeria as a woman and what some of them went through by having hard times living by the rules.
' A man who treated his mother like shit would always treat his wife like a shit'
I believe this to be true because I have come across it. It shows how life is like in Nigeria as a woman and what some of them went through by having hard times living by the rules.
January 12, 2019
... os homens nunca estão errados, só as mulheres; elas tem de pedir perdão pois são compradas, seu preço é pago, e é assim que elas devem permanecer, escravas silenciosas e obedientes. (Típica psicologia igbo)
Read
July 11, 20227.5/10
June 15, 2018
Second Class Citizen refers not only to Adah's status as a Nigerian immigrant in 1970s England but also as a woman in a traditional culture who refuses to comply with conventional gender roles. From the onset of the book, we see Adah defy the implicit rules that define her cultural standing when she leaves her house at the age of five to attend school without telling her parents. The incident almost lands her mother in jail for neglect but Adah is granted her wish: not only to attend school but to go to the fancy school where her brother Boy goes. This early scene plays itself out again and again throughout the book as Adah faces numerous emotional, social, and economic challenges both in her personal life with an Ibo man she marries who lacks drive and resents his wife's ambition to the point of physical and emotional abuse and in her migration to England where she faces racism and sexism on a daily basis.
Yet the book is not completely dreary. For one, despite the challenges Adah faces there are always aspects of her life that she is grateful for --her love of learning and of satisfying work, her love for her children even when she is overwhelmed by having 3 very young children with a man who is an absent father and who cannot financially provide for them, and her eventual awakening to become a writer. I do wish her dreams of being a writer were threaded earlier on in the novel as it suddenly becomes part of the plot to leave her husband who increasingly becomes a tyrant and abuser. Secondly, there is a craftiness to Adah that is highly appealing. She is able to manipulate situations to her advantage and while this may ostensibly be unethical if one manipulates to have power over others but in her situation it is what women have been doing for centuries in order to make something of themselves by breaking with tradition.
Some of the most horrific parts of the book also display her strongest skill as as a writer, descriptive passages with a high level of emotional intensity that never becomes sentimental or melodramatic, particularly in dealing with her body as the space where the public and private intersect. throughout a good portion of the book, Adah is pregnant or trying to avoid becoming pregnant; she is often raped by Francis or provides him with sex so she can do other things (the latter kind of behavior is not deviant but what women do when confined to particular situations where they have little control). Social prohibitions around birth control including abortions but also something as benign as trying to use a diaphragm take on larger dimensions as she faces humiliating circumstances to acquire birth control only to have her husband find out and tell his family back in Nigeria so that she is shamed for wanting control over her own body. She is also shamed by her obstetrician, also an immigrant who while somewhat sympathetic to her plight must abide by the patriarchal dictates of Francis and the social mores of England. Other heart-breaking scenes involve being denied a place to live by white landlords not only because they are black but also because they had children and ending up in a run down house owned by a Nigerian and his Anglo wife. The lack of any kind of support or advocacy groups or legal retribution for that matter is difficult to imagine even though I'm sure this kind of discrimination still continues.
Yet the book is not completely dreary. For one, despite the challenges Adah faces there are always aspects of her life that she is grateful for --her love of learning and of satisfying work, her love for her children even when she is overwhelmed by having 3 very young children with a man who is an absent father and who cannot financially provide for them, and her eventual awakening to become a writer. I do wish her dreams of being a writer were threaded earlier on in the novel as it suddenly becomes part of the plot to leave her husband who increasingly becomes a tyrant and abuser. Secondly, there is a craftiness to Adah that is highly appealing. She is able to manipulate situations to her advantage and while this may ostensibly be unethical if one manipulates to have power over others but in her situation it is what women have been doing for centuries in order to make something of themselves by breaking with tradition.
Some of the most horrific parts of the book also display her strongest skill as as a writer, descriptive passages with a high level of emotional intensity that never becomes sentimental or melodramatic, particularly in dealing with her body as the space where the public and private intersect. throughout a good portion of the book, Adah is pregnant or trying to avoid becoming pregnant; she is often raped by Francis or provides him with sex so she can do other things (the latter kind of behavior is not deviant but what women do when confined to particular situations where they have little control). Social prohibitions around birth control including abortions but also something as benign as trying to use a diaphragm take on larger dimensions as she faces humiliating circumstances to acquire birth control only to have her husband find out and tell his family back in Nigeria so that she is shamed for wanting control over her own body. She is also shamed by her obstetrician, also an immigrant who while somewhat sympathetic to her plight must abide by the patriarchal dictates of Francis and the social mores of England. Other heart-breaking scenes involve being denied a place to live by white landlords not only because they are black but also because they had children and ending up in a run down house owned by a Nigerian and his Anglo wife. The lack of any kind of support or advocacy groups or legal retribution for that matter is difficult to imagine even though I'm sure this kind of discrimination still continues.
March 20, 2020
Second-Class Citizen covers surprising topics for its era. This is the sort of fictional writing that should be hailed alongside Chinua Achebe and Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o in high school curricula. I’ve always wondered about African women fiction writers of that period and it’s always so heartening to find them out now. -It’s never too late to start reading their bodies of work.-
We commence by quickly identifying with Adah and her relentless desire for all forms literacy; first formal education and later reproductive enlightenment.
This theme carries the book. -I was frequently shook at the decisions Adah had to determine for herself amidst various forms of torture.-
An unlikely thread in this text is the changes in worship. What worship looked like to Adah and her relatives back in Nigeria transitions into a new worship when Adah and her children arrive in London and continues to transition as Francis takes to being a JW devotee.
-There is a paragraph where Adah describes her unique connection to prayer and a scattered few where she derides Biblical zealots, more especially her husband Francis, *very enjoyable stuff*.-
Adah comes of age with a lot of troubles and with a style so unfettered, demanding release from bondage. Second-Class Citizen reflects emotionally true to the kind of biographical read Emecheta’s introducing us to; the story of second-caliber humans.
We commence by quickly identifying with Adah and her relentless desire for all forms literacy; first formal education and later reproductive enlightenment.
This theme carries the book. -I was frequently shook at the decisions Adah had to determine for herself amidst various forms of torture.-
An unlikely thread in this text is the changes in worship. What worship looked like to Adah and her relatives back in Nigeria transitions into a new worship when Adah and her children arrive in London and continues to transition as Francis takes to being a JW devotee.
-There is a paragraph where Adah describes her unique connection to prayer and a scattered few where she derides Biblical zealots, more especially her husband Francis, *very enjoyable stuff*.-
Adah comes of age with a lot of troubles and with a style so unfettered, demanding release from bondage. Second-Class Citizen reflects emotionally true to the kind of biographical read Emecheta’s introducing us to; the story of second-caliber humans.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 8, 2017
I actually gave her one star only out of appreciation to her effort and attempt of writing.
As interesting as such feminist story can be, a story of self realization out of determination and suffering. Yet, I still see the text lakes the writing sparkling talent. Buchi was a great woman no doubt about it, it's obvious that the story is autobiographical, yet she failed to put on a cohesive texte. We kept on rotating around the bad husband that she should get ride of for almost half of the book. Besides ,The ending of the book was incomprehensible for me.
I believed that the book was quite sincere, and maybe that what made it successful, yet the writing did not establish the satisfactory climx or any kind of closure.
As interesting as such feminist story can be, a story of self realization out of determination and suffering. Yet, I still see the text lakes the writing sparkling talent. Buchi was a great woman no doubt about it, it's obvious that the story is autobiographical, yet she failed to put on a cohesive texte. We kept on rotating around the bad husband that she should get ride of for almost half of the book. Besides ,The ending of the book was incomprehensible for me.
I believed that the book was quite sincere, and maybe that what made it successful, yet the writing did not establish the satisfactory climx or any kind of closure.
November 20, 2021
triste foi apenas triste
August 27, 2022
Bleak and horrific with bursts of hilarious inner monologues. So many layers of social and psychological issues are addressed.
June 16, 2024
ler um livro como esse, que tem a habilidade de não só tocar como abordar profundamente o efeito que classe, raça, nacionalidade, gênero (mais que tudo) têm na vida íntima e nas relações interpessoais de todos é refrescante. inacreditável que esse livro tenha sido escrito em 1974 e continue tão atual e urgente.
tirei uma estrela só por um fator: a leitura vai ficando arrastadinha quando se encaminha ao final.
tirei uma estrela só por um fator: a leitura vai ficando arrastadinha quando se encaminha ao final.
August 29, 2021
Gostei da leitura. senti muita raiva pelo sofrimento da Adah com o machismo, violência e racismo. O final, embora previsível, me devastou.
May 6, 2019
IMPOSSÍVEL não devorar os livros dessa deusa
May 7, 2022
Insightful, affecting, witty -- might be the best book ever written? Definitely a new favourite.
November 7, 2015
I had to bear with the first couple of chapters as they read a bit like a summary, but once she gets to chapter three things really kick into gear.
This book really made me think about my cultural assumptions and question them. The big theme here is the relationship between citizen and state. To an extent I agree with her in finding the level of the UK's involvement in private life to be bizarre. I know people who have social workers involved in the care of their children and they never question whether or not this is healthy. On the other hand, I never question that the NHS is a good thing so found the bit where she wants to pay more for her health care very thought provoking. Whether or not you agree with her really isn't important though; it's the outsider's view and your questioning that's important. There's a great passage where she compares Nigerian and English churches:
“London, having thus killed Adah's congregational God, created instead a personal God who looked large and really alive”
and you realise that she's also talking about the citizen and the state. In Nigeria you commonly have extended families who work together congregationally to resolve problems. In Britain it's relatively common not to have functioning extended families and so the state acts to replace that function where poverty causes it to be become a problem.
Clever stuff, and all told with a wry, dark humour.
In the Ditch was published first, but chronologically takes place after Citizen. I read them in publication order and it really wasn't a problem, though Ditch does have a spoiler of Citizen's climax.
This book really made me think about my cultural assumptions and question them. The big theme here is the relationship between citizen and state. To an extent I agree with her in finding the level of the UK's involvement in private life to be bizarre. I know people who have social workers involved in the care of their children and they never question whether or not this is healthy. On the other hand, I never question that the NHS is a good thing so found the bit where she wants to pay more for her health care very thought provoking. Whether or not you agree with her really isn't important though; it's the outsider's view and your questioning that's important. There's a great passage where she compares Nigerian and English churches:
“London, having thus killed Adah's congregational God, created instead a personal God who looked large and really alive”
and you realise that she's also talking about the citizen and the state. In Nigeria you commonly have extended families who work together congregationally to resolve problems. In Britain it's relatively common not to have functioning extended families and so the state acts to replace that function where poverty causes it to be become a problem.
Clever stuff, and all told with a wry, dark humour.
In the Ditch was published first, but chronologically takes place after Citizen. I read them in publication order and it really wasn't a problem, though Ditch does have a spoiler of Citizen's climax.
January 7, 2018
"She, who only a few months previously would have accepted nothing but the best, had by now been conditioned to accept inferior things."
My partner bought me this book as part of our Christmas book challenge. A slight Jólabókaflóðið rip off, we picked countries out of a hat and bought books for the other based on the country we picked. I got Israel, my boyfriend got Nigeria. Second Class Citizen was my Christmas Eve book!
Buchi Emecheta is considered by many to be the a "pioneer among female African writers." Born in Lagos, she came to the UK in the 1960s. She published many books, including Second Class Citizen, including In the Ditch and The Joys of Motherhood. Writers such as Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie have spoken of their admiration for Emecheta. She died in January 2017.
I, rather shamefully, had never heard of Emecheta until I read this book. I'll be making an effort to read more of her stuff from now on.
Second Class Citizen is semi-autobiographical. It tells the story of Adah, a Nigerian woman who comes to the UK to seek a new a life. It's the 1960s and her illusions are shattered pretty quickly when she's confronted with the racism and classism of 1960s England. On top of that she has to deal with her abusive husband who regards Adah's thirst for independence as something shameful. The parallels with Emecheta's life are obvious.
This is a sad but brilliant book that's still relevant in 2018 even though it was published in the 1970s. Adah is a brilliant character and I wish Emecheta had written more about her. There are moments when you literally want to climb inside the book and fight on her behalf. I’m glad this was my first book of 2018.
My partner bought me this book as part of our Christmas book challenge. A slight Jólabókaflóðið rip off, we picked countries out of a hat and bought books for the other based on the country we picked. I got Israel, my boyfriend got Nigeria. Second Class Citizen was my Christmas Eve book!
Buchi Emecheta is considered by many to be the a "pioneer among female African writers." Born in Lagos, she came to the UK in the 1960s. She published many books, including Second Class Citizen, including In the Ditch and The Joys of Motherhood. Writers such as Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie have spoken of their admiration for Emecheta. She died in January 2017.
I, rather shamefully, had never heard of Emecheta until I read this book. I'll be making an effort to read more of her stuff from now on.
Second Class Citizen is semi-autobiographical. It tells the story of Adah, a Nigerian woman who comes to the UK to seek a new a life. It's the 1960s and her illusions are shattered pretty quickly when she's confronted with the racism and classism of 1960s England. On top of that she has to deal with her abusive husband who regards Adah's thirst for independence as something shameful. The parallels with Emecheta's life are obvious.
This is a sad but brilliant book that's still relevant in 2018 even though it was published in the 1970s. Adah is a brilliant character and I wish Emecheta had written more about her. There are moments when you literally want to climb inside the book and fight on her behalf. I’m glad this was my first book of 2018.
June 25, 2021
Un romanzo autobiografico che fa vedere la doppia difficoltà di essere un'immigrata nell'Inghilterra degli anni '60 e '70 e, soprattutto, di essere una donna sposata a un uomo pigro, incapace, che si è lasciato mantenere dalla moglie agli studi (mai portati a compimento) per anni, violento e fiero di metterla continuamente incinta, malgrado i tentativi di Adah di usare dei contraccettivi. Adah tenta tutte le strade - per se stessa e per i propri figli - per studiare, per ottenere un lavoro gratificante, di prima classe, così come le consentono i suoi studi, rifiutando di farsi considerare una cittadina di seconda classe solo a causa del colore della sua pelle, in un'Inghilterra che continua a fare ancora di tutte le erbe un fascio.
Chissà perché tutti giudicavano sempre un nero sulla base del comportamento di un altro nero? Ma alla gente come Mrs O' Brien non passava proprio mai per la mente che l'altra donna magari veniva dal Capo, mentre Adah veniva dal Corno d'Africa? Oppure, tanto era lo stesso, da Trinidad, Boston o addirittura Liverpool o Cardiff?
Quando uno è nero, tutti gli altri neri rientrano nella categoria della "sua gente". L'uomo che vendeva l'uccello di vetro a Crescent voleva che lei comperasse quell'uccello perché uno della "sua gente", un antillano, per l'appunto, ne aveva comperati sei il giorno prima.
Chissà perché tutti giudicavano sempre un nero sulla base del comportamento di un altro nero? Ma alla gente come Mrs O' Brien non passava proprio mai per la mente che l'altra donna magari veniva dal Capo, mentre Adah veniva dal Corno d'Africa? Oppure, tanto era lo stesso, da Trinidad, Boston o addirittura Liverpool o Cardiff?
Quando uno è nero, tutti gli altri neri rientrano nella categoria della "sua gente". L'uomo che vendeva l'uccello di vetro a Crescent voleva che lei comperasse quell'uccello perché uno della "sua gente", un antillano, per l'appunto, ne aveva comperati sei il giorno prima.
February 5, 2023
Adah, del pueblo igbo, es una niña que en el momento en que nació ya decepcionó a todo el mundo. Todos creían que iba a ser niño. Nadie se acordó de registrar su nacimiento. En “Ciudadana de segunda” nos encontramos la historia de Adah y la lucha por cumplir su sueño, irse a Reino Unido. Corren los años 60 del siglo XX,
El libro me ha resultado muy interesante. “Ciudadana de Segunda” es una novela que está inspirada en gran parte de la vida de la propia autora, Buchi Emecheta. Adah no lo tiene nada fácil. Aunque ella misma es una mujer muy independiente y desde bien jovencita encuentra trabajo como bibliotecaria debido a los tiempos que corren necesita casarse para poder seguir avanzando. Lo que en un primer momento parecía que iba a ser un matrimonio feliz, acaba convirtiéndose en su infierno personal.
A lo largo de las páginas de la novela vamos descubriendo el día a día de Adah en Reino Unido. Las penurias que tiene que vivir y lo que tiene que soportar de un marido que solamente la quiere para tener hijos y que no aporta nada más. Tiene pasajes bastante crudos donde puedes sentir la rabia de Adah.
Buchi Emecheta nos presenta una crítica muy directa al papel de la mujer negra e inmigrante en un país como Reino Unido en este caso. Pero la historia de Adah es la historia de muchas mujeres que se dejan la piel para sacar adelante a su familia.
Totalmente recomendado.
El libro me ha resultado muy interesante. “Ciudadana de Segunda” es una novela que está inspirada en gran parte de la vida de la propia autora, Buchi Emecheta. Adah no lo tiene nada fácil. Aunque ella misma es una mujer muy independiente y desde bien jovencita encuentra trabajo como bibliotecaria debido a los tiempos que corren necesita casarse para poder seguir avanzando. Lo que en un primer momento parecía que iba a ser un matrimonio feliz, acaba convirtiéndose en su infierno personal.
A lo largo de las páginas de la novela vamos descubriendo el día a día de Adah en Reino Unido. Las penurias que tiene que vivir y lo que tiene que soportar de un marido que solamente la quiere para tener hijos y que no aporta nada más. Tiene pasajes bastante crudos donde puedes sentir la rabia de Adah.
Buchi Emecheta nos presenta una crítica muy directa al papel de la mujer negra e inmigrante en un país como Reino Unido en este caso. Pero la historia de Adah es la historia de muchas mujeres que se dejan la piel para sacar adelante a su familia.
Totalmente recomendado.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 467 reviews