Book Review: MAAME

Maame deftly explores under-serviced themes and experiences.

So, riding the wave of last week’s high of African Literature, I decided to read Maame by Jessica Geroge. There’s currently a lot of hype around this read and many people seemed to have enjoyed it. Unfortunately, I can’t honestly say the same (I contemplated not finishing about halfway in) but I persisted and do think there are things to appreciate about this book.

In Maame, we meet British Ghanaian Maddie- a 25-year-old, introverted, virgin who works in the arts and lives alone with her ailing father- for whom she is a primary caretaker. Maddie’s traditional and religious mother is tending to business in Ghana and her social butterfly brother is gallivanting around the UK as part of an entertainer’s entourage. Maddie alone, therefore, is burdened with the responsibility of providing daily care for her father. In the beginning, she’s pitched to us as awkward, lonely, and friendless (but actually has two best friends?). Eventually, her mother returns from Ghana to temporarily (or so she thought) relieve her of her caretaking duties in the hopes that Maddie gets more of a social life and finds a husband. Maddie takes the opportunity to move out and begins experimenting with nights out, dating, new clothes, and illicit substances.

Just as her new independent lifestyle is picking up steam- Maddie’s father dies suddenly.

From there, we follow the protagonist as she navigates grief, regret, job transitions, racism, microaggressions, situation-ships, flat-mate woes, capitalism, bad sex, obsessive googling, cultural displacement, panic attacks, depression, therapy- chile, basically anything you can think of was thrown at the reader and often exhaustingly so in my opinion. At certain points throughout the book, it felt less to me like I was being told a story and more like I was being trauma dumped on.

Although Maddie’s experiences were very relatable, as a reader, I struggled to connect emotionally with the character as Maddie’s core goal or gripe as a person was neglected in the midst of bombarding the reader with one seemingly disparate problem after the other.

The author relied on somewhat irritating (to me) ticks to characterize Maddie and move the narrative along- including showing us the internet forum discussions Maddie reads whenever she Googles something (and she Googles A LOT). The writing style was also more juvenile than what one would expect from a 25-year-old narrator and political issues like race were handled in flat, prescriptive ways- with characters unnaturally rattling off social-media-inspired talking points one after the other.

Despite all that, I found some things to appreciate in Maame:

The author's portrait of grief and the trauma of losing a parent was realistic, touching, and poignantly highlighted the identity displacement adult children feel when they can no longer identify as someone’s son or daughter. The narrative touched on the emotional withholding in African/black family dynamics and how that influences future connections and feelings of loneliness- something rarely discussed.

Maame also gave voice to how daughters are often burdened with responsibilities sons escape and offered many enjoyable insights into Ghanaian culture (Maame is Maddie’s Ghanian nickname which means “mother” or “woman” in Twi -a symbol of the adult, caretaking role she was forced to play in her family despite being the youngest child). The style, delivery, and length of Maame were not for me. However, it is a well-loved book, and understandably so because it deftly explores under-serviced themes and experiences that many people can relate to.

Rating: ★★