Discovering Maame: A Flawed Journey Through the Twenties
When I first heard about "Maame" by Jessica George, I was intrigued. The book promised a glimpse into the life of a 25-year-old Ghanaian woman, Maame, juggling the complexities of caring for her father with Parkinson’s, navigating friendships, and grappling with her own formative experiences. In a world filled with coming-of-age stories, I was drawn to how this one would uniquely resonate against a cultural backdrop. However, my reading journey turned out to be more of a tumult than I anticipated.
The narrative centers around Maddie (Maame), whose life feels like a series of stumbling blocks rather than a smooth path of growth. The plot delves into her overwhelming responsibilities, primarily her father’s illness and a somewhat distant mother. I appreciate that George sought to tackle heavier themes like family obligation and coming into one’s own, but as I turned the pages, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maddie felt painfully naive and immature for her age, sometimes reading more like a young adult character rather than an adult trying to forge connections and understand herself.
My biggest frustration with the book was Maddie’s incessant reliance on Google for life advice. Here’s a character who’s supposed to be in her mid-twenties, yet she spends so much time searching for the answers to simple adult questions—like “Should You Knock on the Door of A New Flatmate?” or “How to prepare for a first date”—that I found myself questioning whether this was an authentic reflection of her character or a gimmick that fell flat. It often felt more like a poorly delivered punchline than an insightful exploration. Did George intend for this to be humorously relatable? Instead, it felt like Maddie’s internal monologue stunted her growth and, by extension, my connection to her journey.
The writing style, unfortunately, added to my frustration. With prose that leaned heavily on a conversational tone—occasionally bordering on the mundane—the emotional depth I seek in literary fiction was missing. The fourth-wall breaks felt jarring at times, as if Maddie’s thoughts were not fully formed and were merely hovering on the surface of deeper issues.
Maddie’s relationships also highlighted her lack of maturity and understanding of complex topics such as bisexuality, which felt particularly unconvincing. Rather than serving as an illustrative growth arc, her interactions often led to moments that were awkward, cringe-worthy, or even ignorant. For instance, her discomfort with a male love interest’s bisexuality coupled with her question to a friend about the distinction between sexuality categories seemed more uninformed than an exploration of her growing self-awareness.
In summation, while “Maame” has moments that shine, the execution often left me wanting. Readers looking for an authentic portrayal of navigating adult life through familial and personal struggles may find value in Maddie’s story, but I cannot help but think it misses the mark in substantial ways. Despite my disappointment, the book presents a landscape where cultural expectations and personal growth are entangled, inviting reflection on these universal struggles. It certainly resonated with me in terms of what it means to feel lost in your twenties, but more as a cautionary tale than a guide.
If you’re curious about a story that wrestles with the complexities of familial obligations and inner turmoil, give "Maame" a try. Just be ready for a journey laden with unsteady steps toward self-acceptance, albeit with a protagonist who might occasionally leave you shaking your head in disbelief. I’m still pondering how much of this journey I can relate to, but like many of us, Maddie’s struggle is genuine, even if her execution leaves room for growth.