Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, author of "Americanah." (Ivara Esege / Handout, Baltimore Sun / October 17, 2012)

It's fair to say that very few novels that devote 496 pages to such weighty themes as race in America ever crack The New York Times best-seller list.

But sure enough, there on the June 2 list for hardcover fiction was Columbia resident Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's "Americanah," alongside the perennially popular Dan Brown, Nora Roberts and George R.R. Martin.

True, "Americanah" technically ranked in the less-prestigious "also selling" category. And true, it occupied that spot for just one week. And true, the upsurge in sales coincided with a large spread in The Times' Sunday Book Review section.

But that's just being picky.

"Yes, I was very pleasantly surprised," Adichie says over the phone. "I quite like that 'Americanah' is in the company of more commercial authors. There's sometimes a very narrow idea about what a popular book should be."

As the 35-year-old writer has reason to know, context is everything. In the U.S. and in Great Britain, Adichie, who has picked up both a MacArthur Fellowship and the Orange Prize (given annually in London to the best fiction written that year by a woman) is known as a respected novelist who writes serious books about important social issues.

But in Adichie's native Nigeria, she's a rock star who sets fashion trends and is followed by fans on the street. Strangers name babies after her.

Her celebrity status can only increase this fall, with the release of the movie based on her novel "Half of a Yellow Sun," starring Chiwetel Ejiofor and Thandie Newton.

"I've seen the film, and it's very good," says the author, who will discuss her work Tuesday at the Enoch Pratt Free Library. "Halfway through, I found myself thinking, 'I wonder what will happen next.'

"I had to remind myself, 'Wait, I wrote the novel.' "

I'm glad you followed up your novel about the civil war in Nigeria with another project that's also strikingly unambitious and totally lightweight.

[Giggling] You've figured me out. I'm a major masochist.

I wanted to do many things with this novel. I wanted to take a look at America through Nigerian eyes. I wanted to write a love story, I wanted to write an ambitious novel of ideas. I've always loved "Middlemarch." It's about human beings, but it doesn't shy away from issues.

But I also wanted the book to be fun. I didn't want it to be like medicine that you have to take because it's good for you.

"Americanah" also is about hair. I read an opinion somewhere that in the U.S., black women obsess about their hair in the same way that white women obsess about their weight.

When I came to the U.S., I didn't understand why people always knew what they weighed. And I didn't understand why women who looked perfectly fine to me were convinced they were fat.

The difference is that when black women obsess about hair, it's not about getting it to look the best they can. It's about how to get it some way that it's not, which is as close to white hair as possible. That's true not just for African-Americans but for women throughout Africa.

I just wish we lived in a world where every type of hair in its natural state was considered beautiful.

The title of the novel means …

"Americanah" is a playful word in Nigeria. It refers to someone who has returned to Africa but who has American pretensions, like a fake American accent or who orders salads in restaurants. In Nigeria, we cook our vegetables.