Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart is one of the most influential and important examples of world literature in the twentieth century, so we’re very excited to dig in over the next few weeks. In this episode, we’re talking about Achebe’s lovely prose, his high wire act protagonist-wise, how books like this can open our eyes, and much, much more. Oh—and this is one of those special episodes featuring all four of us. Happy listening!
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is about an immigrant family - from Ireland and Austria around the start of WWI. The characters are all white, but likely Sean cannot relate to them anyway.
But it is an American experience. We all came here through immigration, our ancestors sacrificed to give us a better future. Frannie’s life may not be identical to yours, but there are things that are similar.
I had tried to read this twice before. The first time I gave up after only a few pages. It was just too hard to get into and I didn't have a good frame of reference. The second time, earlier this year, I got further, but gave up right before the end of Part I. I think the episodic nature really alienated me and I didn't care much about the character and I didn't have a sense of where the story was going or what it was doing. This discussion has been so helpful in re-orienting me. I'm looking forward to finishing Part II and maybe going back to re-read Part I.
I have read some books that have been influenced by Achebe, like Chimamanda Adichie's novels, and I think the point you mentioned that Achebe was such a trailblazer, the first to write about Africa in English from an African point of view, that resonated with me and I think gives me a better sense of this novel's importance in establishing a literary tradition.
I'm also loving the comparison with the Iliad and wondering if perhaps the parallels between Okonkwo and Achilles are intentional on Achebe's part. In that sense, I find myself now thinking about Omeros, Derek Walcott's postmodernist retelling of the Iliad on the Caribbean island of St Lucia. Is Achebe invoking the Homeric tradition as a way to appeal to the European tradition and to make his novel relevant to white readers? Is it a move like Patrick Kavanah's lyric poem, Epic, in which he invokes Homer to justify writing poems about his rural, local concerns: "I made the Iliad from such
Such a helpful discussion! I too am drawn in by the writing and the world-building.
I didn’t know anything about this book before beginning it, and I felt pulled in almost immediately and have had a hard time putting it down! I hadn’t given this a thought until the podcast discussion about characters. I have to agree: there is not a lot of character development! Yet each event in the life of the village has built up in me a love and concern for the village, and the stakes have felt high. Perhaps this is because of that idea that the village is a character--the village is developed well--and Okonkwo and his family are representative of the village.
The sense of foreboding has also kept me hooked: the warnings about Ikemefuna, his death, and Okonkwo’s curse feel like a type of what’s to come for the village. I don’t know what is going to happen, but I have this sense of dread for the whole village!
Another reason the stakes have felt high and I care about the stakes is because of the human suffering. Chinua’s writing leaves no doubt that these people are real, and my heart aches with their suffering, particularly that the women. I’ve been so moved by Heidi’s comments on women over on the Kristin Lavransdatter episodes. Women are indeed vulnerable. And in this village where women are valued less than men and the culture is violent, I’m constantly afraid for the female characters. The lack of voice, high infant mortality, wife beating, twin abandonment, polygamy--I cannot imagine a life where all these things are just another day in the life. These things are quite literally my nightmares, and yet the women of Umuofia take it all as a matter of course--and seem to enjoy life! I’m astounded by the fortitude of these women, and I don’t know quite what to make of it.
So perhaps it’s the characterization of the village, the common human suffering, and the sense of dread that have me anxious to read the rest of the book and find out what happens!
Finally in Part 2 a man keeps Okonkwo in check - partly. I love the wisdom of his uncle!
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is about an immigrant family - from Ireland and Austria around the start of WWI. The characters are all white, but likely Sean cannot relate to them anyway.
Haha, nope–for better or worse, Francie's experience is definitely not my experience.
But it is an American experience. We all came here through immigration, our ancestors sacrificed to give us a better future. Frannie’s life may not be identical to yours, but there are things that are similar.
Read this about ten years ago. Your discussion made me pick it up again. Thank you!
I had tried to read this twice before. The first time I gave up after only a few pages. It was just too hard to get into and I didn't have a good frame of reference. The second time, earlier this year, I got further, but gave up right before the end of Part I. I think the episodic nature really alienated me and I didn't care much about the character and I didn't have a sense of where the story was going or what it was doing. This discussion has been so helpful in re-orienting me. I'm looking forward to finishing Part II and maybe going back to re-read Part I.
I have read some books that have been influenced by Achebe, like Chimamanda Adichie's novels, and I think the point you mentioned that Achebe was such a trailblazer, the first to write about Africa in English from an African point of view, that resonated with me and I think gives me a better sense of this novel's importance in establishing a literary tradition.
I'm also loving the comparison with the Iliad and wondering if perhaps the parallels between Okonkwo and Achilles are intentional on Achebe's part. In that sense, I find myself now thinking about Omeros, Derek Walcott's postmodernist retelling of the Iliad on the Caribbean island of St Lucia. Is Achebe invoking the Homeric tradition as a way to appeal to the European tradition and to make his novel relevant to white readers? Is it a move like Patrick Kavanah's lyric poem, Epic, in which he invokes Homer to justify writing poems about his rural, local concerns: "I made the Iliad from such
A local row. Gods make their own importance."
Such a helpful discussion! I too am drawn in by the writing and the world-building.
I didn’t know anything about this book before beginning it, and I felt pulled in almost immediately and have had a hard time putting it down! I hadn’t given this a thought until the podcast discussion about characters. I have to agree: there is not a lot of character development! Yet each event in the life of the village has built up in me a love and concern for the village, and the stakes have felt high. Perhaps this is because of that idea that the village is a character--the village is developed well--and Okonkwo and his family are representative of the village.
The sense of foreboding has also kept me hooked: the warnings about Ikemefuna, his death, and Okonkwo’s curse feel like a type of what’s to come for the village. I don’t know what is going to happen, but I have this sense of dread for the whole village!
Another reason the stakes have felt high and I care about the stakes is because of the human suffering. Chinua’s writing leaves no doubt that these people are real, and my heart aches with their suffering, particularly that the women. I’ve been so moved by Heidi’s comments on women over on the Kristin Lavransdatter episodes. Women are indeed vulnerable. And in this village where women are valued less than men and the culture is violent, I’m constantly afraid for the female characters. The lack of voice, high infant mortality, wife beating, twin abandonment, polygamy--I cannot imagine a life where all these things are just another day in the life. These things are quite literally my nightmares, and yet the women of Umuofia take it all as a matter of course--and seem to enjoy life! I’m astounded by the fortitude of these women, and I don’t know quite what to make of it.
So perhaps it’s the characterization of the village, the common human suffering, and the sense of dread that have me anxious to read the rest of the book and find out what happens!