As we come to the end of China Achebe’s novel, we’re discussing whether it ends in a satisfying fashion, contemplating the POV shift in the final chapter, and thinking about the complex role of both the Church and the civil authorities that infiltrate the villages as the story comes to an end.
I didn’t find the book dark at all and in fact because of some people’s comments I approached it tentatively. But I found this to be such a beautiful book. And I’m with Tim - I had a slow clap going on when the outcasts were in the church and the pastor’s like “No, this is exactly where they belong.” This book really made me think and also try to consider - was there a way to help preserve the identity of the tribe while also keeping Christ and the gospel intact the center? I’m sure something church fathers have wrestled with since the beginning - what can we save from the culture and help preserve a relationship while acknowledging that the cross automatically creates enemies....such a challenge to think through.
I had no pre-conceived notions of this book, but I braced myself for something dark and was surprised by how deep and nuanced this novel is. I supposed that it would be well worth reading since you chose it for the show, but I was truly blown away.
As to the ending, there are so many reasons for the shift in perspective, but one that holds a lot of power for me is that the story, indeed the history of the village has been taken from them when the perspective shifts to the District Commissioner. His musing that he may devote a chapter, but on better thought, a paragraph to the man about whom the novel was written tears at my heart. The full, rich, storied life of that particular village has been reduced to a few lines and may in turn disappear entirely. The mastery of his writing brings home the tragedy of that loss.
Not sure if you address this quirk in full on the podcast. You did talk about Achebe's Faith, his mission. As far as I recall it was not mentioned that the narrator refers to "Our Lord" twice in the second paragraph of chapter 22. First person plural. Took me by surprise before learning from you all about his faith. What do you make of that?
I would like to read Death Comes for the Archbishop.
Now I really want to read the rest of the trilogy to see where Achebe takes the story.
As I read I kept thinking about another novel, The River and the Source, by Kenyan author Margaret Ogola, which I read a few years ago. I can see that Ogola's novel is very likely consciously patterned on Things Fall Apart, though it takes a different path. The protagonist of the first part of the novel is a strong woman, Akoko. She is beautiful, she marries a chief, and is prosperous at first, but then tragedies strike and eventually her husband dies. Her daughter, who has a very sad story with much heartache and rejection, meets missionaries and becomes Catholic and Akoko eventually follows her. The novel then follows her descendants through several generations into the modern era, I think it ends around the 1960s.
The contrasts are fascinating. Although the characters face much suffering overall the Christian faith is a net positive to them, though not everyone in the story embraces it. But Ogola certainly shows how Christianity has something to offer the outcast and downtrodden and women especially which the pagan tribal culture did not. Overall while some things are definitely lost and while there are still struggles against colonialism, it's a more hopeful story. I wonder how the parallels and contrasts would continue if I read the second two of Achebe's novels.
The ending definitely landed for me. As you said in the discussion, the entire novel pointed toward a tragic ending for Okonkwo. It couldn't have ended otherwise because he is a man who cannot back down but there's no way he can defeat the British Empire. I wasn't sure if he realized how massive the force was that he is up against, that war with the British is categorically different from war with another village or tribe. And that gap in his understanding I thought embodied the tragedy of colonialism: the people don't stand a chance, they're doomed. I thought the shift in point of view was masterful because if we'd perhaps lost sight of that terrible context, it put us back into the head of the colonizers to remind us.
I keep thinking of how this novel is a first, a trailblazer, a foundation for African literature in English. And how after taking us on a journey into the heart of Africa, the true heart, he pops us back into that foreign perspective-- and makes us see exactly how jarring and foreign it is.
Such a thought-provoking discussion! In regards to the distinction between missionaries and colonization, I recently learned about William Henry Sheppard who went to the Congo as a missionary during King Leopold II’s reign. The king wanted missionaries to “civilize” and industrialize the people (they were explicitly told not to focus on the gospel). It was missionaries like Sheppard who documented what was really going on in the Free State. Totally on the political side, but I’m reading Siddharth Kara’s book Cobalt Red on cobalt mining in the DRC and it’s been thought-provoking on what the contemporary strains of this conversation might look like.
Thanks for bringing up the “darkness”, David. I know you weren’t calling me out, but it’s also been lingering with me after finishing the book. And it feels like a pertinent question for me as a developing reader, and personally. Being challenged is part of why I read and listen, so I appreciated the discussion.
So knowing absolutely nothing about the book prior to picking it up, I didn’t have a single idea of what was coming in part two, and I kinda wish I hadn’t listened to the part one episode because I’m curious how the ending would have landed for me otherwise. The day-noo-MAHN (yep going there - I may barely know what it is but I know how to pronounce it and gotta take my wins where I can haha) and unraveling were certainly quick. As y’all were talking, I was reminded of the ending of Apocalypto (apparently the negative form of deus ex machina is diabolus ex machina?). Overall, I was struck by the objective journalistic style that was succinct yet elegant and by the abrupt shift of point of view to the colonists, in the person of the district commissioner, at the end.
There were hard things that happened in the first part where the style made hard to cope with as a reader, obviously and brilliantly intentional: the wife-beating, the killing of Ikemefuna (I gasped out loud upon reading it), the who-knows-what happening to Ezinma, and the allusions to demons, ie. spiritual darkness. So having no idea what was coming, yet feeling the tragedy of what Achebe is skillfully building toward, on top of what has already passed, stopping at part one felt dark in a “heavy” way, to Tim’s point. But it was premature and perhaps technically inaccurate for me to call it a dark book :)
I had a hard time seeing the goodness in the story because of these things, totally due to my own negative bent and struggle in coping with the brokenness and complexity of being human which I tend to feel deeply. I can say I was left with a sense of beauty after finishing the book, though I’m having trouble delineating it.
I didn’t find the book dark at all and in fact because of some people’s comments I approached it tentatively. But I found this to be such a beautiful book. And I’m with Tim - I had a slow clap going on when the outcasts were in the church and the pastor’s like “No, this is exactly where they belong.” This book really made me think and also try to consider - was there a way to help preserve the identity of the tribe while also keeping Christ and the gospel intact the center? I’m sure something church fathers have wrestled with since the beginning - what can we save from the culture and help preserve a relationship while acknowledging that the cross automatically creates enemies....such a challenge to think through.
Also, David I appreciate your reference to The Wasteland because it was on my mind throughout the ending as well.
I had no pre-conceived notions of this book, but I braced myself for something dark and was surprised by how deep and nuanced this novel is. I supposed that it would be well worth reading since you chose it for the show, but I was truly blown away.
As to the ending, there are so many reasons for the shift in perspective, but one that holds a lot of power for me is that the story, indeed the history of the village has been taken from them when the perspective shifts to the District Commissioner. His musing that he may devote a chapter, but on better thought, a paragraph to the man about whom the novel was written tears at my heart. The full, rich, storied life of that particular village has been reduced to a few lines and may in turn disappear entirely. The mastery of his writing brings home the tragedy of that loss.
Not sure if you address this quirk in full on the podcast. You did talk about Achebe's Faith, his mission. As far as I recall it was not mentioned that the narrator refers to "Our Lord" twice in the second paragraph of chapter 22. First person plural. Took me by surprise before learning from you all about his faith. What do you make of that?
I would like to read Death Comes for the Archbishop.
Loved having all four of you together, to bounce off each other into greater understanding for all of us.
I didn't like this book the first time I read it, but with y'all's help, now I like it very much.
Now I really want to read the rest of the trilogy to see where Achebe takes the story.
As I read I kept thinking about another novel, The River and the Source, by Kenyan author Margaret Ogola, which I read a few years ago. I can see that Ogola's novel is very likely consciously patterned on Things Fall Apart, though it takes a different path. The protagonist of the first part of the novel is a strong woman, Akoko. She is beautiful, she marries a chief, and is prosperous at first, but then tragedies strike and eventually her husband dies. Her daughter, who has a very sad story with much heartache and rejection, meets missionaries and becomes Catholic and Akoko eventually follows her. The novel then follows her descendants through several generations into the modern era, I think it ends around the 1960s.
The contrasts are fascinating. Although the characters face much suffering overall the Christian faith is a net positive to them, though not everyone in the story embraces it. But Ogola certainly shows how Christianity has something to offer the outcast and downtrodden and women especially which the pagan tribal culture did not. Overall while some things are definitely lost and while there are still struggles against colonialism, it's a more hopeful story. I wonder how the parallels and contrasts would continue if I read the second two of Achebe's novels.
The ending definitely landed for me. As you said in the discussion, the entire novel pointed toward a tragic ending for Okonkwo. It couldn't have ended otherwise because he is a man who cannot back down but there's no way he can defeat the British Empire. I wasn't sure if he realized how massive the force was that he is up against, that war with the British is categorically different from war with another village or tribe. And that gap in his understanding I thought embodied the tragedy of colonialism: the people don't stand a chance, they're doomed. I thought the shift in point of view was masterful because if we'd perhaps lost sight of that terrible context, it put us back into the head of the colonizers to remind us.
I keep thinking of how this novel is a first, a trailblazer, a foundation for African literature in English. And how after taking us on a journey into the heart of Africa, the true heart, he pops us back into that foreign perspective-- and makes us see exactly how jarring and foreign it is.
Such a thought-provoking discussion! In regards to the distinction between missionaries and colonization, I recently learned about William Henry Sheppard who went to the Congo as a missionary during King Leopold II’s reign. The king wanted missionaries to “civilize” and industrialize the people (they were explicitly told not to focus on the gospel). It was missionaries like Sheppard who documented what was really going on in the Free State. Totally on the political side, but I’m reading Siddharth Kara’s book Cobalt Red on cobalt mining in the DRC and it’s been thought-provoking on what the contemporary strains of this conversation might look like.
Thanks for bringing up the “darkness”, David. I know you weren’t calling me out, but it’s also been lingering with me after finishing the book. And it feels like a pertinent question for me as a developing reader, and personally. Being challenged is part of why I read and listen, so I appreciated the discussion.
So knowing absolutely nothing about the book prior to picking it up, I didn’t have a single idea of what was coming in part two, and I kinda wish I hadn’t listened to the part one episode because I’m curious how the ending would have landed for me otherwise. The day-noo-MAHN (yep going there - I may barely know what it is but I know how to pronounce it and gotta take my wins where I can haha) and unraveling were certainly quick. As y’all were talking, I was reminded of the ending of Apocalypto (apparently the negative form of deus ex machina is diabolus ex machina?). Overall, I was struck by the objective journalistic style that was succinct yet elegant and by the abrupt shift of point of view to the colonists, in the person of the district commissioner, at the end.
There were hard things that happened in the first part where the style made hard to cope with as a reader, obviously and brilliantly intentional: the wife-beating, the killing of Ikemefuna (I gasped out loud upon reading it), the who-knows-what happening to Ezinma, and the allusions to demons, ie. spiritual darkness. So having no idea what was coming, yet feeling the tragedy of what Achebe is skillfully building toward, on top of what has already passed, stopping at part one felt dark in a “heavy” way, to Tim’s point. But it was premature and perhaps technically inaccurate for me to call it a dark book :)
I had a hard time seeing the goodness in the story because of these things, totally due to my own negative bent and struggle in coping with the brokenness and complexity of being human which I tend to feel deeply. I can say I was left with a sense of beauty after finishing the book, though I’m having trouble delineating it.