I love to read. That's probably an understatement. I'm currently reading The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver for the second time. And man, it's doing hula-hoops around my brain. I love it. The book is so much better the second time through, because I understand so much more of the foreshadowing, plot, etc. because I already know how it's going to end. I think during the first read the suspense of the unknown killed me. But this go around I'm not worrying and wondering about the ending; instead, I'm diving deeper into the characters and the history, and the things I think Kingsolver was really trying to say when she wrote the book. And there's a lot. It's deep, really deep. I believe it's a book that will get better with each read, and maybe after I've read it 40 times I'll understand all there is to understand about it.
I'll tell you what though, when I'm finished reading Poisonwood Bible again, I have a strong urge to reread Heart of Darkness by Jospeh Conrad, and Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. I'd also really like to read King Leopold's Ghost by Adam Hochschild for the first time. There is so much African history that I either a.) don't understand all the way, or b.) Didn't know even happened.
The first time I read the book, I liked Leah and Adah best. I still like them, but this go around, I'm intrigued with Orleanna, the mother. I don't know if it's because in the first read I had no idea what she was talking about most of the time, that's probably it. Most all her entries seem to be from the end looking back, while the other girls written in the present, and so some of the things she's talking about haven't happened yet, so you don't realize she's talking about them until the second read. But what powerful insight she has about certain things.
"Fifteen years after it all happened, I sat by my radio in Atlanta listening to Senator Church and the special committee hearings on the Congo. I dug my nails into my palms till I'd pierced my own flesh. Where had I been? Somewhere else entirely? Of the coup, in August, I'm sure we'd understood nothing. From the next five months of Lumumba's imprisonment, escape, and recapture, I recall -- what? The hardships of washing and cooking in a drought. A humiliating event in the church, and rising contention in the village. Ruth May's illness, of course. And a shocking scrap with Leah, who wanted to go hunting with the men. I was occupied so entirely by each day, I felt detached from anything so large as a month or a year. History didn't cross my mind. Now it does. Now I know, whatever your burdens, to hold yourself apart from the lot of more powerful men is an illusion. On that awful day in January 1961, Lumumba paid with a life and so did I. On the wings of an owl the fallen Congo came to haunt even our little family, we messengers of goodwill adrift on a sea of mistaken intentions."
I love the whole chapter this except came from, but I'll only share this one paragraph. The language is beautiful like that through almost all of the book, but especially from the perspective of Orleanna. And I get what she's saying here...Sometimes we feel like so much is going on in our immediate day-to-day lives, that trying to comprehend what's going on on a larger scale seems impossible. Big history is made largely while most people are living their lives completely unaware of it. I feel that. I would love to pay attention, and know what's going on in the government, and the elections, etc right now. I'd love to feel like I had an informed opinion, and could vote wisely. But alongside the demanding day-to-day everything that goes on in my own household, the task of trying to untangle and figure out a twisty, slippery government seems daunting and unachievable. I wonder if I will look back at these days with the same regret that Orleanna feels? Once I find out the big picture years down the road. I don't know, but it's something worth thinking about.
No comments:
Post a Comment