My Africa book streak has continued, and I finally picked up Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible. I enjoyed her writing early this year in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, but hadn't ventured into her fiction. Poisonwood is gripping, from start to finish; I eagerly devoured it. At first, I felt a little nervous about Kingsolver's ability to maintain 5 distinct voices and narrators throughout the the novel (after all, my version is 649 pages long). My fears were unfounded: the girls and Orleanna are all fully delineated, believable, consistent, lifelike...when the parrot Methusaleh is released and dies, I felt the weight of the book's prophecy and tone. The simple, perfect parable of caging an animal, raising it domesticated, and then releasing it into the wild portrays the evils of colonialism so perfectly. The deliberate, malicious thoughtlessness in this act, along with that inherent in colonialism, reminded me of the US' current situation in Iraq. US forces toppled Saddam, who didn't much take care of his own country anyway, ran the country into the ground while exploiting its resources and playing factions of the population off one another for our gain - and now we are just going to leave. We haven't learned our lessons as a nation. There are still naysayers, just as the Prices record Americans at home not understanding the CIA's role in Mobutu's reign. We are unwilling to believe our own complicity. There is no accountability for cleaning up one's own messes. There is no peace love and equality - just exploitation of other people.
Kingsolver's book resonated with me in other ways, aside from validating my master's classes on the horrors of colonialism and, well, neo-colonialism and imperialism. Leah speaks to marriage as well, speaking of hers to Anatole: "Our union has been difficult for both of us in the long run, but what union isn't? Marriage is one long fit of compromise, deep and wide. There is always one agenda swallowing another, one squeaky wheel crying out. But hasn't our life together meant more to the world than either of us could have meant alone?" I think this is a lovely summation of the goal of marriage, one I aspire to. It's not that I couldn't survive without Emile. But I am better for being with him.
I found the character of Adah so compelling, and I admit to being drawn to her over the other girls, even though I think others would place me closer to Leah. After everything, she admits,"The power is in the balance: we are our injuries, as much as we are our successes." Injuries - not failures - a much kinder way to frame our attempts and lives.
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