This is not an easy book. It is 600+ pages long, told from multiple perspectives and deals with extremely challenging themes in a way that does not pander to its audience. But it is rewarding. Just as the characters are changed and shaped by the challenging environments of post-colonial Congo, so too can the intrepid reader be rewarded with a fresh understanding of history, religion, even society as a whole.
The plot of ‘The Poisonwood Bible’ centres around a missionary family - father, mother and four daughters - moving from rural America to even more rural Congo on the cusp of independence from Belgium in 1959. The opening of the novel gives us a hint at the impending disaster, speaking to ‘you’ in the second person, although not quite to ‘you’ as the audience, “Away down below now, single file on the path, comes a woman with four girls in tow, all of them in shirtwaist dresses. Seen from above this way they are pale, doomed blossoms, bound to appeal to your sympathies.” These five will be our narrators, our guides through the jungles of Africa and into the heart of America. The arresting image of “doomed blossoms”, gives us an inkling of the danger that awaits them. And not much later on we learn the doom - the untimely death - that will meet one of the girls. Which one is the main mystery of the first two thirds of the novel, but in the end it is unimportant. More vital than the fall is the understanding of the fall, and, in that, their father is both actor and symbol. He is a man, a white man, a white religious man. Both literally and symbolically he controls the lives of these five women and it is his stubbornness that hastens the fall.
This is not an easy book. There are some big themes here, which are difficult to unpack. Colonialism looms large as each of the five women, and the father, take a different approach to navigating the inherent guilt of being not from a place but living there and, as a result, consciously or subconsciously, imposing your worldview on it. They are all flawed, but these flaws give us a clearer picture of the world than any beatific representation of a ‘good colonialist’ could. Religion is also a huge theme, and while not openly critical of organised religion, the book is clear in how it views dogmatic adherence to any belief as a deterrent to any real growth. We see this symbolised when the father tries to grow American seeds in African soil using American farming techniques. The seeds will not grow, the ideas will not take root, without some kind of adaptation to fit their local environment. Finally, feminism also plays an important part in understanding the novel. The feminism of 1960s America is interestingly and usefully compared and contrasted to that of traditional African societies. Having the story told through the lens of five women, while one man dominates their lives with his mere presence is also a thought-provoking narrative device.
Another facet of the narrative which could create difficulties is the distinctive voice of each of the narrators. They are deliberately challenging and idiosyncratic. But, for me, this adds to the enjoyment as each character feels distinct and unique. Like I said, this is not an easy book. But for any adventurous readers willing to take the plunge across the Kwilu River into deepest, darkest Congo, there are wonders to behold. *****Five Stars