Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe

Title: Things Fall Apart

Author: Chinua Achebe

Published: 1958

Type: Fiction

Pages: 209

Does the white man understand our custom about land? How can he when he does not even speak our tongue? But he says that our customs are bad; and our own brothers who have taken up his religion also say that our customs are bad. How do you think we can fight when our own brothers have turned against us? The white man is very clever. He came quietly and peaceably with his religion. We were amused at his foolishness and allowed him to stay. Now he has won our brothers, and our clan can no longer act like one. He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart.

In Brief:

I guess most people read this in high school? I didn't, but wish I did – definitely suited for that, though in a good way. Even now, it's insightful, masterful storytelling, a quick and engaging read 

Rating: 4.2

Synopsis:

Borrowing from Shmoop this time, since Goodreads’s summary was basically nothing:

“Though Okonkwo is a respected leader in the Umuofia tribe of the Igbo people, he lives in fear of becoming his father – a man known for his laziness and cowardice. Throughout his life, Okonkwo attempts to be his father’s polar opposite. From an early age, he builds his home and reputation as a precocious wrestler and hard-working farmer. Okonkwo’s efforts pay off big time and he becomes wealthy through his crops and scores three wives.

During a funeral, Okonkwo accidentally shoots and kills a boy. For his crime, the town exiles him for seven years to his mother’s homeland, Mbanta. There, he learns about the coming of the white missionaries whose arrival signals the beginning of the end for the Igbo people. They bring Christianity and win over Igbo outcasts as their first converts. As the Christian religion gains legitimacy, more and more Igbo people are converted. Just when Okonkwo has finished his seven-year sentence and is allowed to return home, his son Nwoye converts to Christianity. Okonkwo is so bent out of shape that he disowns his son.

Eventually, the Igbo attempt to talk to the missionaries, but the Christians capture the Igbo leaders and jail them for several days until the villagers cough up some ransom money. Contemplating revenge, the Igbo people hold a war council and Okonkwo is one of the biggest advocates for aggressive action. However, during the council, a court messenger from the missionaries arrives and tells the men to stop the meeting. Enraged, Okonkwo kills him. Realizing that his clan will not go to war against the white men, the proud, devastated Okonkwo hangs himself.”

Where I’m At:

I feel bad skipping this section twice in a row, but I can’t really think of anything relevant in my life that affecting the reading of this book, beyond the obvious (ie being white, being a woman, being educated with a very glossy version of imperialist history, etc). I nabbed it from a shelf at my parents’ house, and it sat on my own shelf for quite some time before I got around to reading it. That’s the challenge of being in multiple book clubs (though for now it’s only four, until my partner finishes his grad apps* and I can force him to read this book recommended by Ezra Klein with me) – very little time tor read books of my own choosing! 

Getting Into it:

First, I feel like I must say that I had absolutely NO IDEA this book was published in 1958 until I looked it up to fill in my little blurb up there. It has a quality of timelessness to it that probably goes a long way towards why it’s considered a classic. I also thought that it was more looking back on the period of African colonization, when in fact it was very much immediate. The fact that a book written by a Black, African man in the 50s gained so much worldwide acclaim is also remarkable – not that such a thing is so common now, but there has been some progress, and this was probably one of the first.

Useful information. I guess this is why people read it in high school. 

People also read it in high school because the ideas are pretty simple. Not to say they aren’t weighty, but they don’t hide too much behind complex literary devices or obscure metaphors. There’s a sharp critique of imperialism, evidenced by the quote I included above. It’s about generational divides, Okonkwo desperately trying to escape his father’s legacy, his own son trying to escape him. It’s about differences in cultural values and norms – the white reader might feel disgusted by the way women are treated in the Umuofia tribe, yet also disgusted by the way the missionaries treat the Igbo people as a whole, as less than human. There’s also pride, masculinity, emotional repression, tradition – again, heavy topics, but all very direct. Again, not a bad thing – it’s effective. You get the point. 

Similarly, though the characters were certainly flawed, they lacked nuance or growth. Yet, they somehow worked. On page thirteen, Achebe tells you basically everything you need to know about Okonkwo for the rest of the book:

Okonkwo ruled his house with a heavy hand. His wives, especially the youngest, lived in perpetual fear of his fiery temper, and so did his little children. Perhaps down in his heart Okonkwo was not a cruel man. But his whole life was dominated by fear, the fear of failure and of weakness. It was deeper and more intimate than the fear of evil and capricious gods and of magic, the fear of the forest, and of the forces of nature, malevolent, red in tooth and claw. Okonkwo’s fear was greater than these. It was not external but lay deep within himself. It was the fear of himself, lest he should be found to resemble his father.

Okonkwo is not a likable character. He’s cruel, stubborn, proud. Achebe does not try to make him that way. But by giving us this information upfront, we as the reader understand him, and can’t help but feel sympathy towards him, compelled by his tale.

But, certainly more than Okonkwo, what I liked most about the book was the writing style. Achebe’s prose was like his characters and themes – straightforward, simple, and powerful. There’s not a ton of flowery descriptions, he effectively creates a remarkably strong sense of place. 

The drums were still beating, persistent and unchanging. Their sound was no longer a separate thing from the living village. It was like the pulsation of its heart. It throbbed in the air, in the sunshine, and even in the trees, and filled the village with excitement. 

Furthermore, Achebe somehow translates his native Igbo into English in a way that still seems to maintain the spirit of the former. Obviously, I can’t know that, given that I don’t come anywhere remotely near speaking Igbo myself, but there’s a certain cadence of it that feels particular, the dialogue just different enough to make it clear that even if you’re reading it in English, that’s not the language of the speaker. In a more obvious way, Achebe liberally peppers the speech with proverbs, as is fitting for Igbo (according to my Googling).

“The market in Umuike is a wonderful place,” said the young man who had been sent by Obierika to buy the giant goat. “There are so many people on it that if you throw up a grain of sand it would not find a way to fall to earth again.”

So although I do still think this book is best suited for high schoolers (and recommend it thusly! It would be a beneficial addition to any curriculum), it’s a quick read and offers something for any reader. Glad I’ve caught up! 

*Yes, I’m at the point where I’ve resorted to publicly shaming him so he’ll turn them in on time/relieve my own anxiety about it.