The first part of Chinua Achebe's African trilogy is truly powerful and leaves an unforgettable impression.

Okonkwo, the protagonist, is not a character that one would immediately like. He is strong and ruthless, qualities that allow him to not only survive but also dominate in a harsh and unforgiving environment.

The book provides a memorable depiction of the way of life in a tribal society, along with some rather savage traditions. The women in this society have a difficult time, and the weak are often trampled upon. Many bad things occur as Okonkwo progresses through life, and he himself is responsible for doing unforgivable things to others.

The very same ruthlessness that enables him to thrive ultimately leads to his downfall. It is indeed hard to feel any sympathy for him. However, his story is so compelling that it makes one want to read it non-stop, in a single sitting.

Overall, this first part of the trilogy sets the stage for a deep exploration of the complex and often brutal world of the Igbo tribe, as seen through the eyes of Okonkwo.

Achebe's classic is indeed a quick and interesting read. The story unfolds in a captivating manner, drawing the reader in from the very beginning. However, it is important to note that the end is depressingly realistic. It leaves the reader with a sense of heaviness and a deep understanding of the harsh realities that exist in the world.

My curiosity has been piqued by this work, and it will most likely lead me to explore more of Achebe's writings. I found the narrative style to be engaging and easy to follow, which added to the overall enjoyment of the reading experience.

The ambiguities of cultural clash, with an obvious misbalance of power, are thought-provoking. The two different kinds of brutality that emerge in the conflict are not only painful to read but also serve as a reminder of the true horror that can occur in real life. Achebe's ability to bring these issues to light and make the reader reflect on them is a testament to his skill as a writer.

How to attempt a balanced review of Things Fall Apart:

1. The book is serious. Themes and issues dealt in the book are far more serious than many other books written by the contemporary authors of Achebe. It delves deep into the complex and often painful aspects of colonialism, cultural clash, and the breakdown of traditional societies.

2. The colonial abstract takes an altogether different turn as Achebe explores that colonisers not only colonised the land and properties but also the minds and hearts of the native people. This is a powerful and eye-opening perspective that forces the reader to confront the true nature of colonialism and its lasting impact.

3. Racism has been dealt very aptly and also religious hypocrisy - different churches for the people who have converted. Achebe's portrayal of these issues is both nuanced and thought-provoking, challenging the reader to question their own assumptions and beliefs.

4. The plot might seem relaxed and lazy (almost) if you ignore the themes and issues. However, the plot is more than enough to keep the readers engaged. It weaves together a rich tapestry of characters and events, drawing the reader in and keeping them hooked until the very end.

DO I recommend the book - yes, of course! It is a classic work of literature that offers valuable insights into the human condition and the forces that shape our world. Whether you are interested in history, culture, or simply a good story, Things Fall Apart is a must-read.

I don't know what to say.

Should I say something of the kind that the fruits of the novel are to define the peoples to each other and open up cultures to each other?

Should I say that the novel is of that kind which concerns an era that has passed and things that have become obsolete (as is clear from its title), especially in the context of the globalization that was founded by colonialism, which was able to erase cultures, remove the traces of peoples, and turn people into historical erasures?

I don't know what I can say.

Except that the title alone is sufficient to explain the novel in its entirety.

Reading this novel is a great adventure, and I think it is an adventure that one should undertake.

It takes the reader on a journey through different times and cultures, making them aware of the rich tapestry of human history.

The story is engaging and the characters are well-developed, making it a truly enjoyable read.

Overall, I would highly recommend this novel to anyone who is interested in history, culture, or just a good story.

“(…) does not understand our customs, just as we do not understand his. We say he is stupid because he does not understand the way we live, and perhaps he also says that we are stupid because we do not understand his.”

In 1958, ”Things Fall Apart” was published. It was translated into Italian a full twenty years later with the title ”Il crollo”. It was only in 2016 that with the publishing house La nave di Teseo a new translation was published, this time faithful to the original title.

This editorial journey in our country attests to the scarce interest in a novel that has been considered the most important book of African literature. The same fate of scarce notoriety awaits Achebe Chinua himself, who has only begun to arouse some curiosity in the last two years, precisely thanks to this new edition by La nave di Teseo.

Understanding the motivations for this (stubborn) indifference, I believe, would be very interesting.

“Le cose crollano” is the first book of a trilogy (the second is "Ormai a disagio" -No Longer at Ease- of 1960, followed by " La freccia di Dio -The Arrow of God- of 1964).

The title refers to a poem by Yeats (”The Second Coming”) in which he spoke of the fall of the old world represented by Christianity.

”Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.”

W.B. Yeats, The Second Coming

Achebe, instead, speaks of another fall, that of the Igbo culture at the moment when the Western presence is forcibly imposed.

Okonkwo is the protagonist and representative of the traditions. In him is concentrated the strength and pride of an Africa with a masculine framework but with a heart turned towards the feminine:

”Can you tell me, Okonkwo, why one of the names we most frequently give our children is Nneka, that is, ‘My mother is the greatest’? We all know that the man is the head of the family, and that his wives obey his orders. The children belong to the father and his family, and not to the mother and her family. A man belongs to the land of his fathers and not to that of his mother. And yet we use the name of Nneka, ‘My mother is the greatest’. Why? (…) It is true that the children belong to the father. But when a father beats his son, this one seeks comfort in his mother's hut. Men belong to the land of their fathers when things go well and life is sweet. But when there is pain and bitterness, they find refuge in the land of their mother.”

What Achebe tells us is a story with a mythological flavor that then turns out to be a true historical novel in identifying all those elements of encounter / conflict between Western society and African society.

The story of Okonkwo and his people, in fact, is set in an imaginary village but helps us to know the real customs and traditions of a people and therefore their history.

The cult of ancestors, the gods related to the Earth and atmospheric events, traditional festivals such as weddings or the, no less important, celebration of funerals:

everything has its own explanation, its own meaning.

In a wild and often hostile natural habitat, there can be no place for the weak who, in some cases, are confined to the margins of the village and, in others, are physically eliminated.

There are rites that cannot appear to Western eyes as anything other than extremely cruel and macabre, but it remains fundamental and legitimate the affirmation that one of the characters makes at a certain point:

” The world has no end, and what is good for one people is an abomination for another.”

Reading is important and necessary for me.

-------------------------------------------

From the translator's note

“We must give the devil his due: colonialism in Africa has shattered many things, but it has created great units where before there were small and fragmented ones. [...] It has united many peoples who before went their separate ways. And it has given them a language with which to speak to each other. If it has not been able to give them a song, it has given them a language to sigh in.”
Thus Chinua Achebe motivated in an essay in 1964, The African Writer and the English Language,* his choice to write in English: the language of those who not only colonized but created Nigeria as a political entity.

What do I think about this book? I am truly at a loss when it comes to rating it. I must emphasize that my rating is not a condemnation of the book itself; rather, it simply reflects my personal reaction to it.

Here are the aspects that I liked:

- The writing. The language is powerful and straightforward. Despite its simplicity, the lines seem to flow like a prose poem, filled with beautiful metaphors that add depth and beauty to the narrative.

- Learning about the Igbo people. We are introduced to their primitive beliefs, rich traditions, and social mores. This culture closely resembles the life in Achebe's birthplace, Ogidi, Nigeria, where Igbo-speaking people lived in independent villages ruled by elders. Most of the story is set in the village of Umuofia, located west of modern-day Onitsha, on the east bank of the Niger River. The book is set in the 1890s,描绘了英国殖民者和基督教传教士到来前后的生活。Achebe himself converted to Christianity, and his father was among the first in Ogidi to do so. Achebe writes about a lifestyle and issues that he was intimately familiar with.

However, there are also some negatives:

The book is extremely depressing. There is no trace of the joy of life within its pages. The story seems to spiral from bad to worse.

We mainly follow the character of Okonkwa. While there are many other characters in the village, they are only seen in relation to him. He is obsessed with masculinity, strength, and control. He is violent and a warrior through and through. Women are expected to be subservient to men, and he refuses to learn or change. Through this one character, we witness the clash between tribal customs and those of the colonial powers and Christianity. It is a tragic tale, but not a new one. We only see the dark side of life, religion, the colonials, and the natives.

The audiobook was narrated by Peter Francis James, and he did an excellent job. He speaks slowly and clearly, and his strong voice complements the power of the lines.

It is interesting to note that the title of the novel is taken from a line in W. B. Yeats' poem “The Second Coming”.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood–dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.

*********************

The African Trilogy

*Things Fall Apart 3 stars

*No Longer at Ease TBR

*Arrow of God TBR

One of the best things I’ve read for a long time is truly a remarkable piece.

It has the power to captivate the reader from the very beginning. The words seem to dance on the page, creating vivid images and emotions.

The author’s writing style is engaging and unique, making it a pleasure to follow along.

Each sentence is carefully crafted, adding depth and meaning to the overall story.

It’s not just a simple read; it’s an experience that takes you on a journey.

Whether it’s a fictional tale or a non-fiction account, this piece has something for everyone.

It leaves a lasting impression and makes you want to read it again and again.

I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a great read.

It’s definitely one of the highlights of my reading list.

Books read & reviewed: 66

The act of writing holds a strange and almost magical power. It allows ideas to be transformed into a lasting, physical form that can exist independently of the mind. In a culture without a written tradition, stories are not stored in grand libraries of stone but within the very flesh and bones of storytellers. To access those stories, one must seek out the storyteller. And for the story to endure through the ages, it must be retold and rememorized by successive generations.

On the other hand, a book, scroll, or tablet can be rediscovered thousands of years later, long after those who knew the story have passed away. Miraculously, the words within can be delivered to modern man in the same language as the ancients used. For example, if in the Qumran cave, we had found the bones of the scribe who copied the Dead Sea Scrolls instead of the scrolls themselves, we would have no access to his knowledge.

Any library, whether the tales are in the mind of a bard or on the skins of animals, can be destroyed. However, unwritten history is far more fragile. Speech is like the wind, which cannot be unearthed from the earth a century later. All lands have their own histories, but unfortunately, we only get to hear a few in their original words.

We know that Africa had empires as complex and powerful as those of Europe. Beyond the well-known examples of Egypt and Carthage, the Romans provide secondary evidence of the great Central African empires from which they obtained salt and gold, along with many subsequent references. But in the end, these amount to little more than myths and legends.

Carthage was so thoroughly destroyed that Rome essentially erased its true history, replacing it with Roman propaganda and rumors. In The Aeneid, Carthage becomes nothing more than Rome's jealous, jilted lover, rather than what it truly was: the template of naval dominance and mercantile power that Rome copied and built its empire upon.

The African continent is rich in ruins and archaeological treasures, just like Europe or Asia. But due to the rampant social and economic instability caused by multinationals fighting over resources and profits in the power vacuum left by post-colonialism, it is currently not safe or feasible to research these sites and rediscover the cultures they represent. Hopefully, one day, we will be able to uncover this wealth of knowledge. Until then, we can only imagine what we have missed: the great loves and wars of Africa, the dark-skinned Caesars and Helens, the Subotais and Musashis of the savanna.

However, not all is lost. We still have some pieces of the puzzle. For instance, fractal math, which forms the basis of our computer languages, comes from North African divination. And most of the Greek and Roman texts upon which the Western literary tradition is based were passed down to us not by Christian monks but by Islamic scholars. The glory of Benin City and the wealth of Mansa Musa await the student of African histories.

Moreover, there are still storytellers in Africa, and their lineages have not all been lost. Although their words were not written down, we can still research them, looking for lost 'texts' and rare tales, compiling and collecting them, and finally giving voice to histories that have been hidden for too long. With all this in mind, I渴望深度和复杂性from Achebe's work, to gain a glimpse into one of the countless cultures of Africa.

The power of a story from a different culture lies in defamiliarization. While all cultures share certain universal ideas such as love, freedom, revenge, and tyranny, the way they are expressed in each culture can be eye-opening. They can show us familiar things in a new light, making us look at them from a fresh perspective.

Yet, that is not what I got from this book. Indeed, everything in it felt immediately recognizable and familiar, not just in the sense of 'universal human experience' but in almost every detail of expression and structure. I have read modern stories by American authors that were stranger and more culture-shocking than this. But perhaps that was Achebe's intention.

He expressed in interviews how difficult it was for an African author to get a novel published. No one expected an African to want to write their own story, and the manuscript was almost lost because the typing agency didn't take it seriously. Back then, the idea that Africa might have a history outside of Egypt was controversial, even though it seems obvious to us now that every nation and people have their own history and the desire to have their unique voices heard.

So, perhaps it would have been impossible to write a more complex book that would have been received. Achebe was among the first generation of his people to be college-educated, in a branch of a London University opened in Nigeria and taught by White, English teachers. More than that, he may have been trying to show that his own culture was similar to that of his teachers, emphasizing the similarities rather than the differences.

Therefore, it makes sense that Achebe is not writing a primer of his culture but is rather reflecting European culture back at itself through the voice of an Igbo man, which is a brave and revolutionary act. After all, by his education, he was a consummate Western man of letters, and every aspect of his book's form reflects this. It is written, not oral, in English, and it neatly aligns with the Greek tragic structure and the form of the novel. Even the title is taken from one of the most famous poems in the English language.

Achebe is not being coy about his inspirations. He wants us to know that he is adopting Western forms, and he wants us to recognize and mark them. He is aware that this is a post-colonial work, a response to colonization from a culture that has already been colonized. This is not a voice from the past like the discovery of Gilgamesh buried in the sands but a modern voice speaking from the center of the storm.

The central theme of the book is the onset of colonization and the conflict between the tribe and the European forces that are just beginning to encroach upon them. Like his most notable lecture, this book is a deliberate response to writers like Conrad, Kipling, and Haggard.

I'm not suggesting that it's a problem that Achebe is writing in the Western style or that he's 'too Western'. It's an author's prerogative to study and explore Western themes if they wish. As Said observed, it's crucial that writers cross these boundaries and not be confined to a niche where 'women writers write the female experience' and 'Asian writers write the Asian experience'. This is just racial determinism, which holds that due to the culture you're born into, you can only write one thing (unless you're a White man, in which case you can write whatever you like).

In fact, one cannot confront colonialism without understanding it, adopting its forms, and using them against the power structure. Achebe himself recognized that an oppressed individual must use every tool at their disposal to fight back, even those brought in by the oppressors, such as the English language, which he realized would allow him to communicate with colonized peoples from around the world. Authors from various national and cultural backgrounds have taken on the Western style in this way and proven that they can write just as well as any Westerner. Unfortunately, this is not the case with this book.

As a traditionally Western tale, there isn't much depth to it. It's a story of personal disintegration representing the loss of culture and purpose. It's an existential mode similar to that seen in Arthur Miller, Joseph Heller, and J.D. Salinger. But by trying to make the story more universal, Achebe has watered it down too much, so it lacks depth, sympathy, and possibility. His existentialism is remarkable for its completeness. There is no character who is entirely sympathetic or entirely vile, and no culture or point of view that is either elevated or vilified.

Achebe is extremely fair, presenting the flaws of all men and the organizations they belong to, whether Western or African. Like Heller or Miller, his portrayal of mankind is almost unfailingly negative. Small moments of beauty, joy, or innocence are always mitigated, existing only in the inflated egos of the characters or the moralizing ideals of the culture.

Unlike Miller, he doesn't give us the opportunity to sympathize. There are no quiet moments of introspection like those that make Death of a Salesman so personally tragic. Unlike Heller, Achebe doesn't contrast the overwhelming weight of loss with sardonic and wry humor. This is not the hyperbole of Belinda's lock or the mad passion of Hamlet.

Achebe's characters are unable to find meaning in hopelessness, nor do they even struggle to find it and fail. They can't even laugh at themselves. They persist only through naivete and escapism, and since the reader sees through them, we understand that this world is filled with despondence and delusion.

The constant reminder of this disappointment makes the book difficult to connect with. Since all the hope we're given is almost immediately false, there is little dynamic possibility. Everything is already lost, and we're just waiting for the characters to realize it.

It's difficult to evoke the reader's sympathy when there's nothing left to be hopeful for. Without a counterpoint to despondence, not even a false one, it's hard to create narrative depth, to reveal or surprise. Trying to write a climax through such pervasive depression is like trying to raise a mountain in a valley.

No matter how hard they try, there is no visible path to success. Nothing is certain, and the odds against them are often overwhelming. Achebe felt this doubly as an author and a colonized citizen. He succeeds in presenting hopelessness, sometimes reaching Sysiphean Absurdism, but with too few grains to balance the scale against it, his tale presents only a part of the human experience.

Although we may know that others suffer, this is not the same as understanding their suffering. The mother who says 'eat your peas, kids are starving in Africa' succeeds more through misdirection than by revealing the inequalities of politics and the human condition.

Achebe presents suffering to us, but it's not sympathetic. We see it, but we're not invited to feel it. His world loses depth and dimension, becoming scattered, and while this does show us how things can fall apart, especially all things human, this work is more of an exercise in nihilism than a representation of the human experience.

So, it ends up being one of those books that is more notable for its place in the canon than its quality. It was undoubtedly a brave and revolutionary act for Achebe to write it and persevere with it, but the book itself is less impressive than the gesture that produced it. For me, it becomes a prototype of a whole movement of books by people of non-Western descent who are praised and published precisely because they parrot back Western values and avoid confronting us with actual cultural differences, while at the same time using a thin veneer of 'foreignness' to seem suitably exotic, so that the average Western reader can feel more worldly for having read them.

It's flat works like The Kite Runner or House Made of Dawn that are just exotic enough to titillate without actually requiring the reader to learn anything about the culture to appreciate it. After all, every guilt-ridden Liberal Westerner wants to read about other cultures, but as Stewart Lee put it: '... not like that, Stew, not where you have to know anything...'

In the most extreme cases, you get something like The Education of Little Tree, where a racist KKK member pretends to be a Native American and writes a book so saccharine, so apologetic and appeasing of White guilt that it can't help but become a bestseller. This shows that no one is better at predicting what Middle America wants to hear about race than a member of the KKK.

Of course, I'm not suggesting that Achebe is anywhere near that. I'm just highlighting the problem with judging a book by its historical place rather than the actual words on the page. Indeed, it's insulting to the author and the culture. It's the same response people would have to hearing that a dog wrote a book: 'Wow! I've got to read that!' This has nothing to do with the quality of the book and everything to do with our low expectations of dogs.

Treating a person the same way because they're from another culture is pure condescension. Just because someone is born into a culture doesn't mean they represent that culture. Authenticity is not an inborn trait, which is the problem with the illusion of the 'pure voice'. There is no pure cultural voice, and imagining there is reduces that culture to a stereotype.

A woman can be a misogynist, and an African American can hate his own people. Suggesting that a person's views and perspective are inborn and unchangeable is simply racism. It doesn't matter if the trait you're assigning to that race is positive or negative; it's still a limitation you're imposing on that person.

Non-Westerners are just as capable of creating great works of art as Westerners, but they're also just as capable of writing cliché tripe. Like any other human being, they range from brilliant to dull, from bigoted to open-minded, from staid to imaginative. As such, there's no reason to grade non-Western authors on a sliding scale, to expect less from them, or to be any less disappointed when their works fall short. Of course, we shouldn't judge their work by Western standards either, unless like Achebe they are writing in a recognizable Western style and deliberately making that comparison.

While there's something to be said for 'getting your foot in the door', that's not a defense of the book itself, its plot, characters, or themes. It's also too much to place Africa on Achebe's shoulders, as if there aren't thousands of unique cultures, histories, and traditions there. But that's what we do. We make Achebe into a point of entry to an entire continent, which is a huge burden for anyone to bear. It's much better to look at the book itself, its words and images, than to try to make it into something it's not.

A book that lasts can't just be about its place and time; it needs to have a deeper vein that successive generations can return to again and again. I didn't find that here. Indeed, I find it ironic that Achebe has attacked Conrad so much because, like Achebe's work, Heart of Darkness is remarkable for taking a stand against colonialism and racism. Admittedly, it's an early and incomplete presentation, just like Achebe's. It works only because of its particular position, being transgressive but not too transgressive to alienate its audience. It's not quite able to escape being a product of its time, but it still manages to point the way to the future.

But Conrad is not only revolutionary in his stance; he has also written a fascinating and complex book that succeeds despite its shortcomings. In contrast, Things Fall Apart is a book that only works because of its positioning and has little further depth to recommend it. I can't say that the book wasn't effective in its place and time, because it certainly was, or that it hasn't been inspirational. But in the end, Achebe's revolutionary gesture far outshines the meager story beneath it.

4 Stars from what I remembered from reading this in high school.

3 Stars from rereading it now.

This book is a classic that is on a lot of required reading lists. I can understand that as it gives a fictional glimpse into the Westernization of Africa. A topic like this is very heavy, controversial, and important. Because of this, a tale in this genre is going to have a big impact and will easily make its way to must-read status.

When I read it in high school, I think I enjoyed it more than now. The style of writing and subject matter were different than the typical high school reading. Also, back then I was much more interested in politics. In our current world, while I know stories like this are important, I tend to immediately shy away from being deeply interested in politically controversial stories. That doesn't lessen the quality of writing or the message.

When I read it this time, it felt very clinical and not very riveting. I know that some of the story was to lay the background of the people and how they lived, but it had trouble holding my interest. The book is only about 200 pages but it felt like it took forever to read. A couple of times I got done with a chapter feeling like I must have put a huge dent in it for the day, but when I went to update my status, I had only read 10 pages.

Interesting side note: I remember the project I had to do for this book in high school was to write my own Clif Notes for the book. It was an enjoyable project, but I don't think I did very well.

I believe that this book still has value, despite my lessened enjoyment upon rereading. It offers a unique perspective on an important topic, and it can still引发思考 and discussion. However, it may not be a book that everyone will love. Some may find the writing style too dry or the subject matter too沉重. Nevertheless, it is a classic that has stood the test of time and is worth reading at least once.

This was a rather disappointing read.

I had come across a variety of reviews about it, and given that it is regarded as a 'classic', I decided to give it a try.

Regrettably, I believe that 'Things Fall Apart' has an extremely feeble plot.

Sure, events took place, but there was no exploration into the reasons behind them.

There were no explanations provided, which, for me, resulted in a subpar reading experience.

There were certain moments in the book when I was faintly curious about what might occur or when a new character made an appearance.

However, nothing was elaborated upon, and there was a severe lack of tension.

There were numerous anticlimactic moments, and it all became rather monotonous.

The protagonist, Okonkwo, is unlikable from the very beginning.

He exudes an odor of toxic masculinity, which, for a main character, doesn't bode well for the rest of the book.

Is he a hero? No, not in the least.

I found that the overall message that Achebe was attempting to convey in this book was perplexing.

I have reason to suspect that he had no clear objective when penning this work.

It was quite average, poorly conceived, and tediously written.

My God, this book is truly depressing.

If you are ever in need of an example that vividly showcases how colonialists and missionaries can wreak havoc on a native village, then this book is Exhibit A.

The first part of the book centers around Okonkwo, who grows up to become a powerful leader within his clan in Nigeria. However, several crucial events occur that completely alter his path. The stories are masterfully told, rich with descriptive imagery that brings the scenes to life. Yet, Okonkwo is such an obstinate man, bullying everyone around him, making it nearly impossible to develop any liking for the character.

The final part of the book delves into what transpires when British missionaries arrive in the area and force their customs and Christianity upon the villagers. This is an exchange between Okonkwo and a friend:

"Does the white man understand our custom about land?"

"How can he when he doesn't even speak our tongue? But he claims that our customs are bad, and even our own brothers who have converted to his religion also say the same. How can we fight when our own kin have turned against us? The white man is extremely clever. He came quietly and peacefully with his religion. We were initially amused by his foolishness and permitted him to stay. Now, he has won over our brothers, and our clan can no longer function as a unified whole. He has severed the ties that held us together, and we have fallen apart."

Chinua Achebe passed away last week. In his obituary in The New York Times, there was a quote from Kwame Anthony Appiah that piqued my interest and made me eager to read this book: "It would be impossible to say how 'Things Fall Apart' influenced African writing... It would be like asking how Shakespeare influenced English writers or Pushkin influenced Russians."