We are moving to South Africa so I thought I had better read this bestseller from 1948. I listened to the audiobook performed by the actor, Michael York. His incredible voice changes helped me visualize the characters; however, I should have read the book as my weakest learning style is auditory and it took me awhile to get the African village names and characters sorted. The Reverend Stephen Kumalo, who lives in Ndotsheni, a village in eastern South Africa, receives a letter saying his sister, Gertrude, is ill and he should come to Johannesburg. Kumalo hopes to find his son, Absalom, who has also gone to Johannesburg and he has not heard from in a few years. In Johannesburg, Kumalo is assisted by Msimangu, the priest that sent him the letter, and the two set off to find Gertrude and Absalom. Along the way they see economic and social conditions that gave rise to apartheid. Alan Paton's writing is lyrical and full of emotion; a social protest novel that reveals the political and social issues of the time. I think it would be good paired with "Things Fall Apart," that shows the breakdown of the tribe from a black man's perspective; whereas, "Cry the Beloved Country," is from a white man's perspective that reveals postcolonial attitudes of liberalism and Christian paternalism.

Kumalo and Msimangu are good men that travel from place to place observing how the black man has lost "his tribe" and support system since white men has colonized Africa. Kumalo comes from the country and views the city as a corrupting influence on young people. Traditions with a chief as head of the tribe and support system of others members who teach moral behavior has been replaced by the white man's influence and this is represented in the lawless city of Johannesburg. The result is corruption as people live in fear.

Kumalo begins his journey rooted in the old ways and once he travels to Johannesburg he discovers that the world has changed and he must change with it. The erosion of African society is symbolized in representations of a barren land and the erosion of the red soil that bleeds into the rivers like an open wound. Stephen Kumalo's home is decaying with his sister turning to prostitution and his son committing murder. Kumalo clings to the old ways at first realizing that he must change by the end to adapt to a changing world, but he suffers terribly along the way and like Stephen, the first Christian martyr. Kumalo must lose his son, sister, and family before gaining a new one. He realizes that he must reach out to help those in need or suffering and give to them selflessly; hence, creating a new tribe.

Kumalo meets his brother, John, who has rejected the tribe but who has an incredible voice or speaking ability that others listen to, but he is corrupt and only thinks of himself. He is hollow and unreliable as a friend or relative. A foil to him is Dubula, a man that is the voice of the boycott. His motives are unselfish and Kumalo and Msimangu realize that he would make a great leader because power would not corrupt him. He's morally stable, unlike John Kumalo. Many times throughout the novel the power of corruption is brought up and it is the self-sacrificing men that are held up as examples to emulate.

The economic and deplorable social conditions are revealed throughout the journey, but it is mainly through James Jarvis that the white person is supposed to recognize actions he or she can take to help mend the gap with blacks. James Jarvis is a country man like Kumalo and when his son is murdered he reads his notes discovering his son thought deeply about the racial problems and was trying to change the world to be a better place. James is changed and decides to work for a solution toward helping the tribe. He introduces a man that shows the blacks agricultural methods that will help till the soil or heal a broken land by beginning something new for the blacks.

When I read, "Huckleberry Finn," as an adult I could see why others took offense at the stereotypical portrayal of blacks. In Paton's novel, the whites are superior and the blacks are left with the whites making morally correct decisions to benefit them. Stephen calls James Jarvis an angel because he's showing the natives agricultural techniques and he's building a new church which allowed him to remain a pastor there. This is supposed to help them with the tribal displacement but it is always the whites in this story that have the knowledge and vision for the tribes. Paton wanted South African natives to embrace Christianity because this would lead to moral living and he suggests farming as a way to get back in touch with the land.

I've been reading Jared Diamond's book, "Collapse," about elements that lead to a society's demise. Poverty, over farming, deforestation, climate, and environmental issues are usually significant factors along with different catalysts that cause the collapse. Paton focuses mostly on moral decay and the break down of the tribe. While Paton's attempt to change racial injustices is noble, his story shows at the same time the attitudes of the day full of colonial views of an enlightened Western civilization replacing a barbarian one. Many find his book outdated because of his portrayal of blacks. For further reading on this topic, I put the article at the bottom of the page. This is a story that will lead to plenty of discussions.



Source: Paternalism, Ideology, and Ideological Critique: Teaching "Cry, the Beloved Country" Author(s): Patrick Colm Hogan
Source: College Literature, Vol. 19/20, No. 3/1, Teaching Postcolonial and Commonwealth Literatures (Oct., 1992 - Feb., 1993), pp. 206-210
Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25112003 Accessed: 08-06-2016 15:44 UTC

I love when books take you on a journey. The past month, I have been in South Africa — first, with The Conservationist by Nadine Gordimer; secondly, with Trevor Noah in Born a Crime; and now I have just finished Cry the Beloved Country by Alan Paton. I saved the best for last and I give it 4.5 stars.

It is a book about an aging native African parson who leaves his remote village to search Johannesburg for his son and sister, from whom he has not heard in a very long time. He fears the worst has happened, so he must go to find out. The story is about loss, the parson’s search, what he finds, and how he is changed, and others are changed, in the aftermath of his own journey, returning to his village.

Whether the country is a metaphor for the people, or the other way around, I am not sure, but the book is filled with beautiful, poetic prose about the tragic conditions of the land, symbolic of the decline of the moral society from which he comes.

This is a book I might never have read were it not for the Goodreads group, Catching Up With the Classics. Thank you to the members of that group for bringing it to my attention. It was a wonderful experience.

This book has been like an old newsreel travelogue. As I bid a fond farewell to the parson and the veld, my next journey will lead me to another far away but very different subtropical locale, Los Angeles, where many of the plants of South Africa also grow, such as the Agapanthus.

A novel that we read in junior high (in grade nine English, to be exact), Alan Paton's Cry, the Beloved Country was likely the first school-assigned literary classics offering that I truly and with all my heart and soul unreservedly enjoyed reading. And while Cry, the Beloved Country was not exactly an easy reading experience, it was immensely satisfying, intense, emotionally riveting, and personally very much appreciated, as my parents were absolutely horrified and aghast that our English teacher would dare have us read a novel they themselves considered politically problematic (as both of them were I guess afraid of me somehow turning into a raging Socialist or Communist, as I had always had a very developed sense of justice versus injustice, and was therefore often, but especially upon reading Cry, the Beloved Country vehemently and loudly pontificating that Apartheid was one of the most unjust and evil political and economic systems ever and needed to be changed, pronto). Highly recommended is Cry, the Beloved Country and yes, most definitely also suitable for teenagers, although the issues encountered should, no they must, be discussed and debated (and not to forget Alan Paton's exquisite writing style, as we often seem to focus only on the contents and themes of novels, whilst ignoring or at least skimming over questions of stylistics, parallelisms, irony, in other words, the structures in and through which the contents and themes of novels, of any writing, are presented to and featured for potential readers).

Not a single word misplaced. Every movement and moment in its place, woven together with a master’s hand. The joy of slowly weaving through every thread of this color and that was only overshadowed by the wonder of seeing it all radiantly together as a whole.

This is a story that is neither propaganda nor polemic, but an honest telling as the eyes see it and the body feels it and the heart knows it. Of things true that must be spoken, and of things too true to be spoken of at all in words, yet which somehow are still heard.

Paton’s story of two fathers whose lives collide with the twin forces of tragedy and triumph—of our most desperate fears, and of our most holy instincts—rings true because it never fought to be. It is true in the same way as a harmony (of which Paton is a literary master). It sings on its own. It needs no explaining or defense. As the reader, I happily surrendered to it.

Paton invited us into his home, and I have a great hunger to keep exploring. To find answers to our great human condition of life and life together in this world. To be invited such, and to know great answers will be found along the way, is in a way the magic of literature.

South Africa will always own a part of my heart. Although this was first published in 1948 I have only now read it for the first time. Captures so perfectly the tragic beauty of this country (at least as I remember it from our time there in the late nineties). Quite possibly my favorite read of 2024.

Had I known what this was about, and had not judged this book by the title (which led me to assume that this would be another depressing commentary on Apartheid), I would have picked it up YEARS ago!

Contrary to what the title suggests, this book highlights the hope in South Africa, even before the dark days of Apartheid really began. It shows forgiveness, and people of different races working together. It does not shy away from the problems: the exploitation of black people who were forced to work for a pittance for the benefit of the white mine owners, the crime that was causing people to be scared in their own homes, the potential danger of not heeding the warnings about changing the forced inequality...

The wisdom in this book was unexpected. It highlighted how the destruction of the tribal life left people unprepared for the new city life that they were being forced to enter for work. The words written by the man who was murdered rang so true when he spoke about the necessity for change. Nor can one, living in the New South Africa, not appreciate the truth in the final statement: “I see only one hope for our country, and that is when white men and black men, desiring neither power nor money, but desiring only the good for their country, come together to work for it.
I have one great fear in my heart, that one day when they are turned to loving, they will find we are turned to hating.”

Beautifully written, this book is quotable on almost every page. I would highly recommend it to anyone who has any interest in racial issues, South Africa or Africa as a whole.

إبك, إيها البلد الحبيب, بقلم آلان باتون

المكان: جنوب أفريقيا, المشاكل: الأرض البوار, إختلال المجتمع القبلي-المدني, وكذلك الفصل العنصري, طبعا, أليست جنوب أفريقيا؟ أما الشخصية الرئيسية فهو رجل كنيسة, يتأمل, ويتألم, ويكابد لإنقاذ مايمكن إنقاذه.

تتحدث الرواية عن القسيس الذي يزور جوهانسبرج, بحثا عن أخته وابنه اللذيّن التقمتهم المدينة المفترسة, فيدخل في دوامة خطرة. نبرة الراوي محايدة, ترمي إلى التحليل بدلاً عن التجريح. كما يتضمن النص فرضيات عن مسببات تفاقم جرائم السكان الأصليين, و يسلط الضوء على معاناة شعب فقد الوشائج القبلية ولم يقدَّم له بديل, وفقد حقوله الخصبة في سبيل تمدن غير مدروس.

يهيمن شيطان الخوف على الأنفس في جوهانسبرج. الخوف من الظلم, من الجريمة, من إنهيار البلد الحبيب. وفي مقابل ذلك هناك دفء الوطنية الحقة, متجسدة في الناشطين السود الذين ينظمون الإضرابات والإعتصامات, وكذلك في البيض الذين يسعون إلى رأب الصدع وجمع الفرقاء. وفوق كل ذلك نرى وصفاً لفتنة الطبيعة الخلابة ممتزجة مع بساطة ساكني الريف فتمنح الذهن صفاء بعد الخوض في مدينة الجريمة والتشرد.

يُجمع العديد من النقاد على أن هذه الرواية بقلم باتون هي أهم رواية في الأدب الجنوب أفريقي. ربما! فهي رواية ناضجة, هادفة, مترعة بالنقد البنّاء. أضف إلى ذلك أنها متماسكة السرد, مرسومة الشخصيات. بالنسبة لي, هي رواية أقدّرها لكن لم أقع في هواها, فشتّان بين من يحتضنك بشغف ومن يصافحك باحترام.

I thought Cry, the Beloved Country was truly outstanding. Frankly the Goodreads summary does a better job extolling its virtues than I could, so I won't try to compete with it. Instead here are a few thoughts:

* It's unfathomable to me that it's averaging fewer than 4 stars, almost as if the sole determination of a book's value is whether it's a "page-turner." You'd be doing this book an injustice by reading it too quickly.

* I know I've commented about other authors being poetic in their use of language, but I don't remember any of them reaching this level. You can get a sense for what I mean via the Goodreads quote page

* I listened on audio. Wow was Michael York a good narrator! Oddly, I last encountered him as the dandy Count Andrenyi in the 1974 edition of "Murder on the Orient Express" (far superior to the recent version IMO). This is quite a different performance and he's spectacular.

* There was a quote towards the end that I really wanted to reference in the review, but listening on audio forced me to try to find it online and I failed. It was along the same lines as this quote from the beginning of the book:

The great red hills stand desolate, and the earth has torn away like flesh. The lightning flashes over them, the clouds pour down upon them, the dead streams come to life, full of the red blood of the earth. Down in the valleys women scratch the soil that is left, and the maize hardly reaches the height of a man. They are valleys of old men and old women, of mothers and children. The men are away, the young men and the girls are away. The soil cannot keep them any more.

In particular, I thought that last sentence was terrific.

* Finally, lest you think this was a book of poetry without much of a plot, there was a strong story as well. My eyes welled up with tears at least once, which is a testament to both the author and the narrator - books do that to me only rarely. (Notice how I snuck that in at the very end figuring most people would have moved on a long time ago - I'm truthful but not very brave)

بی‌شک اوقاتی فرا می‌رسد که انگار دیگر خدایی در جهان وجود ندارد…

کتاب فراتر از تصور من بود و با تمام سادگیش خیلی لذت بردم ازش.

This isn't an infinitely quotable book, but occasionally it produces a line that is devastatingly clear and true. Lines like, "It was not his habit to dwell on what could have been, but what could never be." and, “It is the duty of a judge to do justice, but it is only the people who can be just.” made me put the book down and stare dumbfounded at the wall. But mostly this isn't a highly quotable book; it's a beautifully written, riveting book where passages or entire halves of scenes are compelling streams of words, readily understandable for actions and conversations, and profound for their insights and suggestions into human life in adversity and prosperity.

If you're going to write a borderline hopeless story, do it like this. Paton's prose is mostly readable and occassionally beautiful, especially in his monologues, letters and prayers. For example: "The truth is that our Christian civilization is riddled through and through with dilemma. We believe in the brotherhood of man, but we do not want it in South Africa. We believe that God endows men with diverse gifts, and that human life depends for its fullness on their employment and enjoyment, but we are afraid to explore this belief too deeply. We believe in help for the underdog, but we want him to stay under. And we are therefore compelled, in order to preserve our belief that we are Christian, to ascribe to Almighty God, creator of Heaven and Earth, our own human intentions, and to say that because He created white and black, He gives the Divine Approval to any human action that is designed to keep black men from advancement." It goes on, but this should give you a sense of Paton's insight and rhetorical ability.

Paton touches on almost every level of trouble in post-colonial South Africa: racism, classism, elitism, residual imperical feelings, how wealth corrupts natives, arbitrary segregation, the loss of family values, the loss of social pride, the abandonment of positive religious teachings, the inability of government and the misunderstanding of the new laws. It doesn't blame white people or black people; it creates individuals who embody multiple faults, and when such people make up a new nation, it shows how such a system could collapse and increase human suffering. Paton does not rub this in your face; even his foreward explains that several of these people are real or are based on real people, and his praises those who are working towards a better world. This novel is every ounce about trying to do something. This isn't literary bleakness or contemptable anti-humanitarianism (a strange view for any author to have, given that all our authors are humans). There are good people stuck in all of this, and from the very first chapter you get a sense that this is, if not a good place, then a place that could be truly great. The difference between Alan Paton here and Edith Wharton or Nathanael West in much of their writing is that the disappointment does not permeate the tone and the myopic view does not bias the story. Paton is a far more sympathetic writer, able to capture the most dangerous elements of humanity in a way that is uniquely his own, though we'd be better off if it became more common.

This was my first introduction to apartheid South Africa, and oh did it blow me away! Fantastic narrative concentrating on the human dimensions of a political tragedy. Thank God this abominable system is no more.

This is the 22nd book I’ve read in 2024, and it is by far my favorite of the year and, I would venture to say, of the past few years.

Upon receiving a letter, Stephen Kumalo, the pastor in a dying tribal village in South Africa, sets off for big, unknown Johannesburg to find his sister, brother, and son, all of whom over time moved there but have not been heard from since.

There, a tragedy changes his life forever and intertwines it with that of a powerful white man.

Paton masterfully, poetically, and observantly relates this profound and poignant story that explores the human heart, spirit, and condition with a beauty and power I have not encountered in a book in a long time.