"Cry, the Beloved Country" is the story of a Zulu pastor Stephen Kumalo who reluctantly must leave his rural life to go and find his son Absalom and sister Gertrude who have been swallowed up by Johannesburg in South Africa of the 1940s.

There is a lot to love about this book, beautifully written, compulsive reading, and satisfyingly messy with all the different voices and views captured well and the most part sympathetically. The notable exception is the voice of black South Africans who agitated as Paton would see it with hate in the hearts and modern readers would perceive as a thoroughly reasonable way given the provocation.

The book not only provides a plunge into South Africa but has a more universal appeal beyond that of outlets oppressed people have in the face of tyranny and the individual choices for redemption in an unredeeming system.

Finally the words are moving and beautiful as shown in the most famous quote I suppose given its inclusion in the good reads blurb and so many reviews

"Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much."

But I also loved the opening page of the book a little overwrought yes but in a lovely Oprah way it is by most favourite opening page of 2015 and best description of soil erosion ever.

"THERE IS A lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills. These hills are grass-covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond any singing of it. The road climbs seven miles into them, to Carisbrooke; and from there, if there is no mist, you look down on one of the fairest valleys in Africa. About you there is grass and bracken and you may hear the forlorn crying of the titihoya, one of the birds of the veld. Below you is the valley of the Umzimkulu, on its journey from the Drakensberg to the sea; and beyond and behind the river great hill after great hill; and beyond and behind them, the mountains of Ingeli and East Griqualand.

The grass is rich and matted, you cannot see the soil. It holds the rain and the mist, and they seep into the ground, feeding the streams in every kloof. It is well-tended, and not too many cattle feed upon it; not too many fires burn it, laying bare the soil. Stand unshod upon it, for the ground is holy, being even as it came from the Creator. Keep it, guard it, care for it, for it keeps men, guards men, cares for men. Destroy it and man is destroyed.

Where you stand the grass is rich and matted, you cannot see the soil. But the rich green hills break down. They fall to the valley below, and falling, change their nature. For they grow red and bare; they cannot hold the rain and mist, and the, and the streams are dry in the kloofs. Too many cattle feed upon the grass, and too many fires have burned it. Stand shod upon it, for it is coarse and sharp, and the stones cut under the feet. It is not kept, or guarded, or cared for, it no longer keeps men, guards men, cares for men. The titihoya does not cry here any more."

Marvelous book

In a small village in South Africa, a little child runs in to deliver a letter to the priest of the village. After reading, Reverend Stephen Kumalo realizes he has to journey immediately to Johannesburg to look for his son and sister. So he packs with trepidation, not knowing what will happen and where exactly to look for them.

This is the opening of Cry, the beloved country. What secrets lies in Johannesburg? Why did they never send a letter home? Why is Reverend Msimangu insisting he comes immediately? Nothing would have prepared him for he is about to discover. His son Absalom has a child, and he is in prison for killing a white man. And his sister? she is now a prostitute.

In its 200 and something pages, this book covers extensively cultural, political, religious, and philosophical territories: Apartheid, union strikes, racism, Christianity, the judicial system, social justice, and segregation.

Paton did not disappoint, a prison superintendent turned writer, his interest in his characters and their situation leans heavily towards their symbolic and elegiac aspects.

With poetry and pathos, he writes: "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. "

There are a lot of weary, melancholy wisdom in this book that transcends the literary, but one stuck with me. 

Towards the end of the book, Reverend Stephen Kumalo echoed the young black priest, Msimangu, fear of hardening racial attitudes, "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"

If you want to read something that will change your perspective of the world, and it's shifting realities, then you should read this book.

Paton was of course right when he said, "It is a story of the beauty and terror of human life, and it cannot be written again because it cannot be felt again."

«بی شک اوقاتی فرا می رسد که انگار دیگر خدایی در جهان وجود ندارد.»

رمان «بنال وطن» از آلن پیتون در مورد چنین اوقاتیه دقیقن؛ در مورد اوقاتی که انگار خدا بر فراز آسمان در حال تماشای بشر نیست؛ یا انگار دیگه براش مهم نیست. مسئلۀ اصلی رمان مواجهۀ اخلاق با موقعیت های حاد در زندگی انسانهاست؛ اخلاق که در اینجا در قالب یک کشیش نمایندگی میشه، رو به زوال رفته؛ از پرورش فرزندان صالح بازمونده و فروپاشی خانواده و ارکان خودش رو نظاره میکنه. و خب، این فروپاشی در پیرامون خودش ناگزیر رشد و زایش هم داره، که اگر زندگی این نیست پس چیست؟
رمان ساختار سر راست و متعارفی داره، و اصولاً قرار نیست فُرم پیش رو یا تازه ای ارائه بده، بلکه تلاش میکنه در قالب روایت به ترسیم وضعیت ملتی بپردازه که در فقر و نکتب به سر میبرن، تا احتمالاً شاید بتونه توجهی رو جلب کنه به سوی اون. از این نظر، کم و بیش شبیه به رمانهای رئالیسم سوسیالیستیه، با این هدف که قوم سفید و سیاه رو بر سر آشتی بیاره و آفریقای بهتری رو پیش چشمان ملتش ترسیم کنه.
از نقاط قوت رمان زیادی مسیحی بودنشه، که البته زائد بر روایت نیست، چرا که اصولاً شخصیت اصلی رمان یک کشیش پیر و سنتی هست که جهان رو از چشم مسیحیت خودش میبینه؛ و البته لحظات شک و تردیدی که دچارش میشه جزو لحظات ناب رمان هست؛
از دیگر نقاط ضعف، ترجمۀ نامتعارف و گاهی اذیت کننده بود که خودش رو تو چشم خواننده فرو میکرد. من خواننده نتونستم متوجه بشم که متن اصلی این رمان ادبی و شاعرانه س، یا اینکه خانم سیمین دانشور اون رو شاعرانه و نامتعارف ترجمه کرده.
و در نهایت، اگر بتونیم اطناب رمان رو ندید بگیریم، رمان خوب و خواندنی ای هست.

I was fortunate to pick this book up soon after reading Long Walk to Freedom by Nelson Mandela. In this way I was prepared to understand more deeply some of the issues the characters in Paton’s book struggle with under apartheid than I would have otherwise. This pairing buttresses my firm belief that fiction can flesh out the human condition equally with history or memoir. And it can fully engage us by helping us walk a mile in the shoes of people we come to care deeply for, more than being kept at a distance in non-fiction genres.

What Paton has done is remarkable. We start with the black side of apartheid. In the story’s timeline, the blacks have already been segregated into bantustans, basically reservations or “homelands” carved out of some of the poorest land in the nation, evicted from their homes and herded into overcrowded, resource poor areas. (1950s, I think) Many have fled to the cities because the land cannot support them. Though they might find some work in the cities, they mostly find crowded conditions that drive them into desperation, loose morals and crime. Those who remain in the bantustans struggle to retain their faith and identities and work the land against all odds.

But then Paton gives us the White side of apartheid, from why it’s desirable to the racist, angry and scared to why it’s wrong to the compassionate reformers. It is in an essay being penned by his son that Jarvis, our white main character, that we get a very clear picture of what the Whites have done to create the unjust conditions of the Blacks, and why they must change their policies.

So we’ve gotten examples of problems Blacks are facing, and then we get the backstory of why and how the conditions came about to put those struggles into context. Quite a feat without making us read a history book.

Everyone is beautifully and clearly drawn: Zulu pastor Kumalo, Msimangu, the priest who assists him in Johannesburg, the landlady, the corrupt but charismatic brother, even the lawyer who takes the case of the pastor’s son “for God.”

Jarvis’s compassion, wakened by his son’s work that he only discovered after his murder, feels deep and true, and is beautifully wrought. Paton’s writing is deliberate and simple, and works well for the story. There’s no pathos from the language and this keeps the reader clear-eyed. I loved many things about this book.

The opening lines of Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country exemplify the beauty and sheer lyricism of his diction:

There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills. These hills are grass-covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond the singing of it. The road climbs seven miles into them, to Carisbrooke; and from there, if there is no mist, you look down on one of the fairest valleys of Africa. About you there is grass and bracken and you may hear the forlorn crying of the titihoya, one of the birds of the veld.

Paton sustains this level of lyricism for the rest of the novel. His language sings, rolls, and skips along the tongue, much like the poetry of Dylan Thomas. The beautiful language accentuates the poignancy and heartbreak of the narrative as the story unfolds.

Set against the background of a South Africa fraught with racial tensions and the injustice of apartheid, an elderly Zulu pastor, Stephen Kumalo, sets off for Johannesburg in search of his sister, Gertrude, and his son, Absalom. Unfamiliar with large cities, Kumalo is bewildered by its size and activity. Fortunately, several people generously give of their time to assist him in his search. He retrieves Gertrude from a life of prostitution. He eventually locates Absalom, finding him in a jail cell awaiting trial for murdering a white man.

Threaded throughout this tragic story are insights on the impact of imperialism: the exploitation of the indigenous population, the struggles they face, the desperation and poverty, the breakdown of the family unit, the loss of a cohesive belief system, and the corruption and betrayal of those in relative positions of power. Paton takes an even-handed approach to the challenges. While castigating a system built on segregation and economic exploitation, he scrupulously avoids portraying the struggle as black against white. The corrupt and the advocates for equality and racial justice can be found on both sides of the racial divide, as are their acts of forgiveness, kindness, compassion, and generosity.

The characters are authentically rendered in a series of heart-wrenching scenes. Kumalo’s encounter with Absalom as he grapples to understand why and how his son could have killed a man is deeply moving. His son’s confused and halting replies reflect his fear and inability to fully grasp what has happened. A distraught James Jarvis, the victim’s father, as he reads the final words of his son, is heart-wrenching. Ironically, his son was composing an eloquent statement advocating for racial justice before he was so tragically interrupted. But perhaps the most poignant scenes are those between James Jarvis, the father of the man who was killed, with Stephen Kumalo, the father of the man who killed him. Overcome with emotion, Kumalo struggles to find the right words to apologize for his son’s senseless act. The shared pain of the two fathers is rendered with compassion and delicacy.

This is a beautiful story, beautifully rendered with compassion and understanding.

Highly recommended.

My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com

I am a teacher and, after 34 years, attempt to find new combinations in the catalogue of "must reads." I have done this as a staple for years. Last year, when deciding what I wanted to do - kind of like window shopping for lovely clothes -- I decided to read this book after reading Hamlet. I love the mirrored plot structure. I adore the fact that the land is a character. The moral imperative and subsequent hemming and hawing in Hamlet takes on a different light and life in the beautifully wrought quest into the valley of death by Stephen Kumalo. The gentle prod of grace, of questions, of moral hues and tones take me back to the wasteland scene in Hamlet. After speaking with the captain on his way to death against the Polish, Hamlet finally has his epiphany. For Stephen, the wasteland shifts, but the same 20,000 + on their way to death in a mine is the same moral imperative. My students are slowly putting the plots together and the depth that they are mining (pun intended) is impressive. I am quite pleased. They had trouble with the flow of dialogue at first, but they also had trouble starting in medias res in Hamlet. So goes the way with 15 and 16 year old students. We are going to next move to Eliot's wasteland for a quick jaunt through 20th century gardens and graves. Paton is a treasure - put on his shoes, or discover the link with the land through the unshod feet and understand how two men and their families, their villages can wrestle with ethical dilemmas and the imperative of humanity. Powerful when put together! * of particular delight - one of my students noticed two items: the use of Gertrude in both and also the idea of kairos! I was so happy. This is what makes books come alive. When we share, we grow.

Really a beautiful book even if a bit old, on Africa, on SouthAfrica, on Racism, on apartheid, on hate and forgiveness. On two old men who can forget and forgive all that bad life - by the hands of their offsprings - gave them. For the "better good". Hope it was so, hope it is so now...

"And money is not something to go mad about, and throw your hat into the air for. Money is for foor and clothes and comfort, and a visit to the pictures. Money is to make happy the life of children. Money is for security and for dreams, and for hopes, and for purposes. Money id for buying the fruits of the hearth, and the land where you were born.
No second Johannesburg is needed upon earth. ONe is enough
[...]
But when that dawn will come, of our emancipation, from the fear of bondage and the bondage of fear, why, that is a secret."

I read this book in high school and loved it for the story. That was in the 1960's when apartheid was in full swing and Mandela was in prison. This time I loved the story (fortunately some of the racial and political problems have been solved) but was also able to appreciate the beautiful, lyrical prose. I have shed many tears while reading this, most in last section of the book, which is the section that brings some hope to the situation in a 1940's South Africa that is pre-apartheid but a country that is mostly inhabited by poor blacks under the thumb of a few rich whites. Despite the inequities which are abundantly shown, this book also embodies courage, compassion and Christian values. On a personal level, I thought many times while reading this on the aptness of the title for the situation in my country today. Cry, The Beloved Country for the state of race relations and political civility that seem to be tearing us apart in this presidential election season.

I was supposed to read Cry, the Beloved Country my senior year of high school. But you know how senior year is. Well, I wasn’t like that — promise. I wasn’t one who started slacking because I had my acceptance letter to college in hand. But I did decide that I didn’t really care for English, and that I found my European History class much more fascinating, and thus I spent all my study time pouring over my history textbook instead of my English novels (especially since the in-class discussions were detailed enough to ace the tests by).

It was my loss, I guess, because this book is excellent. More than a story of racial inequality, social problems, and injustice (which is what I remember about the plot from high school), this is first and foremost a story of forgiveness and hope.

There are many reasons for South Africa, the country commanded to “cry” in the title, to do just that: poverty and famine drive many to choose paths that are less than admirable, sometimes immoral. And there and many reasons for the main character, a humble priest from a rural Zulu tribe, to give up his faith in both God and humanity — and yet throughout the story there is a calm sense of hope for the future. Stephen Kumalo meets good men along his tragic journey that give hope to him and to the country as a whole: friends, family, and even one who should be his deepest enemy. And Kumalo himself is one to be emulated: for his meekness and gratitude, for his acceptance of trials, for his charity, and even for his occasional human-ness but then sincerely repentant nature. To enjoy a book, I have to have a main character to at the least empathize with — Kumalo is one that I not only appreciate but admire.

And the writing is downright lyrical in some places. It’s easy to see why it’s a modern classic.

Being awakened to the injustices of prejudice and poverty is all right, but this book does more than that — it inspires hope in the midst of hard times. A book to add to my long list of favorites. ;-)

ادبیات ترجمه کتاب دقیقا فرزند زمان خودش است و روح اواخر دهه 40 و اوایل دهه 50 در متن کتاب موج می زند. شور زندگی، عدالت خواهی و عشق به سرزمینی تنها و نیازمند کمک، و حتی سیمینی که جلالش را در میانه ی ترجمه ی این کتاب از دست داده ا��ت و رنج کشیده است و باز به آن پرداخته است، اینها چیزهایی است که تا هفته ها پس از خواندن کتاب رهایم نمی کند

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.