This still is in my top five books of all time. It, along with Alan Paton's Cry the Beloved Country, began my interest in Africa and colonialism, and put me on teh path I've followed up to this day with my PhD focus in British colonial history in South Africa. That being said, this is a top-notch novel. In 2000, at the age of fifteen, this is what I had to say right after reading it:

"Barbara Kingsolver has eloquently crafted a marvel here. In the Poisonwood Bible, she relates the story of fiery, self-righteous Baptist minister Nathan Price, who drags his wife and four daughters into the Congo in 1959 for missionary work. Settling in the village Kilanga, on the Kwilu River, adventure soon unfolds.Told from the point of view of all five female characters, the story is related very differently. Rachel, the teenager, the adolescent twins Adah and Leah, the child Ruth May, and the mother, Orleanna make up this tale.While this delivery in tale is unorthodox and rewarding, the characters all have their flaws. Rachel's self-centeredness and misplaced priorities are frustrating--she genuinely cries over a hole in her favorite dress while children starve outside--as well as her inability to use correct phrasing (a "tapestry of justice"). Ruth May is childly simplistic in her delivery (look for her speech on segregation in the first part of the book), and Orleanna's Earth Mother, wandering style grows tedious in the lengthy middle section.Leah and Adah are the most interesting, and I gravitated to Adah, with her disability and scorn for mankind. She is clearly brilliant, but ignored by all, especially by her smugly self-righteous (to the point of being insufferable) father.The Poisonwood Bible is at first a slow read, for the first 150 pages, but it soon picks up as the tension rises and falls...characters like Tata Ndu, Brother Fowles, and Anatole only add to the excitement, as does the revelation of what became of each of the wayward sisters as the book ends around 1998. A fiction that dips into politics, the Poisonwood Bible is an enjoyable read."

I've re-read it twice since then, and while my enthusiasm has died a slight bit, it is still one of the most arresting and powerful things I've written. Great job, Barbara.

This is the book Kingsolver was destined to write. It is her life's culmination, her masterpiece. Wrapped up in a fabulous piece of fiction we learn volumes from her expertise in African culture. It is what makes her voice so authentic.

What amazes me about this story, is Barbara Kingsolver's ability to write five very distinct, very different characters and give them all a believable voice. The characters were so vivid, real in their flawed insecurities, and so utterly different. I found myself constantly annoyed with Rachel's shallow stupidity and yet invested in her story. With almost smug satisfaction, I watched her board the plane that would forever change her life. I wish every self-centered girl could experience life in a third-world country and gain some perspective. While I found myself sympathetic to Orleanna's ordeal I didn't find myself congruent to her decisions or Kingsolver's prejudice in her feminist message. Ruth May's chapters are sweet and while I enjoyed her character without much depth or growth to her she is the character I remember the least, perhaps because I found her voice least authentic and Kingsolver tried to emulate the innocent non-understanding voice of a child in her thought-provoking intelligent tone.

What I loved most was the complete balance between the twins. The naive optimistic Leah who blindly idolizes her father is the polar opposite of Adah's bitter resentment who finds no hope or reason for faith in life. If it weren't for Kingsolver's obvious disdain for Leah's paternal allegiance, I would have related most to her character. I felt sorry for Adah's self pity, found a kindred spirit in her literary mind, and loved her palindromes. Between the negative and positive I felt I got a more balanced view of their Africa experience. As they evolve into their mature characters, they almost swapped places. Leah is the one who became bitter and rebellious while Adah assured and accepting. Adah was the character I most enjoyed, especially the more the book progressed and she learned to release her clawing grip on being the crooked girl obsessed with symmetry.

What was counterproductive in my opinion was her portrayal of the controlling, unyielding preacher and her refusal to give him a voice. Had she made Nathan a kind well-meaning preacher misguided in his mission to save Africa, I would have taken her questions about Christian values imposing their views on the rest of the world better. But instead of finding myself taking her stance that other cultures and religions have value and should be unaltered by Christian oppression, I found myself wanting to side with the minister and defend his decision to uproot his family, take them halfway around the world, and sacrifice their own comforts for the charitable saving of a nation. And I eventually sympathized with his sad grasp at resolution, absolution.

While I know there are stringent unyielding religious men, I found his character heavily stereotyped and reveals her own prejudice. Even the viewpoint of the believing children in the beginning seemed to mock a dependence on God to understand the world. Brother Price (and Leah) depict classic Christian pitfall: to expect the Lord to save and shelter you if you are good. If you are not protected either there is no God or you need more penitence. I wish Kingsolver had left one of her characters to embrace the comfort of religion in their sorrows. I felt that Kingsolver's ultimate message is that one must give up the fanciful religious optimism of one's youth to become a well-rounded intelligent individual, that optimism is best served to nurture physical rather than spiritual needs.

She inserted brother Fowles to showcase how she thought the missionary efforts should go: keep their culture and introduce some Christian principles to enhance their lives, but I disagree. He seemed more of a service missionary without introducing much gospel into his efforts. And what preaching he did do he let meld with their superstitious belief. But I didn't feel that a perversion of truth was the right answer either. Is service without gospel always the answer? Is the only Christian value worthy of dishing out love thy neighbor and leave them to their own believes when you truly feel you can save them? If these tribe members had embraced Christianity and given up their traditions would that really have been a bad thing?

Just as Nathan's stubborn unyielding stance brought him no believers in Africa where an appreciation for their culture could have bridged the gap, Kingsolver's position does the same with readers. If you are already inclined to despise missionary efforts you'll probably agree with her analysis that Christians should mind their own business and leave culture worldwide to thrive. But I doubt her depiction of Christianity as unyielding is winning any Christians to reconsider their tolerance level. And I believe meddling in a nation politically falls on a completely different level than spiritually. We never hear American rationale for intervening in the Congo, only Leah's projection of African sentiment, which is the voice of Kingsolver who obviously feels that foreign countries should have left the Congo to their own accord, that the damage left was worse than if the tribes were left on their own. When one grows up abroad it's easy to become weary of your country's intervention than to feel it's rescuing powers.

Kingsolver's love and understanding for the Africa shines through and is the strongest asset in the novel. Perhaps that is why she feels so saddened by Western efforts to change it and eager to show a resilient country so big and so different that it is resistant to outside influence. I felt transported into the tribes of Africa as I vividly saw this politically unstable era take shape as the backdrop to this family's story and especially loved Anitole's take on African life. Years after reading this I can still visualize the ants overtaking the village. I can see the heavy rains (symbolizing the differences of Africa) demolishing Nathan's garden (the symbol of his inability to conform to another culture) and still think about the tarantulas crawling in bananas or wild cats following children home. Most of all, I enjoyed the accurate glimpse into the cultural values of this opposing social structure from the perspective of understanding instead of judgment.

But once again, instead of making me want to visit the continent and save its inhabitants, it verified my fears and conviction to steer clear. I feel that Kingsolver wanted to inspire humanitarian activists in her readers, but I find myself overwhelmed. This well-meaning family made no difference and were only swallowed in the culture and their problems themselves. What could I do? I feel useless and inadequate to affect any change and therefore my only reaction is "I don't want to go to Africa." Somewhere between Rachel's haughty superiority and Leah's efforts to single-handedly save the world, I lie in my exasperation as I wash my hands of mess to big for me.

Maybe Kingsolver wanted us to feel hopeless and show that there is no small, quick solution for Africa coming from Western value. Or maybe her only motive was to open our eyes to the quality of life in other countries so we don't take our own for granted. Having lived in third-world countries, I know firsthand what she is describing. And maybe my own experience is what overwhelms me. Change cannot come from the outside. And on that level I can understand her frustration with the Nathan Prices in the world who stubbornly see Africa from Western eyes. If the bitter truth about Africa didn't inspire action on my part, at least it gave me a history lesson about a country and time I know little about and for that I highly enjoyed the book. Who doesn't love a real history lesson mashed up in an interesting story?

In the end maybe I'm not supposed to learn anything from the book, but enjoy the story of a family swallowed up by Africa so different from there mild Southern upbringing that they are left cultural shocked wanderers never taking root in either extreme that cannot understand the other half of themselves. I loved watching each of the characters mature, develop, and change as they came to understand African culture and how truly blessed they had been stepping off the plane with cake mixes and tools stuck inside their layers of clothes. I wanted to hear their stories and was vested in their outcome. The story is very well written and an excellent choice for book club discussions as you explore which characters you related to and what messages you take from the book. A powerful read that won't soon leave your memory.

This book was one of those stories that stays with you... first you race through the wonderfully written, beautifully imagined story and then you continue to remember scenes... days, months, and even years later.

Yes, years later.