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3.77 AVERAGE
3.77 AVERAGE
challenging
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
This is a story about fathers and sons, crime and violence, forgiveness and repentance, fear and love, injustice and compassion. Set in South Africa, on the verge of apartheid (apartheid became official law the year this book was published), it unequivocally displays the worst of the consequences of racial relations in South Africa at the time. I'll be frank, while I know about apartheid, my education in the time period is pretty sparse, so a lot of the this political and social context was new to me. I cannot say how accurate a depiction the book truly is (other than I am inclined to believe it, based on my research of Paton's life), but it certainly felt like a nuanced, careful, and honest telling, even if I suspect some perspectives have not aged very well. However, the most powerful aspects of this story were the personal, not the political. And that is what allows the political message to make the strong impact it does.
I realized this book was something special when Book II started, and Paton introduces a new narrator, one I was not expecting. I will be vague because the back summary of this book was vague and I think going into this story without knowing a lot, simply letting his writing take you where it wants, is the best experience. But Books II and III added layers of emotion to this story that I think were the true highlights (especially after some frankly repetitive and at times boring scenes in book 1).
As I was writing this review and thinking about what to rate this book, I went back through my annotations and was struck again by the beautiful writing. I had so many moving quotes marked, and was reminded of the way Paton characterized South Africa. One of my favorite themes in this book was how and why people feared each other, and what this fear does to not just an individual, but an entire people. The ending broke me just a little bit. Anyway, here is a boatload of some of my favorite quotes:
I realized this book was something special when Book II started, and Paton introduces a new narrator, one I was not expecting. I will be vague because the back summary of this book was vague and I think going into this story without knowing a lot, simply letting his writing take you where it wants, is the best experience. But Books II and III added layers of emotion to this story that I think were the true highlights (especially after some frankly repetitive and at times boring scenes in book 1).
As I was writing this review and thinking about what to rate this book, I went back through my annotations and was struck again by the beautiful writing. I had so many moving quotes marked, and was reminded of the way Paton characterized South Africa. One of my favorite themes in this book was how and why people feared each other, and what this fear does to not just an individual, but an entire people. The ending broke me just a little bit. Anyway, here is a boatload of some of my favorite quotes:
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 a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much
Deep down the fear of a man who lives in a world not made for him, whose own world is slipping away, dying, being destroyed, beyond any recall.
Who indeed knows the secret of the earthly pilgrimage? Who indeed knows why there can be comfort in a world of desolation? Now God be thanked that there is a beloved one who can lift up the heart in suffering, that one can play with a child in the face of such misery. Now God be thanked that the name of a hill is such music, that the name of a river can heal. Aye, even the name of a river that runs no more.
Who indeed knows the secret of the earthly pilgrimage? Who knows for what we live, and struggle and die? Who knows what keeps us living and struggling, while all things break about us? Who knows why the warm flesh of a child is such comfort, when one's own child is lost and cannot be recovered? Wise men write many books, in words too hard to understand. But this, the purpose of our lives, the end of all our struggle, is beyond all human wisdom.
Sadness and fear and hate, how they well up in the heart and mind, whenever one opens pages of these messengers of doom. Cry for the broken tribe, for the law and the custom that is gone. Aye, and cry aloud for the man who is dead, for the woman and children bereaved. Cry, the beloved country, these things are not yet at an end. The sun pours down on the earth, on the lovely land that man cannot enjoy. He knows only the fear of his heart.”
What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another? What broke when he could bring himself to thrust down the knife into the warm flesh, to bring down the axe on the living head, to cleave down between the seeing eyes, to shoot the gun that would drive death into the beating heart?
Sorrow is better than fear. Fear is a journey,a terrible journey, but sorrow is at least an arrival.
When the storm threatens, a man is afraid for his house. But when the house is destroyed, there is something to do. About a storm he can do nothing, but he can rebuild a house.
Allow me a minute...And nothing more. Those fingers would not write any more. Allow me a minute, I hear a sound in the kitchen. Allow me a minute, while I go to my death. Allow me a thousand minutes, I am not coming back anymore.
Aye, but the hand that had murdered had once pressed the mother's breast into the thirsting mouth, had stole into the father's hand when they went out into the dark. Aye, but the murderer afraid of death had once been a child afraid of the night.
...he had come to pray for the child that no prayer could save any more...here were three letters from him now, and in all of them he said, If I could come back to Ndotsheni, I would not leave any more...His heart went out in a great compassion for the boy that must die, who promised now, when there was no more mercy, to sin no more.
Gorgeous language! It is clear why this piece of literature ends up on many must-read lists. The story and characters compel me to learn more about Apartheid and to understand how it could exist in the world. I would read it again and again.
challenging
hopeful
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
A prophetic message to South Africa, delicately exploring the impossible balance between tribal law and the new democracy.
In it, he depicts a miners' strike where 3 are killed by police. In reality this occurred in 2012, 64 years after the book's publication. At Marikana, 34 were killed and 173 injured in the exact way Paton described.
A beautiful story of loss and reconciliation, underpinned by a serious message that has gone unheeded.
More relevant than ever.
In it, he depicts a miners' strike where 3 are killed by police. In reality this occurred in 2012, 64 years after the book's publication. At Marikana, 34 were killed and 173 injured in the exact way Paton described.
A beautiful story of loss and reconciliation, underpinned by a serious message that has gone unheeded.
More relevant than ever.
The main triumph of this book is the beautiful writing. Like idk if the dude writes poetry bit he should. I thought it was interesting how much he was really saying how simple complicated situations can be if you have compassion. I was a little nervous he was going to get racist or white saviory at the end but I think he pulled it back just in time
“For there is enough hating in our land already.”
This novel was written over 70 years ago, published in 1948, the year the segregationist apartheid policies were first implemented in South Africa. The tale starts with an ageing Zulu parson, Stephen Kumalo, taking the train from the village of Ndotsheni to Johannesburg to search for his delinquent son.
As Paton so eloquently writes, bigger isn’t always better. In Johannesburg, Kumalo’s daughter and son have fallen upon hard times, and it is up to the parson to use his influence within the church network to bring them to safety.
For the younger generation Stephen Kumalo and his ilk are the white man’s dogs, stuck in their ways unable to change. The younger generation dream of a change in which whites and blacks live side by side in peace and prosperity and Nkosi Sikelele iAfrika (God bless Africa – the pan-African anthem of solidarity) becomes a reality.
The land around the village is parched and a young African from the city comes with new farming techniques to stop soil erosion, by ploughing around the hills not up and down.
The older generation in the characters of Msimangu, Stephen Kumalo, and James Jarvis showed magnanimity toward the end of the novel. Even though a heinous crime had been committed, the fathers were not going to stand for the crimes of their sons and might even accept that a change is coming to a new South Africa.
Paton touches on almost every level of trouble in post-colonial South Africa: racism, classism, elitism, residual imperial 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 complex 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.
When Stephen Kumalo visits the pregnant woman abandoned by his delinquent son, Paton captures the bleakness of her situation:
Alan Paton served as the principal of Diepkloof Reformatory for young (native African) offenders from 1935 to 1949, where he introduced progressive reforms. Paton himself adopted a peaceful opposition in protests against apartheid. His passport was confiscated upon his return from New York in 1960, where he had been presented with the annual Freedom Award. It was not returned to him for ten years.
This novel was written over 70 years ago, published in 1948, the year the segregationist apartheid policies were first implemented in South Africa. The tale starts with an ageing Zulu parson, Stephen Kumalo, taking the train from the village of Ndotsheni to Johannesburg to search for his delinquent son.
As Paton so eloquently writes, bigger isn’t always better. In Johannesburg, Kumalo’s daughter and son have fallen upon hard times, and it is up to the parson to use his influence within the church network to bring them to safety.
For the younger generation Stephen Kumalo and his ilk are the white man’s dogs, stuck in their ways unable to change. The younger generation dream of a change in which whites and blacks live side by side in peace and prosperity and Nkosi Sikelele iAfrika (God bless Africa – the pan-African anthem of solidarity) becomes a reality.
The land around the village is parched and a young African from the city comes with new farming techniques to stop soil erosion, by ploughing around the hills not up and down.
The older generation in the characters of Msimangu, Stephen Kumalo, and James Jarvis showed magnanimity toward the end of the novel. Even though a heinous crime had been committed, the fathers were not going to stand for the crimes of their sons and might even accept that a change is coming to a new South Africa.
Paton touches on almost every level of trouble in post-colonial South Africa: racism, classism, elitism, residual imperial 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 complex 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.
When Stephen Kumalo visits the pregnant woman abandoned by his delinquent son, Paton captures the bleakness of her situation:
Will he ever return? he (Stephen Kumalo) asked, indifferently, carelessly.
-I do no know, she said. She said it tonelessly, hopelessly, as one who is used to waiting, to desertion. She said it as one who expects nothing from her seventy years upon the earth. No rebellion will come out of her, no demands, no fierceness. Nothing will come out of her at all, save the children of men, who will use her, leave her, forget her.”
P72
Alan Paton served as the principal of Diepkloof Reformatory for young (native African) offenders from 1935 to 1949, where he introduced progressive reforms. Paton himself adopted a peaceful opposition in protests against apartheid. His passport was confiscated upon his return from New York in 1960, where he had been presented with the annual Freedom Award. It was not returned to him for ten years.
Cry, The Beloved Country, had me in between the feelings of wanting to cry, yet gave me a cause to extremely love. The writing style was very different than what I was used to but after some time the words seemed to have weighed more to me than how they were written. At times I felt the chapters dragged and consisted of a language I didn’t understand, but overall by the end I throughly enjoyed the storyline, the characters and the way everything was portrayed.
This story takes us along the journey of Kumalo and Jarvis, both from two different worlds, two different cultures, two different circumstances but both along the same journey of finding what they lost. The journey was hard but what was just as hard was losing someone you held dear. A tragedy, us humans can never truly comprehend. And sometimes the hardest part isn’t just losing them but it’s the way they were lost. The questions provoked, begging us to wonder if we could had done something different to save them. But all life’s a journey and sometimes we need the struggle to understand our journey to the fullest.
This story takes us along the journey of Kumalo and Jarvis, both from two different worlds, two different cultures, two different circumstances but both along the same journey of finding what they lost. The journey was hard but what was just as hard was losing someone you held dear. A tragedy, us humans can never truly comprehend. And sometimes the hardest part isn’t just losing them but it’s the way they were lost. The questions provoked, begging us to wonder if we could had done something different to save them. But all life’s a journey and sometimes we need the struggle to understand our journey to the fullest.
I read this for summer reading in high school. Really powerful book, moved me to tears after reading it almost. Literary classic!