Sayers: "Strong Meat"

Sayers begins her essay by noting that Christianity is a religion for adult minds, and her thought calls upon us to think maturely. This essay, together with "The Other Six Deadly Sins," beckon us to look upon good and evil in a way most people are not accustomed to doing.

The first essay captures a very important truth, one that helps explain Lewis's statement that, to the redeemed, all their past will one day be seen as a part of heaven, while to the damned, all their past will be seen as a part of hell. The kernel idea is found toward the conclusion of the essay, in a quotation from Charles Williams's work, He Came Down from Heaven: "'Repentance is no more than a passionate intention to know all things after the mode of heaven, and it is impossible to know evil as good if you insist on knowing it as evil.' For man's evil knowledge, 'there could be but one perfect remedy---to know the evil of the past itself as good, and to be free from the necessity of evil in the future---to find right knowledge and perfect freedom together; to know all things as occasions of love.'"(78)

This may seem at first blush a frightingly perverse idea. But, if one is a Christian, one's past, with all its evil, can be affirmed to the extent that it has led to repentance and works of love. Repentance involves dying to self, with all its demands, and casting oneself upon God. By the choice of willing God's will and being obedient to his commands to live in love, one's life by God's grace becomes a life of virtue, which would not have happened apart from the experiences one has come through. Good has come out of evil.

Indulge me an illustration, unsavory though it may be. I love gardening, the growing of fruits and flowers, and I am especially fond of growing the best possible lilies and dahlias. I have a friend living not too far away who keeps three fine horses on his little acreage, and in the fall of the year I ring him and ask if, when he cleans his stable, I can get some bags of the manure, and he obligingly tells me I may. I bring 15 - 20 bags home in my pick-up and begin the composting process. In my bins, I repeatedly layer 3 - 4 inches of manure on top of a like amount of garden debris, finely ground, adding some water to keep it all moist. The bins are soon full.

It is just a matter of 2 - 3 days until the mixture is really steaming, and I then begin the essential process of "turning" the mixture, that is, pitching it from one bin to another, in order to help the composting process along. This greatly accelerates the working of the bacteria that are mysteriously present. The decomposing is hastened by exposing the materials to air; the effect is similar to that of adding air to a fire. By next season the seemingly miraculous has occurred: the mixture has become beautiful black dirt. To view it one would never in the world guess from what it has come, but it works miracles in the garden.

The composting process--with the labor and time involved--is indispensable to success. I had a neighbor in our former home who, having freshly moved in, wanted to have a garden similar to ours, and thought to minimize the labor involved. He hired a load of fresh manure dumped on his garden plot in the spring of the year, spaded it in, and planted a full array of plants. The result was disastrous--a plot of deformed, yellow, struggling plants that were a pitiful sight, yielding no fruit.

You get the point. God is in the business of composting evil; he supplies all the materials and in grace enlists our working with him to effect his great purposes. Loving labor is the turning process, and all occasions are occasions for love. The end is a glorious good, a good that could not otherwise be achieved.

Sayers notes that Christ tells us to become like little children (74, 75), and every child looks forward to growing up. Affirming the process of effecting good from evil changes one's attitude towards human suffering and fuels Christian hope. It creates a positive attitude towards all experiences in life and increases one's desire for that which is ahead: attitudes quite different from those of people who have no hope, and for whom growing old is the greatest of regrets. The Christian attitude is in sharp opposition to that of those who lament old age, with a haunting regret for past sins and failures. We are the sum total of all our experiences (77); by accepting that truth, perceiving the good, and working through love to achieve greater good, we change the meaning of the past. Experiencing this process is to see in one's life the paradigm present in Christ's experiences (78, 79).This seems the only possible justification for God's abiding and sustaining the world as it is, with all its evil constantly intensifying, for as long as he has.

It must be with these thoughts in mind that we approach the next essay, "The Other Six Deadly Sins." In it our minds are focused upon the evil attitudes of the culture at large, but it is this very reality out of which good may come.

It is dangerous to ponder directly the sins of the world, as one quickly adopts self-righteous attitudes in spite of one's knowing better. Christ condemned self-righteousness more than any other sin, and the Bible repeatedly tells us not to judge. Yet Christians seem to feel they have the gift to do so. The remedy is to look within one's own heart for these attitudes in their incipient forms, repent of their presence, and maintain a watchful attitude of culpability.

The essay contains a number of perceptive indictments, alerting the reader to the prevalence and extent of human depravity, not only in individuals, but also in the world at large. Sayers remarks how the seemingly innocent motive to "raising our standard of living . . . . means that every citizen is encouraged to consider more and more complicated luxuries necessary to his well being. The gluttonous consumption of manufactured goods had become, before the war, the prime civic virtue. And why? Because machines can produce cheaply only if they produce in vast quantities; because unless the machines can produce cheaply nobody can afford to keep them running; and because, unless they are kept running, millions of citizens will be thrown out of employment, and the community will starve. . . . We need not remind ourselves of the furious barrage of advertisements by which people are flattered and frightened out of a reasonable contentment into a greedy hankering after goods that they do not really need; nor point out for the thousandth time how every evil passion---snobbery, laziness, vanity, concupiscence, ignorance, greed---is appealed to in these campaigns." (88, 89). Although the passage describes the world between the world wars, it is yet more apropos to contemporary America. The system is fueled by evil attitudes and conduct.

This is the spirit symbolically depicted as Babylon so poignantly described in Revelation 17: it is "the great harlot, who is seated upon many waters, with whom the kings of the earth have committed fornication, and with the wine of whose fornication the dwellers on earth have become drunk . . . . The woman was arrayed in purple and scarlet, and bedecked with gold and jewels and pearls, holding in her hand a golden cup full of abominations and the impurities of her fornication; and on her forehead was written a name of mystery: 'Babylon the great, mother of harlots and of earth's abominations.' And I saw the woman drunk with the blood of the saints and the blood of the martyrs of Jesus" (vv. 1 - 6).

But this is the context out of which good may come when we recognize nature and reality of evil, with all of the disasters it effects in people's lives, and see all evil as occasions to love, as Williams says. It is in such a dark economic and social context that Christians are to function as lights. Christ was defining what loving responses look like when he said: "But I say to you, Do not resist one who is evil. But if any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also; and if any one would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as well; and if any one forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to him who begs from you, and do not refuse him who would borrow from you" (Matt. 5:38 -42). All occasions are occasions for Christian love; in living and loving, we give the system its lie. The Church is not called upon to change the system, but to see it as a context in which Christians can live sensible, virtuous lives, exercising self-discipline, generosity, moderation: in short, all the Christian virtues.

Minus the redemptive purposes which proper Christian thinking brings to life, people caught in its meshes fall into attitudes of cynicism and ennui. Sayers aptly describes such attitudes: ". . . all pretension to superiority can be debunked. . . . [between the wars] Great artists were debunked by disclosures of their private weaknesses; great statesmen, by attributing to them mercenary and petty motives . . . . Religion was debunked and shown to consist of a mixture of craven superstition and greed. Courage was debunked, patriotism was debunked learning and art were debunked, love was debunked . . . . (101) Such is the pervasive spirit of our times, with which our contemporary media are full.

In another penetrating description of the contemporary spirit, Sayers comments on how contemporary unrest is really an expression of the sin of sloth: ". . . violent activity seems to offer an escape from the horrors of sloth. So the other sins hasten to provide a cloak for sloth. Gluttony offers a whirl of dancing, dining, sports, and dashing very fast from place to place to gape at beauty spots, which, when we get to them, we defile with vulgarity and waste. Covetousness rakes us out of bed at an early hour in order that we may put pep and hustle into our business. Envy sets us to gossip and scandal, to writing cantankerous letters to the papers, and to the unearthing of secrets and scavenging of dustbins. Wrath provides (very ingeniously) the argument that the only fitting activity in a world so full of evil-doers and demons is to curse loudly and incessantly: 'Whatever brute and blackguard made the world'; while lust provides that round of dreary promiscuity that passes for bodily vigor. But these are all disguises for the empty heart and the empty brain and the empty soul of acedia [ennui] (104). It is for Christians to be on guard, lest in any wise this description fits them.

Life lived according to Christ's precepts is in every way characterized by the opposite of such attitudes. The world in which we find ourselves is the right place for the generating and perfecting of Christian virtues.

Things Fall Apart: Chapters 19 - end

Achebe achieves a balanced and objective presentation of two cultures: the Igbo, and the Western Christian. The problem the text confronts is well expressed by Ajofia, speaking of the missionary Mr. Smith: ". . . he does not understand our customs, just as we do not understand his. We say he is foolish because he does not know our ways, and perhaps he says we are foolish because we do not know his" (191). The result is tragic confrontation.

Part Two ends with Okonkwo, his seven year exile completed, giving a great feast of gratitude for the people of Mbanta. An elder responds with a speech of gratitude to Okonkwo, and in it he expresses fear that their culture is giving way to that of "an abominable religion. Part Three shows how that is happening.

Back in Umuofia, Okonkwo determines to regain his former position of prestige and power as the strong man of the village. His hope resides in his five sons and his daughters, wanting them all to marry well. But, alas, all is not well in the village. Not only the outcast and lowly-born of the tribe have become Christian, but also some "worthy men," such as Obguefi Ugonna. Further, the white man is imposing his laws, and many of the men of the tribe have been thrown into his prison. Okonkwo is determined to fight the white man, but his friend Obierika tells him is too late for that. Too many of their own tribe have joined the white man's religion and government.

Why is it so? The people see the benefit of the mission schools, appreciate the medical clinic and how effective the white man's medicines are, and the village is receiving economic benefits from the new trading store. Not only so, but the missionary, Mr. Brown, has ingratiated himself to the tribe by showing respect for their traditional views, taking care not to provoke their wrath, and avoiding an over-zealousness on the part of his converts, while all the while presenting the Christian message.

But, alas, Mr. Brown's health breaks, and he is replaced by Mr. Smith, whose approach is quite different. He represents a certain mentality which characterizes all too many conservative Christians. He indeed knows the Scripture, and can quote it readily, but he applies its precepts without a sense of compassion and an effort to understand the thinking of those upon whom he would lead to Christianity. His approach is one of heavy-handed coercion with no respect for those to whom he would minister.

Smith's manner encourages the over-zealous members of his native congregation, vicious confrontation ensues, and the Christian church is burned down. Achebe is clearly showing that arrogance, ignorance, and prejudice have no place in missionary activity.

Okonkwo bitterly opposes the new religion and would summon the village to arms in an effort to rid it entirely of the white man and his ways. His anger is intensified when the District Commissioner, to whom Mr. Smith has appealed for justice when his church was destroyed, summons the strong men of the village to his court with the guise of friendly discussion, but then turns upon them, handcuffs and imprisons them, imposing a heavy fine.

Released, Okonkwo kills a messenger from the white man's government, but instead of igniting a village uprising, his fellow villagers look at him with dismay. "He knew that Umuofia would not go to war. He knew because they had let the other messengers escape. They had broken into tumult instead of action. He discerned fright in that tumult. He heard voices asking: 'Why did he do it?'" (205).

The question must be asked, Is Okonkwo heroic? In what sense? He is not noble; he is not especially intelligent. He indeed has strength and stubbornness, but these alone are hardly make a warrior heroic. He is more pathetic than tragic.

The irony compounds with his suicide and ignominious burial by strangers. He intended to defend the tribal tradition and the tradition itself betrays him, for committing suicide is taboo. No Igbo may even touch his body. The tribe will make sacrifices to cleanse the land from the desecration he has wrought.

The final irony is struck by the District Commissioner's response given in the final paragraph. He sees Okonkwo as a curiosity, to whom he will devote perhaps a paragraph in the book he is planning, one that will present the "pacification of the primitive tribes" in an effort to give an authoritative depiction to his Western readers back home. Achebe's ending pronounces a cutting disdain for a purely intellectual approach to colonization and missionary activity, one that assumes an understanding it does not begin to have, one that lacks human sympathy and fellow feeling, one that refuses to recognize the dignity and extend respect to a culture other than one's own.

Chapters 12 - 18

"A man's life from birth to death was a series of transition rites which brought him nearer and nearer to his ancestors" (122). In Chapters 12 and 13 Achebe presents some of the chief of these, the rites for betrothal and of death. Achebe is showing the basic dignity and humanity of his people. Such rituals make for the general well-being and health of a community, lend social organization, order, and harmony to relationships, invest life with seriousness, and are occasions for joy and celebration.

At Exudu's funeral, Okonkwo in an excess of masculine energy inadvertently kills a young fellow celebrant. In accord with tribal justice, he must flee from the village with his family, and all his possessions must be destroyed. It may be helpful to compare this procedure to that of the cities of refuge as outlined in Mosaic law. He flees with his family to Mbanta, the village of his mother's ancestors. The event breaks Okonkwo's spirit. "His life had been ruled by a great passion--to become one of the lords of the clan. That had been his life-spring. And he had all but achieved it. Then everything had been broken" (131). Given his excessive material interests and social ambitions, together with his past attitudes and actions, the reader has a limited sympathy for him at this point; one may feel his being broken is in order. His extreme reactions to the coming of the white men tend further to alienate him from the readers' sympathies.

The text gives us three male characters whom we admire more than Okonkwo: Obierika, Uchendu, and Nwoye. Obierika is a friend of the truest kind: he has given sound and thoughtful advice, shown his sympathy and understanding, and in Okonkwo's absence from Umuofia tends his fields, harvests and sells his yams, and brings great sacks full of the money to Okonkwo in Mbanta. Uchendu attracts us by his kindly reception of Okonkwo and his family and his imparting of wise advice. But the reader's sympathies are especially with Nwoye. We have sympathized with his dismay at the tribal practice of abandoning new-born twins to die in the wilderness; we have deeply empathized with him in his sense of utter loss in the killing of Ikemefuna; and we agree with his early preference for his mother's folk-tales over his father's stories of war.

Therefore, when the missionaries come to Umuofia and Nwoye is one of their earliest converts, desiring to take advantage of their newly instituted school to learn to read and write, the reader is inclined to think favorably towards the introduction of Christianity, in spite of some of the missionaries' methods, some of which are misinformed and awkward. The initial advent of the colonialists, with their massacring an entire village, is deplorable.

The text shows the steady growth of the mission effort in spite of the clash between the white man's ways and the tribes' general reaction to them, offering a thoughtful critique which implies mistakes and misunderstandings on both sides. Nwoye is shown attracted and won first not by the doctrines of Christianity as such, but by something which appeals to the depths of his being. Achebe writes: "It was not the mad logic of the Trinity that captivated him. He did not understand it. It was the poetry of the new religion, something felt in the marrow. The hymn about brothers who sat in darkness and in fear seemed to answer a vague and persistent question that haunted his young soul---the question of the twins crying in the bush and the question of Ikemefuna who was killed. He felt a relief within as the hymn poured into his parched soul. The words of the hymn were like the drops of frozen rain melting on the dry palate of the panting earth. Nwoye's callow mind was great puzzled" (147). The appeal is first to his heart, not his head.

Things Fall Apart: Chapters 7 - 11

Having established the humanity and cultural sophistication of his people, Achebe takes us into the harsh realities of their cultural and religious practices. He is committed to presenting a full view of the Igbo culture with the traditions of its past before he introduces the advent of colonialism and missionary activity, which we will begin to see in our next reading.

The title, Things Fall Apart, suggests a departure from these ancient tribal practices. But the Igbo past includes a great deal of tribal violence. Okonkwo is an incarnation of that past. Achebe is indicating that three forces made for the departure from these violent practices: the sentiment of the village, Okonkwo's own inner humanity and sense of right, and the introduction of Judeo-Christian values.

Such are the realities that a Christian missionary must confront and work to replace with God-centered worship and values. The practices that the text presents fall under the strong Biblical condemnations of and warnings concerning idol worship. The tragedy is of course compounded when the white man comes to exploit the peoples for his own material gain (as so often happened under colonial rule), and when Christian emissaries takes an uninformed and heavy-handed approach to their task.

In the very first chapter, speaking of Okonkwo's father, we read: "Okoye said the next half a dozen sentences in proverbs. Among the Ibo the art of conversation is regarded very highly, and proverbs are the palm-oil with which words are eaten" (7). We also note in the text the insertion in italics of Igbo terms. Note what this indicates about the Igbo people. They have a linguistic sophistication and a vivid imagination. Attractive as these qualities may be, their imaginative activity generates much superstitious speculation concerning the spirit world. In this they fall prey to Satanic suggestions and practices.

Chapter 7 presents the heart-wrenching episode of the killing of Ikemefuna. We are first told of how thoroughly the boy has been integrated into his adopted family and become an object of the strong affections of Nwoye and also of Okonkwo. The fact that he had been brought into the family from another tribe as a compensation for that tribe having killed one of the Igbo girls, and that his presence was an alternative to an act of revenge, seems forgotten. But the law of an "eye for an eye" must be satisfied, and Ezeudu, a village elder, comes to announce that the time had come for Ikemefuna's killing. The Oracle had so decreed. Although stunned by the announcement, Okonkwo capitulates, joins the procession of village warriors that takes Ikemefuna to his fate, and in fact himself executes the child. Why would he do this? The decree of the Oracle must be obeyed, and he must maintain his image as the village strong man.

The text dwells upon the sense of shock and severe reactions of both Nwoye and Okonkwo. What is being suggested about Achebe's own attitude? He seems to be highlighting the severe affront which such practices offer to natural human emotions and sense of right.

Chapters 8 and 10 show tribal practices in settling issues and disputes. The first has to do with the negotiations between the respective families of a bride and groom that arrive at a bride-price agreeable to both. Chapter Ten presents the Igbo version of a court of justice, in which nine egwugwus meet in a designated house, elaborately costumed, to settle a dispute between a violent husband and a frequently beaten wife. The mystery surrounding the egwugwu house and the frightening costumes of the judges enforce the significance and authority of the judgments rendered.

Among the superstitions the Igbo's entertain to explain some of the occurrences of life is that of the ogbanje: when a mother loses a baby, the explanation is felt to be that the spirit of the child was one that desired to return to the spirit world. Ekwefi, one of Okonkwo's wives, has had the misfortune of losing several babies, and when Ezinma is born she is especially solicitous concerning the child. Ezinma becomes a favorite child of Okonkwo as well. Both hope that at last the child's spirit, the ogbanje, will decide to stay, because the child's iyi-uwa had been found by the village medicine man (80, 81). The scene of the mystified child leading the procession by a circuitous route, imaginatively supposing where the mysterious stone must lie simply because she has been commanded to do so, has a whimsy and charm of its own.

Chapter Eleven begins with a pleasant family scene of evening story-telling. But it is suddenly interrupted by Chielo, the village priestess of the earth god Agbala, who demands to take Ezinma to present her to the god. Mother and father are both seized with great consternation and protest the child is sleeping and should not be disturbed. But the priestess will not be deterred, and takes the child on a lengthy journey into the night, with the frightened mother following, as also, we learn later, did the father. To their great relief, the priestess returns Ezinma unharmed.

Given the agony and fear that such practices create among the people, how is it that the tyrannous commands of the gods are so slavishly obeyed? The answer lies in our fallen humanity. The book of Ecclesiastes tells us that God put eternity in the heart of man: people have a deep psychological need to be at peace with the supernatural. Human nature is such that it seeks for the meaning and significance of life, for inner satisfaction, and for a sense of security, and these must come from outside the self. Pagan peoples on this quest, under demonic suggestions, imagine their idols and are deeply convinced that meaning, satisfaction, and security are to be found in obeying them, or horrendous consequences will follow.

Christians have Biblical Revelation, and find true meaning, satisfaction, and security in their relationship with God in Christ. They also have the command to share the Revealed Truth. Hence Christian missionary activity. Our reading underscores its importance.

Things Fall Apart: Chapters 1 - 6

Things Fall Apart, truly a ground-breaking work, was first published in London in 1958. By its 50th anniversary, it had old over 11 million copies, and continues to be widely read today. It is the first novel written by an African about Africa to achieve international acclaim, but many have followed in its wake. With its success, Heinemann publishers brought out Achebe's sequel, No Longer at Ease, and launched the African Writers Series, with Chinua Achebe as its first editor.

Achebe was born in Ogidi, a large Ibo village in Nigeria, in 1930. As his father was a teacher-catechist for the Church Missionary Society, Achebe was raised in a Christian home and educated in a Christian mission school. However, since his grandparents and other relatives followed traditional Ibo tribal practices, he was acutely aware of his Ibo tribal heritage.

Intending to become a doctor, he entered the University of Ibadan and, changing his major to literature, took his B. A. degree in 1953. He read widely in such classical English authors as Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Joyce, Hemingway and Conrad. Appalled by the image of the African people in The Heart of Darkness, he determined that the story of Africa needed to be told by an African and began writing stories on what was to become his signature theme, the conflict between traditional African and Western cultures. Achebe came to the United States in 1972 to teach literature at the University of Massachusetts, and has been a visiting professor in various universities in the New England area.

CHAPTER SUMMARIES

Chapter One introduces us to Okonkwo by contrasting him with his father Unoka. In Chapter Two, when an Ibo girl is murdered by a neighboring tribe, Okonkwo is chosen as an emissary of war to Mbaino, and is given a young boy, Ikemefuna, and a young virgin, in return for peace. Chapter Three contrasts the farming practices of Unoka and Okonkwo, contrasting the father's easy-going ways with his son's intense ambition to become a great farmer. Chapters Four and Five give further insights into family life, showing Okonkwo sternly beating his wives and sons. That Okonkow's manner is not appreciated by the village at large is evident in their rebuke of his manner (26), and the limits of his power are evident is his subservient attitude towards the village priest (31). Chapter Six shows village and family life during the Feast of the New Yam, underscoring the importance of rituals in tribal life.

WHAT IS THE POINT OF THE STRONG CONTRAST BETWEEN OKONKWO AND UNOKA?

Okonkow's ruling motivation is to be different from his father, and most of his characteristics derive from this determination (13). Achebe is showing his people as varied and diverse as any other ethnic group. Africans are not to be defined by stereotypes. Their lives are shaped by psychological reactions that arise from their personal interrelationships, in much the same way as the lives of other people's. Achebe is striving to present an authentic picture. He avoids romanticizing or otherwise idealizing his hero. Okonkow may well be compared to Homer's Achilles, who likewise has many unadmirable characteristics.

The reaction of the village to him (26) shows that others take exception to some of Okonkow's attitudes. His subservience to the village priest, receiving his rebuke (30), also shows that he recognizes certain limitations on his behavior. In spite of his beating and shooting at his wife for a trivial offense, the family has a joyous celebration of the Feast of the New Yam, suggesting their accommodation to him, as well as his compliance, although he does not enjoy such feasting (37).

Chinua Achebe wrote: "The Heart of Darkness projects the image of Africa as 'the other world,' the antithesis of Europe and therefore of civilization, a place where man's vaunted intelligence and refinement are finally mocked by triumphant bestiality." He remarked that Conrad's Africa was a "metaphysical battlefield devoid of all recognizable humanity." Note how his text strives to correct this view, showing the Africans as an intelligent, dignified people with a well-established, well-ordered culture. They have many traits very similar to peoples everywhere.

The Igbo's frequent use of proverbs (7) and the insertion in the text of Igbo terms shows them to be an imaginative people with a keen sense of metaphor. Aristotle remarked that the ability to see metaphor was the essence of genius.

Heart of Darkness: Section Three

Joseph Conrad in The Heart of Darkness and Chinua Achebe in Things Fall Apart are offering stern critiques of colonialism. Achebe is writing in the more conventional third-person omniscient author mode, whereas Conrad is writing impressionistically and symbolically. Conrad is incorporating in his vision a very pessimistic view of human nature, and of nature itself. He is voicing a spirit of rebellion and irreligion that was particularly strong in the literature of the early modern period.

The culture of the West has essentially moved from its base in Christian humanism through a period of irregilion and rebellion to that of secularism. The spirit of Christian humanism pertained well into the nineteenth century when it began to be challenged by leading authors. The rise of Darwinian thought during the later half of the century greatly augmented the challenge and issued in the outright rebellion voiced by such authors as A. E. Housman, Algernon Swinburne, Thomas Hardy and James Joyce. This gave rise to the secular spirit that--as we well know today--attempts to ignore or dismiss religion altogether, seeing it as held only by ignorant fanatics.

We see Conrad's attitude represented in his depiction of Kurtz and Kurtz's Intended. Kurtz is a figure larger than himself: he symbolizes complete man. He is presented as a "universal genius," a musician, a painter, a writer, and especially, an idealist and an orator. The strong voice that he is able to give to his mistaken idealism renders him a complete fraud. The power of his personality together with the desire for wealth and fame lead him to exercise complete power over the native Africans, and such power precipitated his fall into sensuality and complete moral disintegration. Assuming the role of a god, he became a devil.

Conrad is not consciously writing from a Christian point of view, but from a Christian standpoint one cannot but see in his depiction of Kurtz a warning for all Christian workers. The human self perennially offers the main obstacle to the successful Christian life. Conversion is effected initially by the self dying into life: Christian baptism symbolizes the dying into life without which no individual is Christian. The constant denying of self-will is the indispensable component of effective Christian service and spiritual growth. The esteem that is often extended to Christian workers can subtly issue in self-congratulation and inadvertent self-esteem. The indispensable antidote and correction is to maintain the mind of Christ, as outlined in Phillipians chapter 2. Christ advised, "he that would be great among you, let him serve."

Kurtz's dying cry, "The horror! The horror!" (144) poses the problem of interpretation. What is meant? Is he making a pronouncement on the nature of the wilderness, hence, the nature of creation itself? The text has repeatedly presented it in its primeval state as a dark expression of evil. Marlow comments that life is "that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose" (144). Is this Kurtz's view? Or is he lamenting the great gulf in life between the ideal and actual? Marlow affirms that Kurtz's cry was a "moral victory" (146). How so? Perhaps in the sense that in dying Kurtz has attained to the clarity to view life as it really is, a clarity so few people achieve.

But is there not a Christian interpretation as well? We are told that in dying Kurtz achieved "that supreme moment of complete knowledge" (144). He can well be seen as catching a glimpse of the eternal damnation that is his destiny. His cry is rather like David's : "My heart is in anguish within me, the terrors of death have fallen upon me. Fear and trembling come upon me, and horror overwhelms me" (Psalm 55: 4, 5).

The ironic comment of the native boy who sticks his head in the door, "Mistah Kurtz--he dead." becomes the epitaph for one of the signature poems of the modern period, T. S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men." The poem begins: "We are the hollow men / We are the stuffed men / Leaning together / Headpiece filled with straw . . . . Those who have crossed / With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom [i.e., the Christian saints, who have died triumphantly] / Remember us--if at all--not as lost / Violent souls, but only / As the hollow men / the stuffed men . . . ." Eliot, like C. S. Lewis, viewed modern man from the standpoint of a full and comprehensive knowledge of the history of Western Civilization, and he saw them immensely diminished in moral and spiritual capacity, a view that is precisely opposite to modern man's view of himself. We pride ourselves for our amazing "progress" and technological prowess. Interestingly, Marlow back in the "sepulchral city" of London sees people in a similar light (146).

Marlow, entrusted with Kurtz's papers, awkwardly makes distribution of them to relevant parties, and lastly makes a visit to Kurtz's Intended to return a packet of letters and her picture. In response to her rapturous idealizations of her fiance, Marlow embarrassingly makes ambiguous comments in a desperate attempt not to disillusion her by giving any indication as to the actual circumstances of Kurtz's career and death. When she asks for his dying words, Marlow mutters that he pronounced her name, and, dumbfounded by what he has said, quickly makes his departure. "I could not tell her. It would have been too dark--too dark altogether" (155).

Thus Marlow justifies his lie to himself. But is there a sense--from Conrad's point of view--in which "The horror, the horror" could be taken as referring to the Intended (the pun value aside, though some critics would have it so)? The thematic thrust of the entire novella is to expose all religious idealism as utter sham. In Conrad's terms, the illusion of all religion is itself a horror, a great delusion.

The Return of the King: First Session

Have you ever thought of your life as a story, and wondered what type of story you are in? One of my favorite passages in The Lord of the Rings occurs in The Two Towers, in the chapter entitled "The Stairs of Cirith Ungol," as Frodo, Sam, and Gollum are taking their last meal before entering the Nameless Land. Frodo and Sam are talking of the extreme difficulties of their journey, and Frodo remarks: "Earth, air and water all seem accursed. But so our path is laid." and Sam starts musing about the people in tales of adventure, especially about "the tales that really mattered . . . . folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually--their paths were laid that way . . . . We hear about those as just went on--and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. . . . I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?" "I wonder," said Frodo, "But I don't know. And that's the way of a real tale . . . ." (407, 08)

Note the sense of destiny: "their paths are laid that way"; the need for faithful adherence to a purpose: "We hear about those as just went on"; the impossibility of judging the value of one's story from inside it; and the sense of being within a larger story that has no ending.

Anyone who has read The Lord of the Rings and felt its fascination has certainly asked, "What type of story is this?" Of the books I have looked at, among the many that have been written on Tolkien's work, the two I have found most helpful in understanding what type of story this is are Peter Kreeft's The Philosophy of Tolkien and Ralph Woods The Gospel According to Tolkien. I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the impact these two have had upon my own thinking.

Numerous polls were taken among a wide sampling of people at the close of the last century as to what was the most significant book of the century. In poll after poll Tolkien's work rose to the top. Many literary critics fumed and raged, blaming popular ignorance. No wonder, inasmuch as most of the artists whom they acclaim prefer ugliness to beauty and lawlessness to morality, scorn and dismiss goodness and see truth only in ideology or in power. But the deep longing of the human heart still cries out for the good, the true, and the beautiful. These qualities, embodied as they are in two heroic quests, form the substructure of The Lord of the Rings.

Tolkien said that his work was Christian, yet there are no references to God, to worship, or to religious ritual of any kind. In a letter to Father Robert Murray he wrote: "The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision. That is why I have not put in, or have cut out, practically all references to anything like 'religion,' to cults or practices, in the imaginary world. For the religious element is absorbed into the story and the symbolism" (The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien, Humphrey Carpenter, ed, #142). How is this so? In the manner in which his imaginative vision captures something of the truly good, true, and beautiful.

In another letter he remarked: "The mere stories were the thing. They arose in my mind as 'given' things, and as they came, separately, so too the links grew. . . yet always I had the sense of recording what was already there, somewhere, not inventing" (L. 131). Where is this "somewhere"? It is deeply embedded in the human mind, answering as it does to something in the realm of spirit, as millions of avid readers attest. A sense of the perfect, of the ideal, is in the mind: ideal kings, ideal men, ideal women, etc. Tolkien succeeds in showing us something of the nature of these ideals--of clarifying for us something that resides already in our minds--and arousing our desires toward the triumph of the good and the ultimate annihilation of evil. Flannery O'Connor defined the Christian novel as "one in which the truth as Christians know it has been used as a light to see the world by" (Mystery and Manners, 173). Hers is a good description of Tolkien's work.

Another reason why his work is Christian is that he achieves the condition and aura of myth. He remarks in a letter to a prospective publisher: "I believe that legends and myths are largely made of 'truth,'' and indeed present aspects of it that can only be received in this mode; and long ago certain truths and modes of this kind were discovered and must always reappear" (L 131). In "On Fairy Stores" he wrote: "Something really 'higher' is occasionally glimpsed in mythology: Divinity, the right to power (as distinct from its possession), the due worship. in fact, 'religion.'"

Early critics complained that The Lord of the Rings was a simple story of the conflict between good and evil. The "good guys" and the "bad guys" were too simply identified, and there was much gratuitous violence. The way the film portrays the wars furthers this view. But Tolkien's conflict is indeed raised to a higher level: he is addressing the ultimate conflict between God and Satan. He wrote: "In The Lord of the Rings the conflict is not basically about 'freedom,' though that is naturally involved. It is about God, and His sole right to divine honour. . . . Sauron desired to be a God-King, and was held to be this by his servants; if he had been victorious he would have demanded divine honour from all rational creatures and absolute temporal power over the whole world" (L. 183). God is ostensibly absent in the story (as he is in the real world), but he is present in his people who work for the triumph of good, inspiring and executing righteous acts, and opposing and defeating evil.

What is Tolkien saying about the exact form that this conflict must necessarily take? How is evil really to be defeated? What does the Bible say? Does Tolkien's presentation answer to it?

Interestingly, there is a large quantity of war imagery in Scripture. Israel fought many bloody wars at the command of God. Metaphorically, the Christian is told to assume the whole armor of God in opposing the evil one. In Rev. 19 we read: "I saw heaven opened, and there was a white horse! Its rider is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war . . ." The armies of heaven follow him, as the kings of the earth gather with their armies to make war; they are all slain, and "all the birds were gorged with their flesh."

But what about such passages as that of Christ commanding: "You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I way to you, do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also," etc. (Matt. 5:38). Christians are instructed not to return evil for evil, but to avoid conflict, to be peacemakers, to serve others. How one is to reconcile these two seemingly conflicting positions is a challenge. As you read, note how Tolkien rises to the occasion.

He gives us two heroes, Aragorn and Frodo. They embody two views of the nature of true heroism. At the ending of the first volume of the story, or Book Two, they are separated, and they go their separate ways throughout Books Three, Four, Five, and well into Book Six, until each has executed his concept of the nature of heroism.

Aragorn represents the warrior-hero type, and as such bears comparison with the ancient archetype embodied in such mythical figures as Achilles and Aeneas. As you read, look for ways in which he is distinguished from his secular counterparts. He is a fascinating figure in the story. We are told early on that he is a king incognito. He attaches himself to Frodo at the outset of the journey as Frodo's guide and helper, fulfilling a servant role for as long as they are together. He is, in a sense, remarkably like Christ in his presence with believers. After they are separated, Aragorn engages in fierce battles, while Frodo proceeds on his quest separately with Sam, and later with Gollum as well.

Is Frodo a hero of a higher type? In many ways he is the opposite of the secular archetype of hero: he is humble, self-effacing, reluctant. One is reminded of Paul's remarking in the first epistle to the Corinthians that God chooses what is foolish in the world to shame the wise and what is weak to shame the strong. Frodo's journey is one of faith, his goal the final overcoming of evil, his means renunciation. Evil is to be overcome by the utter destruction of the Ring, the symbol of the exercise of power in dominating the earth and other people. Only God has a right to such power. This higher purpose will never be accomplished by opposing evil with its own means, the exercise of power; i.e. war.

As you read, note carefully how Tolkien develops and relates these two concepts of heroism. Also, consider how the following statement of Tolkien's is worked out: "I do not think that even Power or Domination is the real centre of my story. It provides the theme of a War, about something dark and threatening enough to seem at that time of supreme importance, but that is mainly a setting for characters to show themselves. The real theme for me is about something much more permanent and difficult: Death and immortality: the mystery of the love of the world in the hearts of a race doomed to leave and seemingly lose it; the anguish in the hearts of a race doomed not to leave it, until its whole evil-aroused story is complete. But if you have now read Vol. III and the story of Aragorn, you will have perceived that . . . ." (L. 186). As you read, see if you perceive it.

Heart of Darkness: Section Two

Section Two takes us up the river with Marlow to Kurtz's station. Marlow has been hearing rumors and remarks about Kurtz ever since he arrived at the first trading station. He has learned that Kurtz sends more ivory out of the jungle than all the other traders put together (74), that he is an exceptional man, of great importance to the company (79), and that he is "an emissary of pity and science and progress" . . . a man of "higher intelligence, wide sympathies, a singleness of purpose" (83). What is that singleness of purpose? Can economic and humanitarian purposes be successfully united into one? The section begins with Marlow overhearing a conversation in which Kurtz is envied and condemned as a scoundrel, and Marlow's curiosity is intensified.

As he steams up the Congo, Marlow feels the immense mystery of the jungle as though he were "travelling back into the earliest beginnings of the world, penetrating into the presence of an "implacable force brooding over an inscrutable intention" (95). The jungle appears an evil entity, and he realizes that he is surrounded by a crew of cannibals on a rickety steamer that has run out of provisions. He comments" "It was unearthly, and the men were--No, they were not inhuman. . . that was the worst of it--this suspicion of their not being inhuman" (98). Why is this thought so unnerving? He begins to realized that there is a breadth to human nature of which he has not been aware. This realization must be met, not with principles, but with a "deliberate belief." Why won't principles do? Because they are held by the mind only. Belief encompasses the emotions and plumbs the true nature of a person, issuing in commitment and action.

The description of the native fireman (98, 99) vividly depicts Marlow's view of the natives. Suddenly an unearthly shriek arises from the jungle, and as they near Kurtz's station, they are startled to be met with a hail of arrows. We are told (108) that the natives fear invasion and are merely being protective, but the white pilgrims on the steamer do not understand the attack in that light and begin firing back, randomly, into the jungle. Marlow's native helmsman is struck and killed by a spear.

Marlow desperately enlists a novice to continue steering and tries to cope with the attack. But he is preoccupied with his desire to met Kurtz, to hear his voice, his words. Marlow wonders: are his words "a pulsating stream of light, or the deceitful flow from the heart of an impenetrable darkness"? (113) For knows that Kurtz has fallen prey to savage rituals (115, 117), and the absurdity of the situation hits him.

As Marlow recalls Kurtz's words, the story of his tragic spiritual fall unfolds (117). Kurtz had accepted the role of a supernatural being to the natives, and had assumed the authority and prerogatives of a god, exercising complete power over the natives. If you are a part of the Saturday group that has been discussing Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, you no doubt recognize that what Conrad is saying here is very like what Tolkien has in mind in the symbol of the Ring: the great wrong of exercising coercive power over other human beings. Kurtz's arrogance degenerates his soul to the extent of his writing a postscript to the pamphlet he entrusted to Marlow: "Exterminate all the brutes!"

The mystery of Kurtz is further deepened as Marlow, when he arrives at Kurtz station, is met by a curiously dressed Russian who attests that Kurtz "has enlarged my mind," and has the utmost reverence for him. How can this be? Conrad is deepening the mystery of human nature by suggesting how gullible people can be, how easily they may be taken in by an idealistic lie.

Heart of Darkness: Section one

The British Empire in the 19th Century was immense; the Brits boasted that the sun never set on the Union Jack, as indeed it did not. Among those nations the empire included were Canada, Australia, Egypt, South Africa, Kenya, India and Nigeria. Britain's interests were primarily economic; she was not interested in governing these countries any more than was necessary for her economic purposes. Since she was the first of the nations to industrialize, her plants needed raw materials for manufacture and markets to sell her goods. She desired the amassing of wealth through free trade. As a means to furthering this end she brought the British version of civilization: the "white man's burden."

For the purposes of this study our interests are twofold. First, What is Conrad saying about British imperialism? How is he evaluating it? Second, what are the implications for us as Americans, as America today seeks to impose her values on our world?

The Heart of Darkness begins with 5 seaman sitting on the deck of a yawl at evening in the London harbor. Behind them stretches the London metropolis, "the biggest and greatest town on earth," but we are repeatedly told that a "mournful gloom" rests upon it. The captain standing before them was the Director of Companies, "trustworthiness personified," but his work was "within the brooding gloom" (53).

The narrator's attention is focused upon Marlow who, sitting Buddha-like, begins to relate one of his "inconclusive experiences" (58). Note what type of man he is. Later in our reading we are told he greatly values work and hates lying above all things (85, 88). He muses that London itself was once "one of the dark places on the earth" (55) until the Romans and the Gauls brought civilization to it. "The conquest of the earth . . . is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much. What redeems it is the idea only (58). We are not told the precise nature of that idea. What does Marlow have in mind? Probably the ideal of humanistic attitudes.

As Christians we must conclude that the idea which best redeems an uncivilized society is derived from Judeo-Christian values. What are these? The importance of the individual, of freedom of choice, of the rule of law, are among them. It is only in the instilling of such values in a people that the "conquest of the earth" may be said to be redeemed. Whether or not Conrad understood this is unclear from the text; he focuses on the negative underside of things, and leaves the reader to conclude for himself the nature of the "redeeming idea."

Marlow begins by relating how as a child he gazed at maps (this is strongly autobiographical) and dreamed of sailing up rivers, especially the Congo, that resembled "an immense snake uncoiled" as it serpintined its way into the heart of Africa (60). To receive his assignment he visits the headquarters of the Continental Trading Company in Europe (probably Brussels) where, in the office he meets women that remind him of those mythical figures that guard the entrance to the underworld. In mythology there were three: Clotho, who spun the thread of life, Lachesis, who measured its length, and Atropos, who cut the thread.

After being examined by a doctor, who wants to measure his skull, he visits his aunt to bid her good-bye. She represents a blind idealism which Marlow quickly sees as being completely out of touch with reality. In an aside he remarks that women in general are out of touch with reality, a remark which not only tells the reader more about the character of Marlow, but also has thematic significance for the story. Since the reader disagrees with him on his assessment of the feminine nature, one is inclined to suspect other of his judgments, which is Conrad's intention, as he is writing in the impressionist literary genre.

After a slow and tedious trip by sea, Marlow arrives at the company station where he encounters blacks in the most abject and inhuman conditions, some in chains as criminals, herded by other blacks with guns, and many lying prone "in attitudes of pain, abandonment, and despair (71). In contrast to them is an immaculately dressed bookkeeper, whose appearance and bearing are completely incongruous with his surroundings. Marlow soon discovers that the prevailing motivation of all the whites he meets is simply to make money (76).

Soon Marlow begins to hear about Kurtz, a figure about whom everyone stands in awe. He is a "first class agent," who sends more ivory than all other agents put together (74), and who, at the same time has a reputation for being "an emissary of pity and science and progress." When Marlow is accused of being one of "the new gang--the gang of virtue" (83), he says he was suddenly enlightened, and almost laughs. What insight has he achieved? That Kurtz is using idealism as a cover-up for his own ambitions for wealth and personal advancement? Is it impossible to wed humanist idealism with ambitions for economic gain?

Reading Classics at the Wade

This fall we will be considering some fiction and autobiographies that present experiences of native Africans: colonialist attitudes, ancient customs and traditions of the Igbo peoples in Nigeria, and classic autobiographies of escaped slaves. Joseph Conrad's The Heart of Darkness offers a commentary on colonialist attitudes, Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart depicts Igbo customs and traditions, and Frederick Douglas's Narrative together with Harriet Jacobs Incidents present graphic accounts of their experiences in slavery and in escaping. This lecture gives some background for each of these authors and some suggestions for approaching The Heart of Darkness, which we will be considering next session.

Among those authors whose lives are utterly fascinating Joseph Conrad's certain ranks high. His life falls into three distinct phases: his youth in Poland, his years on the sea, and his career as an author who became a master stylist and a leading writer of impressionist literature. He was born in 1874 into the life of the Polish landed gentry as Jozef Korzeniowski. Poland was at that time under Russian rule and his father, being on the wrong side of the political fence, was exiled into Russia. Conrad's mother died when he was 8, and he was raised by his uncle.

As a youth Conrad was an avid reader, particularly of the works, in translation, of Dickens and Shakespeare. But he was especially fascinated by the study geography and the lives of men who devoted themselves to the exploration of land and sea. One day as a child gazing at a map of Africa, he put his finger down on the Congo River and declared that one day he would go there. The wish was realized in 1890 when as a steamboat captain he navigated up the Congo, an experience that offered the inspiration for The Heart of Darkness.

He astounded his uncle when as a teenager he declared his determination to leave his land-locked Poland and go to sea. Finally securing permission, with the help of a tutor he made his way down to Marseilles, France, where in 1874 he entered the French navy, and his naval career began. As a neophyte sailor he had many adventures, including participating in smuggling goods into Spain during the Carlos uprisings.

Conrad recounts how--in 1874 or 75, he forgot which--he first heard words in the English language when a sailor shouted "Look out, there," and was enchanted by the sound. Joining the English merchant marine, he rises in its ranks to its highest by 1886. In 1890 he realized the dream of his youth by taking command of a river steamer and sailing up the Congo. But he contracted malaria, which necessitated a year of convalescence in England. Having made an attempt at writing a story--Almayer's Folly--prior to this time, and finding it well received, he soon abandoned his life on the sea, married, and quickly rose to become a master writer of English fiction.

Musing on his adopted career, he writes: "The truth of the matter is that my faculty to write in English is as natural as any other aptitude with which I might have been born. I have a strange and overpowering feeling that it had always been an inherent part of myself. English was for me neither a matter of choice nor adoption. The merest idea of choice had never entered my head. And as to adoption--well, yes, there was adoption; but it was I who was adopted by the genius of the language, which, directly I came out of the stammer stage, made me its own so completely that its very idioms, I truly believe, had a direct action on my temperament and fashioned my still plastic character." He speaks of "the sheer appeal of the language, my quickly awakened love for its prose cadences, a subtle and unforeseen accord of my emotional nature with its genius . . . You may take it from me that if I had not known English I wouldn't have written a line for print, in my life." (Cushwa, An Introduction to Conrad, 209, 210).

Conrad entered the fiction-writing profession at a time when its leading English practitioners--e.g., Henry James, Ford Maddox Ford--were experimenting with point of view, and developed what is know as literary impressionism. Quickly adopting the technique, Conrad becomes one of its masters, and The Heart of Darkness is a good example. Impressionism is motivated by the desire to explore the nature of personal reality. The Impressionists ask, "Where does reality really lie?" and answer, "Not simply out there, in the external world, but rather within the human breast." They therefore turn away from the objective points of view of an author like Dickens and position in their writings one or more characters from whose consciousness they relate their story.

Impressionist techniques have many advantages, among them an enhanced sense of immediacy on the part of the reader, together with a certain aesthetic distance, as the reader is seeing external details "second-hand," as it were. Impressionist authors carefully depict the development of awareness on the part of a viewing consciousness, thus giving them an additional tool for keeping the interest of the reader. The focus is often on confronting a mystery and exploring various interpretations of it. The convention of the unreliable narrator quickly develops, so that readers feel, were they in such a situation, they would see it differently. Thus impressionist stories often are ambiguous, inviting more than one interpretation, each quite plausible.

Therefore, as you read The Heart of Darkness, note carefully what type of person Marlow is. We see him becoming fascinated with the mystery of Kurtz and gradually learning about this strange idealist. Precisely what does Marlow learn, from his adventure up the Congo, about Africa, about Kurtz, about the human nature? Why does he draw the conclusions he does? Do you agree, or take issue? To what extent do your Christian convictions shape your own impressions? We should have much to take about in our forthcoming sessions.

Chinua Achebe, in Things Fall Apart, adopts a more traditional third-person point of view to his story. His purpose is to give a fair and objective presentation of the time-honored customs and traditions of the African tribe in which he was himself born and raised. Born in 1930 into a Christian family in the Igbo tribe of Nigeria, he was raised in what he describes as the "crossroads of cultures." "On one arm of the cross," he explains,"we sang hymns and read the Bible night and day. On the other, my father's brother and his family, blinded by heathenism, offered food to idols." He was educated in a missionary school and an African university, where he read much colonial literature. He recounts how he unconsciously identified with the white man in these stories until he read The Heart of Darkness and realized that he really belonged with the savages Marlow saw dancing on the shores of the Congo, and he condemned Conrad's work as racist. When Things Fall Apart was widely hailed as a master novel, he continued to write novels in which he explores the nature of European colonialism and its effect upon the African peoples.

Things Fall Apart does not deal with the horrendous wrong of the slave trade, but an untold quantity of native Africans were captured, herded on ships like cattle, and taken to Europe and America to be sold into slavery. In America, several Africans managed to escape and gain a measure of freedom in the North. Some fifty book-length slave narratives exist, most of them published by the Abolitionist Movement in the North. Frederick Douglas's Narrative and Harriet Jacob's Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl are the most famous.

Douglas was born and raised a slave in Maryland, from which he devised his escape in 1838. A self-educated, brilliant man, he rose to become a powerful orator and ardent advocate for emancipation of his fellow Africans. During the days of Reconstruction, he was appointed to various governmental positions, finally becoming minister to Haiti in 1889. He publishes several accounts of his experiences; we will read the first of these, published in 1845 and very influential in effecting Emancipation.

As horrendous as the fate of male salves was, that of female slaves was still worse. Harriet Jacobs's graphic account of her experiences brings into sharp focus the plight of the black woman. If time affords us opportunity, we will close on a lighter note, considering how Joel Chandler Harris's Adventures of Briar Rabbit offers, in quite another vein, comments on Southern social realities.

Reading Classics at the Wade

Time and Location: Wednesday afternoons, 2:00 - 3:00, Lecture Room at the Wade Center, corner of Washington and Lincoln Streets, Wheaton, Il.

Texts: Achebe, Chinua. Things Fall Apart. Anchor Books.

Conrad, Joseph. The Heart of Darkness. Signet

Douglas, Frederick. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglas, an American Slave. Penguin.

Jacobs, Harriet. Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl. Signet.

Harris, Joel Chandler. Tales of Uncle Remus: Adventures of Briar Rabbit. Puffin.

Description: Our readings for this session will focus upon the nature of native African culture and the exploitation of native Africans during the nineteenth century by certain Europeans and Americans. The Heart of Darkness presents the experiences of Marlow, a steamship captain, as he travels up the Congo into the heart of Africa in pursuit of Kurtz, a mysterious European idealist, and his subsequent disillusionment both with European colonialism and with human nature itself.

Things Fall Apart, written by a native Nigerian, gives a full documentation of the culture and traditions of the Ibo people and the impact upon them of colonialism and early missionary activity. Frederick Douglas and Harriet Jacobs both give grim accounts of their experiences of growing up in American slavery and of their subsequent escapes. Both became strong voices in the Abolitionist movement. We will end the session with a quick look at the amusing Tales of Uncle Remus, noting how they subtly suggest some attitudes of the blacks toward the whites in the South.

Readings:

September 7: Introduction

14: The Heart of Darkness, Section I

28: The Heart of Darkness, Section II

October 5: Things Fall Apart, Chapters 1 - 6

12: Chapters 7 - 11

19: Chapters 12 - 18

26: Chapters 19 - end.

November 2: Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglas, Chapters 1 - 5

9: Chapters 6 to p. 74

16: P. 74 to end

23: No Session

30: Incidents in the life of a Slave Girl, first half

December 7: Finish Incidents

14: Select tales of Briar Rabbit