I had to return this to the library before I had the chance to read the introduction (which, thanks to a teacher in high school, I always save for last; after all, the introduction was written after its author read the book, and I've found that this order makes much more sense). It's unfortunate, because I wanted more insight on why the book is such a vaunted classic.
Although I can appreciate the intimate capturing of a way of life and a mode of thought, and although it added depth to some of the West African art I'd studied, I was a bit disappointed by the literary value, which didn't seize me the way a classic often does. In retrospect, the austere style was somewhat reminiscent of Hemingway, although without the lucid dialogue. It was simple, straightforward, and captured a sense of the oral storytelling tradition, although I wasn't particularly entranced or engaged.
Anybody want to step in here and enlighten me?
Showing posts with label African. Show all posts
Showing posts with label African. Show all posts
November 17, 2008
Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart
Posted by CëRïSë at 6:18 PM 0 comments
Labels: African, fiction, November 2008
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