The discussions we've had during the study of the two literary works we've had in class have been quite pleasant for me. I've really enjoyed hearing everyone's thoughts and perceptions and find class time quite insighful and enjoy the supplemental ideas and observations. With that in mind, let me just say that going into Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart I found myself to be quite guarded simply because of my views on Achebe himself. The guy appears to be an arrogant ass when it comes to his opinion of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. I was skeptical as I started to read TFA and was sure I would find hostility layered throughout the text. I was wrong.

TFA was a beautifully written story and I found it easy to sympathize with Okonkwo. I don't know why I was so surprised that I would enjoy this text. I know Achebe isn't the first person to come across as grumpy yet still produce amazing art. For instance, I'm sure everyone is familiar with Ludwig Van Beethoven. Known for his temper and being difficult, yet he still was able to compose tear enducing work. His Symphony #7 in A can get me a little weepy.
For your listening enjoyment:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdfNTO_o-3k

Another artist that I've been told was a grumpy was author Norman Maclean. I had a professor at Walla Walla University tell me he met one of Macleans son and was told that he was just plain mean sometimes. And yet his opening paragraph to A River Runs Through It is one of the most incredible openings to any book I've every read. I can't tell you why I like it so much, I've reread it numerous times and I still don't understand half of it but I recognize that it's significant and important.

Chapter 1
Paragraph 1
In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing. We lived at the junction of great trout rivers in western Montana, and our father was a Presbyterian minister and a fly fisherman who tied his own flies and taught others. He told us about Christ's disciples being fishermen, and we were left to assume, as my brother and I did, that all first-class fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly fishermen and that John, the favorite, was a dry-fly fisherman.

I don't know, maybe it's just Brad Pitt in my subconcious, but I'm pretty sure it is the language that touches me.

A passage in TFA really stood out to me. It wasn't because of its purpose or significance to the text, it was just the fluid use of Achebe's words and the imagery. I'm going to sound beyond pretentious and cliche here, but I felt as if I was there, within the tribe.

Chapter 13
Paragraph 1
Go-di-di-go-go-di-go. Di-go-go-di-go. It was the ekwe talking to the clan. One of the things everyman learned was the language of the hollowed-out wooden instrument. Diim! Diim! Diim! boomed the cannon at intervals.
The first cock had not crowed, and Umuofia was still swallowed up in sleep and silence when the ekwe began to talk, and the cannon shattered the silence. Men stirred on their bamboo beds and listened anxiously. Somebody was dead. The cannon seemed to rend the sky. Di-go-go-di-go-di-di-go-go floated in the message-laden night air. The faint and distant wailing of women settled like a sediment of sorrow on the earth.

The last line is one of the prettiest assemblage of words in literature that I have ever read. The use of alliteration and personification adds a poetic feel to it. With Achebe describing Okonkwo's villiage and people in that way, it's easy for me to see why he was willing to fight for his land, family and traditions.

Here are some closing thoughts for my Free-for-All blog post. I couldn't help but think of the lyrics to Leonard Cohens song "Hallelujah". Maybe the Biblical references are a bit of a stretch, but I felt the songs message was parallel to Okonkwo's quest to preserve everything he knew. In the end, maybe his death was his final "hallelujah". God, I'm cheesy.

Here's some Jeff Buckley covering Mr. Cohen. I think of all the variations this song has had, this is the best interpretation.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AratTMGrHaQ
"Hallelujah"
Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like thisThe fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied youTo a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Baby I have been here beforeI know this room,
I've walked this floorI used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah
You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of lightIn every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah