Alan Paton
The opening lines of Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country exemplify the beauty and sheer lyricism of his diction:
There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills. These hills are grass-covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond the singing of it. The road climbs seven miles into them, to Carisbrooke; and from there, if there is no mist, you look down on one of the fairest valleys of Africa. About you there is grass and bracken and you may hear the forlorn crying of the titihoya, one of the birds of the veld.
Paton sustains this level of lyricism for the rest of the novel. His language sings, rolls, and skips along the tongue, much like the poetry of Dylan Thomas. The beautiful language accentuates the poignancy and heartbreak of the narrative as the story unfolds.
Set against the background of a South Africa fraught with racial tensions and the injustice of apartheid, an elderly Zulu pastor, Stephen Kumalo, sets off for Johannesburg in search of his sister, Gertrude, and his son, Absalom. Unfamiliar with large cities, Kumalo is bewildered by its size and activity. Fortunately, several people generously give of their time to assist him in his search. He retrieves Gertrude from a life of prostitution. He eventually locates Absalom, finding him in a jail cell awaiting trial for murdering a white man.
Threaded throughout this tragic story are insights on the impact of imperialism: the exploitation of the indigenous population, the struggles they face, the desperation and poverty, the breakdown of the family unit, the loss of a cohesive belief system, and the corruption and betrayal of those in relative positions of power. Paton takes an even-handed approach to the challenges. While castigating a system built on segregation and economic exploitation, he scrupulously avoids portraying the struggle as black against white. The corrupt and the advocates for equality and racial justice can be found on both sides of the racial divide, as are their acts of forgiveness, kindness, compassion, and generosity.
The characters are authentically rendered in a series of heart-wrenching scenes. Kumalo’s encounter with Absalom as he grapples to understand why and how his son could have killed a man is deeply moving. His son’s confused and halting replies reflect his fear and inability to fully grasp what has happened. A distraught James Jarvis, the victim’s father, as he reads the final words of his son, is heart-wrenching. Ironically, his son was composing an eloquent statement advocating for racial justice before he was so tragically interrupted. But perhaps the most poignant scenes are those between James Jarvis, the father of the man who was killed, with Stephen Kumalo, the father of the man who killed him. Overcome with emotion, Kumalo struggles find the right words to apologize for his son’s senseless act. The shared pain of the two fathers is rendered with compassion and delicacy.
This is a beautiful story, beautifully rendered with compassion and understanding.
Highly recommended.