103. The Poisonwood Bible - Barbara Kingsolver

This is a great novel by Barbara Kingsolver about a missionary family (the Prices) that goes to the Congo in the 1960's. The story is narrated by the five women of the Price family: the mother, Orleanna; Rachel; Leah and Adah (twins); and Ruth May.
Each girl goes through her own struggle as she tries to adapt to the African village and to her father's issues with women and borderline narcissism. I could relate to the girls' struggle based on my experiences when I went to live in Benin when I was in seventh grade (in the story, the girls actually visit Benin and go to some of the same places that I did - I was thrilled, it was quite accurate). This part in particular made me smile - Rachel is upset that her father, the overzealous Baptist minister, seems to want to stay in the Congo forever. It reminded me a little of myself back then, melodrama and all:

I screamed and kicked the furniture until one whole leg came off the table and threw a hissy fit they could probably hear all the way to Egypt. Listen, what else can a girl to but try. Stay here? When everybody else gets to go home and do the bunny hop and drink Cokes? It is a sheer tapestry of justice.

This part made me laugh out loud (also, from Rachel):

I stood and prayed to the Lord Jesus if he was listening to take me home to Georgia, where I could sit down in a White Castle and order a hamburger without having to see its eyes roll back in its head and the blood come spurting out of its corpse.

The girls' father is determined to stay in the Congo and "dunk the head of every last person in that village into the river." But after the youngest daughter (Ruth May) dies, and the women realize that they have worn out their welcome in the village, they give up and each go their separate ways.
To me, this is where the story got the most interesting. Rachel stays in the Congo - though she seems to have the most contempt for Africa out of everyone in the family. She is very beautiful and conceited - characteristics that probably ultimately help her run the hotel that she opens in the Congo.

Of course you have to look the other way when the train goes by the townships, because those people don't have any perspective of what good scenery is, that's for sure. They will make their houses out of a piece of rusted tin or the side of a crate - and leave the writing part on the outside for all to see! But you just have to try to understand, they don't have the same ethics as us. That is one part of living here. Being understanding of the differences.

Adah ends up going to school at Emory and becomes a successful epidemiologist. Leah marries a Congolese named Anatole and has four boys with him. Leah works tirelessly with Anatole to improve the lives of the Congolese and, of the four daughters, she is the most upset about the cultural arrogance of the West.

I wake up in love, and work my skin to darkness under the equatorial sun. I look at my four boys, who are the colors of silt, loam, dust, and clay, an infinite palette for children of their own, and I understand that time erases whiteness all together.

At one point, Leah and Anatole visit Adah in Atlanta. Being in Atlanta now, I had to appreciate this part:

[Anatole] laughs out loud at the nearly naked women on giant billboards, and befriends the bums who inhabit the street corners of Atlanta, asking them detailed questions about where they sleep and how they kill their food. The answers are interesting. You might be surprised to know how many pigeons roosting in the eaves of Atlanta's Public Library have ended up roasting over fires in Grant Park.

Classic - don't you love the alliteration in "roosting" and "roasting"?! The character development of Rachel, Adah, and Leah is wonderful. The only bad thing I can say about this book is that it was waaaay too long. Almost 550 pages! But if you have the time and/or the patience, it's a wonderful work of fiction - one that really makes you think.