The Legacy of Chinua Achebe - Maine Humanities Council
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Things Fall Apart • I’m going to speak a bit about “Things Fall Apart”—indeed, you’ve probably already heard a great deal about “Things Fall Apart” • But I am most interested in how that book has impacted African and American literature and generations of writers. • I’m interested, too, in the tremendous cultural power that Achebe gained as a result of the success of TFA, and how that success in large part determined the future of African fiction.
The Cultural Moment • For the most part, Africa was seen as a destination for literary texts from the West, and not as a continent that produced writers. • Two notable exceptions: Amos Tutuola's Palm-Wine Drinkard (1952) and Cyprian Ekwensi's People of the City (1954) • The « African Novel » was still in its infancy. And very few in the West believed that an « African Novel » would speak to the world.
Achebe as Father of African Literature • After an initial print run of 2000 copies, Things Fall Apart began to sell at a rapid clip • Sold 20,000 copies after it became mandatory reading for the Cambridge School Certificate Examinations for overseas students in the United Kingdom • It sold so well that his publishers at Heinemann became convinced that there was actually a market for African fiction. • Achebe soon became the series editor for the African Writers Series, the incredibly influential series initially published by Heinemann.
Achebe as Father of African Literature • Achebe had achieved something that no African writer had before him—he’d merged the storytelling traditions of his people with the traditions of the West in a manner that was palatable to the West. • In so doing, he created a template for the kind of African fiction that could sell in the West. • He offered a compelling narrative that showed how the Igbo lived before the British arrived. And how the Igbo were irrevocably changed by that encounter.
First Encounter • I read Things Fall Apart for the first time in high school, like many of you here, I’m sure. • Yet the context was different for me. Achebe was a hero in my household. He was evidence of what my father had been telling me my entire life—that Nigerians could produce brilliant, world changing art just like anyone else. • I didn’t know what the story was about, but I knew it existed, and I knew its very existence disproved all the things my friends and some teachers felt about Nigeria.
First Encounter • And then I read it. It had a tremendous impact on me. • For the first time I felt an intimate connection to the country that my parents were from, the country they discussed incessantly, the country where most of my family lived. • I also understood for the first time what my family—and, indeed, Nigeria and the rest of Africa—had lost as a result of its engagement with Europe.
First Encounter • I’d always felt a tremendous sense of loss, but now that loss was contextualized. The pain I’d felt for my entire life—much of it, I now realize, inherited from my parents— now made sense. • I craved more stories but there was nothing. In class we moved on to the typical mix of European and American novels. And when I went to the librarian and asked for more African novels she told me there was nothing else. • For many years in this country and the rest of the West, Chinua Achebe was *the* African Writer.
The Only One • Achebe’s status as an artist had radically shifted after Things Fall Apart became successful. • Though he struggled to find a publisher for his debut, after it was published and received success, for many years it became the definitive example of what an African novel could and should be. • TFA was the only required African novel read in countless high schools and universities here and abroad, and for many students TFA was all they knew and would ever know of African literature.
The Only One • So why was this the case? Why was Achebe’s novel the only novel of his generation to really break through and make an international impact? • My theory is that TFA was so successful because it spoke directly to the dawning postcolonial moment. Many African nations were on the verge of declaring independence from their colonial rulers, and TFA explained what had been lost, and perhaps could be regained. • TFA also spoke directly to the West. It featured Western characters and showed how the West had changed Africa.
The Only One • The success of TFA also demonstrated, in a way, how precarious the enterprise of African fiction—including, of course, African novels— was. • The success of a particular work of fiction had less to do with how authentically it conveyed the stories of a particular individual or group of people, and more to do with how much that story was valued in the West. • In addition, Western tastemakers and kingmakers have consistently demonstrated that there isn’t much space for non-Western stories and art in the West.
The Only One • What this means, generally, is that while Western audiences might have room in their minds and on their bookshelves for varied narratives by Westerners—in particular white men—they have less space for everything else. • So Achebe’s success not only determined the rules for success for any future would-be African novelist, it also foreclosed the possibility that any other novelist would achieve the same level of success • In other words, Achebe became “the one.”
The Only One • Achebe’s status mirrored the fates of a few other artists who were working at the same time and afterward. • In those artistic fields with strong barriers, fields in which a small group of mostly white tastemakers determine who will be granted an opportunity to succeed—film, literature, and visual art, among many, many others—a small collection of black artists receive the bulk of the attention and praise. • This applies to other artists of color as well.
The Only One • So Achebe became shorthand for African fiction. • This was despite Achebe’s efforts. As I mentioned before, he edited the venerable African Writer’s Series until 1972. • The AWS was responsible for introducing many previously unknown African writers to the world, including Ngugi Wa Thiongo, Bessie Head, Doris Lessing and so many others.
The Only One • Yet most of these writers—with a few notable exceptions, among them Nadine Gordimer and Doris Lessing, both white writers who went on to win Nobel Prizes—weren’t as well known as Achebe. • By focusing so vigilantly on one writer, critics and readers in the West don’t have to engage with the full range of humanity of people in the rest of the world.
The Only One • I didn’t know much about the African Writes Series until I was a graduate student at Oxford, studying African Studies, and I made it a mission to read as many AWS books as I could. • At Oxford I read books by Alex La Guma, Bessie Head, Ousmane Sembene and many others. • I began to truly understand the diversity of African life—the wide diversity of experiences and perspectives that stretched across the African continent.
The Only One • I also began to understand how impoverished the general perception of African fiction was. • Here was a multitude of narratives, beautifully rendered and edited, and yet the general idea of what African fiction was and could be was Things Fall Apart. • Because I was spending so much time reading literature at Oxford, across so many traditions—English, Indian, South American, etc.—I began to think about literary canons.
The Only One • Generally a literary canon is formed over time. • When a book is released a host of critics and might debate how artful it is, whether and how it addresses larger concerns in a particular society, whether it stands as a shining example of the best kind of literature that the society can produce. • Then in subsequent generations critics and academics will debate how well that work addressed contemporaneous ideas, whether the work holds up, etc.
The Only One • The one work of literary art from Africa that has received that kind of sustained attention over the years is Things Fall Apart. • The African Writers Series, as wonderful and important as it is, also reveals the problems that accompany trying to invent a literary tradition from abroad. • The African Writers Series wasn’t the only outfit publishing African literature, but it was the most prominent, and it reflected the biases of a small brain trust of gatekeepers who were based in or had connections to London.
A Period of Stagnancy • Over time the influence of the African Writers Series waned and, frankly, the publishing world—meaning houses in Europe and America—lost interested in African fiction. • The late-eighties through the nineties were an especially barren time for African literature. • There were novels that were published during this moment (among them great novels like Nervous Conditions) but for the most part the literary world had moved on.
A New Hope • A few things changed in the early 2000s. • Among them, the appearance of the Caine Prize for African Writing in 2000. • The prize annually issues a call to writers in Africa and in the diaspora to submit short stories for a 10,000 pound prize.
A New Hope • Still imperfect in certain ways—prize is based in London, external gatekeepers still exert influence over the process— but it heralded the beginning of a new era. • A few short years after the launch of the prize, a bumper crop of debut novels by African writers debuted to much fanfare. • Including Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Adichie (2003), Beasts of No Nation (2005) by Uzodinma Iweala, and The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears (2007) by Dinaw Mengestu.
A New Hope • As it happens, I was in college when this new engagement with African literature began. • I read Purple Hibiscus as a senior in college and was so excited about it that I sent a few copies to friends and family. • I read Beasts of No Nation in graduate school and The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears after grad school, when I began working in London. • This, for me, was a terribly exciting time.
Personal Engagement • In graduate school I was part of a small community of Black students who were all intensely interested in the arts. • We wrote and acted in plays, we wrote stories, exchanged and critiqued them, and we read every bit of black literature we could find. • Many of us had direct ties to Africa, so we were intensely interested in the new literature that was emerging from the continent.
Personal Engagement • We noticed certain trends and discussed why these books might have been successful. • For example, Purple Hibiscus owed an obvious debt to Achebe’s work, Beasts of No Nation seemed especially timely because the international press was reporting many stories about child soldiers and The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears covered the same territory as a few recently successful immigrant novels.
Personal Engagement • Yet the very existence of these novels seemed to indicate that there was an emerging space for the kinds of narratives we were interested in writing. • Inspired by these novels, I began to write fiction in grad school. • I wrote a long novel during my final year of graduate school, then abandoned that and began to write another novel as I worked at my first job post grad school.
Personal Engagement • I thought a lot about Achebe as I tried and failed and tried again to write a novel. • I thought of his courageousness, and how he wrote a novel that responded to his time but also—because it such a compelling piece of art—defined his time as well. • I also thought about how I wanted my work to differ from Achebe’s. I wanted to write an intensely personal story that shows how an individual who grew up in the diaspora related—and could not relate to—Africa.
Personal Engagement • I published my first short story while I was still working on my novel, and this story won the Caine Prize for African Writing. • I subsequently had an opportunity to travel all over Africa, Europe and America on a kind of extended tour. • I met many African writers in places like Nigeria, South Africa and Germany. • We spoke about the kind of writing we wanted to publish, our influences, and, of course, Achebe.
Personal Engagement • Perhaps the most significant experience I had during this time was my inclusion in a list of the most promising African writers under 40. • The Hay Festival invited all 40 of us to Nigeria for a weeklong festival. • Many other writers and aspiring writers were there as well.
Personal Engagement • We spent hours talking about literature, reading each other’s work, gossiping, trading compliments and insults. • It became apparent to me, then, that we are living in the midst of an African renaissance of literature. • So many African and Diasporic writers are creating compelling work. • African publishing houses like Cassava Press are publishing incredible books.
Personal Engagement • There are still profound constraints—again, the major publishing houses abroad determine what books will get published and receive critical attention • But the walls are breaking down. • I traveled to Nigeria every year after I won the Caine Prize and spent time with writers, critics, and visual artists. • I also spent time with artists of every stripe here in America, and in Europe. • My debut novel, A Particular Kind of Black Man, was published in 2019.
Achebe’s Legacy • I would not be here speaking with you if it weren’t for Chinua Achebe. • His example is so incredibly important because he created a work of art that moved people and convinced many of our humanity. • He also inspired successive generations of artists to create art that critiqued and offered commentary on their societies—artists who have also inspired me.
Personal Engagement • Finally, the grand irony of his legacy is that his most well-known book is called Things Fall Apart, but his life and his literary work taught many of us how to forge new connections, and to fashion thriving communities.
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