River Spirit by Leila Abouela: A review

Set in nineteenth-century Sudan, this novel tells the story of the years that led up to the British conquest of that region in 1898. It explores the tensions that existed between not only Britain and Sudan but also between Christianity and Islam. We experience all of that through the eyes of a girl called Akuany.

Akuany and her brother Bol were orphaned by a raid on their village in South Sudan. Subsequently, a young merchant named Yaseen took them in and promised to care for them until they reached adulthood, but this proved difficult as events in the Ottoman Empire became more and more unsettled. Akuany at first lived with Yaseen's sister but was later enslaved.

A revolutionary leader who proclaimed himself the Mahdi (the prophesied redeemer of Islam) came to power in the region and the people had to choose sides between this "Mahdi" and those who opposed him. Yaseen's choice was to oppose him, even as this choice seemed to tear his family apart.

Akuany, now an adult, is sold and traded from house to house across the countryside, while always maintaining a link to Yaseen. Their relationship evolves over the years and even though the revolution separates them on occasions, they are drawn to each other and manage to remain a part of each other's lives.

The tale is told from various points of view - I must admit that I can't tell you exactly how many - but I found it to be an effective way to present the multiple sides of the story and the impact that it had on different segments of Sudanese society. It truly enriched my reading experience and, I think, gave me a fuller understanding of that period of history and of the sacrifices required of the people, especially the women, caught in that situation. All in all, I felt at least somewhat enlightened about a people and a period of history of which I had been fairly ignorant. What more could one ask of historical fiction?

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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