No Longer at Ease, Chinua Achebe

Black Africa Project 2024

Chinua Achebe (1930-2013) was an Igbo man from Nigeria. It seems that prior to decolonization, identity was tribal rather than ‘national’; but after independence from Britain in 1960, Igbo people united to form their own breakaway nation, Biafra, leading to the Nigerian Civil War (1967-1970), the eventual starving of the Biafrans into submission, and the deaths of millions.

I remember this playing out in the newspapers and on tv as I came to adulthood, as we are seeing again now. It would seem that genocide works quite well as a strategy in war, which doesn’t bode well for the Palestinians.

Achebe, already a renowned novelist, was in Biafra during the war, with his family, working with the administration, his writing restricted to poetry and short stories. After the war he became disillusioned with the Nigerian government and eventually, when he was able to leave, accepted a professorship in the US.

Achebe’s first three novels were a trilogy:
Things Fall Apart (1958)
No Longer at Ease (1960)
Arrow of God (1964)

Things Fall Apart and Arrow of God cover life in the earlier days of colonization, while No Longer at Ease is largely contemporaneous with Achebe’s own life.

Heinemann, having published Things Fall Apart, could see that it was too expensive for Nigerians, and so established the African Writers Series to produce cheap paperbacks by African writers, for sale to Africans. Achebe was made consulting editor.

As a young man, I read very little African literature, Cry the Beloved Country at school; then Black Mischief and Mr Johnson, because I read ‘all’ those authors’ books (Waugh and Cary); and later Conrad, Lessing, Coetzee, and finally Ben Okri’s Famished Road. I was so struck by the contrast between Waugh and Cary on one side and Okri on the other, that it still forms a big part of my motivation in undertaking this year’s project, reading Black Africa.

Not so strangely, I suppose, I read while researching this part of my review that Achebe was motivated to write by Conrad’s racism in Heart of Darkness, and by Cary’s depiction of Nigerians as “either savages or buffoons”.

Having ‘read’ No Longer at Ease as an audiobook early in December, I have taken advantage of the intervening time to re-read Black Mischief and Mr Johnson.

Evelyn Waugh, Black Mischief (1932)

This was Waugh’s third or fourth novel, written after a trip to Abyssinia (Ethiopia) to cover the coronation of Emperor Haile Selassie. The setting is a large fictional island, Azania, off the coast of Somalia, which has a mixed African and Arab population, and is independent with an African emperor. The protagonists are Seth, who has just become Emperor, and a shiftless young upper middle class Englishman, Basil Seal, Seth’s classmate from Oxford, who is appointed the Emperor’s adviser.

Waugh makes fun of everyone, not least the lazy and stupid English consul and his family, and the devious (of course) French legation; but his portrayal of the locals – the (Irish) head of the army’s wife, “The Black Bitch”, the Armenian hotel keeper, the local tribal chiefs promoted to dukedoms and so on and so on, is unrelentingly racist.

Forget the plot, it’s just a variation on the theme of locals will fail if there are no Brits there to prop them up, which brings us to …

Joyce Cary, Mister Johnson (1939)

Cary, unlike Waugh, was familiar with Africa, having been with the Colonial civil service in Nigeria for a number of years before and following WWI. During the War he served with a Nigerian regiment. You could say Cary was quite an acute observer both of African life and of the civil service, but he is so certain of British superiority that locals are quite often characterised as monkeys or apes; locals in communities remote from town are ‘pagans’; and Mister Johnson, whose story this mostly is, is invariably portrayed as childish – telling stories (lies), unable to have money in his pocket, or even in prospect, without buying drink for the whole town, and servile to the current District Officer, most often Ruddeck (who seems to stand for Cary with his road building and marital problems).

At this distance, 90 odd years, we can see that the principal purpose of colonies was for Britain to steal other people’s wealth; but civil servants seemed to think they were doing locals a favour by running things for them. Cary probably saw himself as a generous, hard working man with no idea of the racism inherent in his unreflective feelings of superiority.

Chinua Achebe, No Longer at Ease (1960)

No Longer at Ease is set mostly in Lagos in the 1950s, that is, in the years before Independence, and begins with the protagonist, Igbo man Obi Okonkwo, on trial for … I’m not sure if Achebe says right away, though the ‘summaries’ do, but the novel is the story of how Obi got to that point.

Although I won’t give away the final part of the book, if you are intending to read it yourself, and wish to learn developments only as the author reveals them, this is probably a good place to stop (but you can read the last para.).

Obi has received a scholarship/loan from the older men of his people who have moved into the cities and done well, the Umuofia Progressive Union, to study in England in order to return and work in Nigeria. In England he switches from Law to English; meets a young Nigerian woman, Clara; gets his degree; returns home; Clara is on the same boat; he moves in with his mate, Joseph in Lagos; gets a job in the civil service approving high school students for university scholarships; starts a relationship with Clara; they move in together.

There are interesting parallels with Mister Johnson, especially given that was the book Achebe most wanted to refute, in that Obi begins to consistently overspend his pay, to play the big man back home, undertaking to support siblings through school. And although he initially refuses the opportunity to take bribes, in the end he must.

Obi has two problems with Clara: she is osu – which is to say an Igbo of a caste he is forbidden to marry into; and she gets pregnant, with a baby they can’t keep.

This is an excellent novel on so many levels – the writing, and I’m sorry I don’t have a text copy from which I might take an extract; as a novel, the first novel by an African, of this place and time; for the Obi-Clara relationship, which is engrossing from beginning to end; and for Obi’s coming of age, which ends where we started, in court.

.

Chinua Achebe, No Longer at Ease, Heinemann, London,1960. Clipper Audio narrated by Peter Jay Fernandez. 5.5 hours

see also, reviews by Jennifer/Tasmanian Bibliophile@Large –
Things Fall Apart (1958)
No Longer at Ease (1960)
Arrow of God (1964)

17 thoughts on “No Longer at Ease, Chinua Achebe

  1. OK I stopped … because I would like to read it, though if/when I will I don’t know.

    This – “Cary probably saw himself as a generous, hard working man with no idea of the racism inherent in his unreflective feelings of superiority”. I’m constantly amazed at how often we accept(ed) things of our time without thought. What are we accepting now? Or, have we finally become so cynical that we’ve gone the other way and trust or accept nothing.

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    • Let’s say 20 years ago we thought that if we acted well towards Aboriginal people, then they would become ordinary middle class Australians like us.

      In the last five years it has become obvious that however well we think/behave we are still colonists and Aboriginal people are still colonized. So that previous view, which is still widely held, is the new unreflective feelings of the time.

      I guess the thing is to not be “unreflective”.

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  2. I enjoyed reading your summary of this novel and I think it must be the volume of the trilogy that I remember the least (strange, as it would have been the most recently read too). Thanks for the care taken with spoilers, BTW, I noticed! heheh Okri’s novel was the book which smacked me up the side of the head and urged me to pay attention to African writing, to begin to understand that the storytelling principles are different and unique (besides the culture understanding required). It’s a long process though, because as you’ve said, we’ve read so many British and English stories, so it’s hard to develop another understanding of literature alongside…a lot of reading! You’ve also reminded me that I want to properly read Wilkerson’s Caste this year (I read a library copy too hastily when it was new, but didn’t even have time to make notes).

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    • Ok, I’ve found “Wilkerson’s Caste” on wiki. I was thinking of ‘osu’ as ‘untouchable’ but I couldn’t think how to express it in a few words. We like to think of caste as being peculiarly Indian, but of course there are elements of it everywhere – in race in the US as Wilkerson says; and in class, most noticeably in Britain, but also everywhere. (I’m not going to read an NF with you, but I will appreciate your review).

      ‘Summary’: I struggle with reviewing – that sentence was meant to go on .. with reviewing audiobooks. I’m always pleased with myself when I remember a summary, because quite often I don’t. Getting the summary down on paper brings the book back alive for me and makes it possible for me to say other stuff. The problem of course is that, even leaving aside the ending, it takes away some of the element of surprise for prospective readers.

      Famished Road smacked me up the side of the head, but then I didn’t go any further. I’m not sure why. For 20 years after, the closest I got to going back that way was probably Rushdie.

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      • I literally missed “summary” in school (moving between systems that had different approaches to language and comprehension studies) and now I tend to get caught up in voice or a mechanical aspect of the writing and that pulls me away from the story sometimes. When it comes to newspaper reviews, I’m irritated by summaries, but I enjoy them with reading friends, hearing about the book in your words, not a publisher’s words, not a publicist’s words, but your take. When I first read The Famished Road, I got stuck (repeatedly, after Chapter Two, so often that I can recall this detail!). It took me more than ten years to try it again, for the reality of why I struggled with it to really land. And it took some more time for me to locate other African writers. In my initial comment, it might have sounded like the smack immediately led to action, but I was stunned for a good loooong while. heh

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      • The Famished Road is right beside me. Ch 3 reads like a dream or hallucination. I can see it being offputting.

        You’re a professional reviewer and you have a good handle on your craft. Me, I just cast around for something to say. Summary, the plot is my fallback position, though I suppose you need to say something about what is happening in order to discuss it.

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  3. It has been ages since I read Things Fall Apart, so I maybe way off base here, but I remember when I finished the book, I was so angry. The guy we’re supposed to be rooting for was a sexist domineering man. Now, if that sounds wrong, and I may be thinking of a different book, but I don’t think so, let me know. Thus, I never read any more of this author because even though he is African, and I wanted to read more African literature, that doesn’t mean I want to read sexist literature, either. That’s not to say that it doesn’t have intellectual value, I just couldn’t stomach it at the time.

    Side note, I went to high school with some Okonkwos. I wonder if that is a common Nigerian name.

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    • Our African migrants tend to come from East Africa so I can’t say about Nigerian names (but then I’m not sure I know any E African names either).

      I’m guessing, because I haven’t read it, that Achebe tells his grandfather’s story in a way that reflects Nigerian/Igbo culture at that time. I’m starting this project with two guys, and perhaps the two most prominent guys, but after that I seem to have plenty of women to choose from.

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  4. I read Things Fall Apart as a teenager because I worked in the town library and started, but soon gave up, reading all of fiction in alphabetical order. Oddly enough I don’t remember anything about it now! For a long time I’m ashamed to say I didn’t read books set in sub-Saharan Africa because I was sure they were all filled with war and conflict and horror and I woudln’t be able to face them (because I have complex PTSD I do have to avoid very horrific stuff or I’ll be jangling for hours). But I have learned the error of my ways and read some brilliant books over the past few years. I have a modern Nigerian novel to read this month from NetGalley so will report on that in due course.

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    • I avoid war books, a) because I hate the glorification of war (and how many books about the horror of war are just death and injury pornography?); and b) because ‘action’ books are boring and generally without literary merit.

      But African books, like books from everywhere else, as you have found, are mostly about people; and the differences in writing/story telling styles are fascinating.

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      • I think while there has been a steady stream of good publishing coming from Africa and being shown to us here in the UK, (Emecheta, etc.) there was a big theme for a while with Purple Hibiscus etc of really pushing books that were literary but steeped in war and horror, which I couldn’t face. But it’s broadening out now and also I have womanned up a bit, as I can hardly say some of the stuff I’ve read recently has been easy-going!

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      • I imagine that there are many parts of Africa which can’t be written about without including war. So, A Girl is a Body of Water for instance is intruded on by the war between Zimbabwe and Tanzania. A lot of the commentary for The Famished Road mentioned the Biafran war but I didn’t see it myself in the writing (and my belief is that TFR is set a decade earlier).

        By all means ‘woman up’, but All Quiet on the Western Front or Bao Ninh’s The Sorrow of War are the only sort of war books I am interested in reading.

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      • Yes, that’s what I meant, the existence of war scenes in literary fiction, not books that are “war books” as such, but I didn’t explain that properly. Anyway I’ve managed The Five Sorrowful Stations of Andy Africa and that was pretty horrific, so I’m doing OK.

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