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The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born
A railway freight clerk in Ghana attempts to hold out against the pressures that impel him toward corruption in both his family and his country. The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born is the novel that catapulted Ayi Kwei Armah into the limelight. The novel is generally a satirical attack on the Ghanaian society during Kwame Nkrumah’s regime and the period immediately after independence in the 1960s. It is often claimed to rank with Things Fall Apart as one of the high points of post-colonial African Literature.
183 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1968
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14870 people want to read
About the author
Ayi Kwei Armah
18 books298 followersBorn to Fante-speaking parents, with his father's side Armah descending from a royal family in the Ga tribe in the port city of Sekondi-Takoradi, Ghana, [1] Armah, having attended the renowned Achimota School, left Ghana in 1959 to attend Groton School in Groton, MA. After graduating, he entered Harvard University, receiving a degree in sociology. Armah then moved to Algeria and worked as a translator for the magazine Révolution Africaine. In 1964, Armah returned to Ghana, where he was a scriptwriter for Ghana Television and later taught English at the Navrongo School.
Between 1967 and 1968, he was editor of Jeune Afrique magazine in Paris. From 1968-1970, Armah studied at Columbia University, obtaining his MFA in creative writing. In the 1970s, he worked as a teacher in East Africa, at the College of National Education, Chang'ombe, Tanzania, and at the National University of Lesotho. He lived in Dakar, Senegal, in the 1980s and taught at Amherst and the University of Wisconsin–Madison.
Between 1967 and 1968, he was editor of Jeune Afrique magazine in Paris. From 1968-1970, Armah studied at Columbia University, obtaining his MFA in creative writing. In the 1970s, he worked as a teacher in East Africa, at the College of National Education, Chang'ombe, Tanzania, and at the National University of Lesotho. He lived in Dakar, Senegal, in the 1980s and taught at Amherst and the University of Wisconsin–Madison.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 305 reviews
January 15, 2014
This shit-encrusted tale of corruption and despair belongs to a tradition of post-colonial African literature that is unflinchingly critical of national politics. Hope was abating, disillusionment with Independence was beginning to take hold, and people were resigning themselves to the sad realities of poverty and inequality. In Ghana, the period in question is the 1960s.
Ayi Kwei Armah has a particular fondness for scatological images that meshes well with his chosen message. I have no doubt that years from now, my enduring memories of this novel will be of the nauseating stench of garbage, the wet slime of fresh vomit, the numerous images of human excrement caked onto latrines and railings and faces. Witness the following description of a Party man, corrupt by definition:
Ayi Kwei Armah has a particular fondness for scatological images that meshes well with his chosen message. I have no doubt that years from now, my enduring memories of this novel will be of the nauseating stench of garbage, the wet slime of fresh vomit, the numerous images of human excrement caked onto latrines and railings and faces. Witness the following description of a Party man, corrupt by definition:
"His mouth had the rich stench of rotten menstrual blood. [...] Koomson's insides gave a growl longer than usual, an inner fart of personal, corrupt thunder which in its fullness sounded as if it had rolled down all the way from the eating throat thundering through the belly and the guts, to end in further silent pollution of the air already sick with flatulent fear."Or how about this half-hearted attempt to absolve those impelled toward corruption:
"Sometimes it is understandable that people spit so much, when all around decaying things push inward and mix all the body's juices with the taste of rot. Sometimes it is understandable, the doomed attempt to purify the self by adding to the disease outside."The novel breaks out of the plot and swings into essay mode when discoursing on the topic of politics. The effect isn't as jarring as it sounds, since politics seem to pervade every aspect of daily life, from the pressures of family members to take the only known route out of poverty, to speeches given by rising Ghanaian idealists who grow into fat politicians speaking in ridiculous fake-British accents. The main character is a nameless railway clerk, referred to as "the man" throughout, standing in for every poor labourer not eating out of the government's coffers. Time stretches. The monotony of a single day is drawn onward indefinitely into the bleak and unchanging future. Coups mean nothing when each regime is as heartless as the last, an unbroken string of greedy eyes thinking through their stomachs. Is there any remedy for the disease that afflicts the nation, any hope for the next generation of Ghanaians? Perhaps, but the road will be a long and torturous one, for The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born.
March 14, 2012
I don't even know if I should/can rate this book. Up until the last 50 or so pages, it took a lot of effort to slog through.
Ayi Kwei Armah set out to take a stand, make a political statement, and it is evident in every part of the book. A lot of similes, a lot of hyperbole, painful description, and LOTS of pontification. It is annoying, and it makes the book painful to read, but it also gets his point across very well.
He wrote this book in 1968, 11 years after Ghana's independence, when the joy of freedom had given way to hopelessness and corruption was running amok. Our main character is a struggling civil servant, earning wages too low to allow for any kind of a good quality of life. But he refuses to join in the corruption-free-for-all.
It seems everyone hates him for that. The people who offer him bribes are offended when he refuses to take it, telling him he thinks he's better than everyone else. He's not willing to falsify documents to get some money, so his wife resents him, because if he'd only just stop acting like he was better than everyone else, they'd actually have enough money to not live hand-to-mouth.
What kept me reading was how well Ayi Kwei Armah manged to capture the situation in Ghana: corruption, greed, and theft among the leaders, and a sense of utter hopelessness among the struggling masses. It hasn't changed. Over 70% of Ghanaians still live on less than $2 a day. Corruption has become ingrained into the very fabric of society. In Ghana trying to do the right thing is so hard that it's so much easier to do the wrong thing - just take the bribe; or just offer the bribe because going through the correct procedures won't get you anywhere. And when a person tries to do the right thing, people really do look at you as if you think you're better than everyone else. Doing the right thing gets you nowhere whereas doing as everyone is will get you everywhere.
"Corruption is the national game;" "many had tried the rotten ways and found them filled with the sweetness of life," he writes, and he is right.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. A few passages stood out to me because even though this book was written in 1968, many of the same things happen 40-odd years later.
There's a scene where he waxes on about how after people fought for independence, they still tried to "act white," if you will. They pretended only foods and goods from Europe were worth having; they disdained anything 'local'; they took on English names or Anglicized their names, or changed them entirely, just so long as it was something European and not local. 40 years later it's still true. When I was growing up, I ALWAYS got offended stares when people asked my name and I told them. They'd say, "No, not your 'house' name; I want your real name, your English name." And then get even more puzzled stares when I told them I didn't have an English name, just my 'local' name. It's only in the last decade or so that the tide has slooooowly began to turn, that people have started not giving English names to their children, that it has become fashionable to have a Ghanaian name that is your only name. 40 years, and not much has changed.
I almost fell out of my seat when I read this passage in the book. Here, the man is talking to his wife, who has bought out the hot comb and is straightening her hair:
O_O. This is major. Ayi Kwei Armah was espousing natural hair in 1968? Again, 40-odd years later, things are only just NOW beginning to change. It is slightly more acceptable to walk around with natural hair in Gh today than it was five years ago. And even so, you have to be uber careful because it is looked upon as 'bush' in most places.
One last thing. It was nice to read a book with people just like me in it; with peculiar turns of phrases I know about; with names I recognize as part of my culture: Adoley, Oyo, Ayivi, Maanan. I very rarely come across fiction that reflects back something familiar to me I forget the power of recognizing oneself/one's cultural identity in literature. Not very many African authors write anything that is not political/literary fiction you see. Very few write romance of any kind and very few write fantasy of any kind. So I don't see myself much in the books I read. It was really refreshing to have that change this time around, even though the subject matter wasn't very palatable.
All in all, I can truly see why this book is considered a classic and essential African literature. You an literally feel the weight of its literary merit as you read it. It is a very important work that deals with very important very salient themes of African corruption, African identity, personal integrity, disillusionment, hopelessness, accountability, and African leaderships. He wrote it in 1968, and almost everything he wrote about, almost everything he supported/opposed you can see in the fabric of Ghanaian/African society today. It was an important work then, and it is just as important, just as valid a work now.
It left me with a lot of food for thought and a new respect for Ayi Kwei Armah. But damn if reading this book isn't like reading One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich: A Novel: you know it is an important work dealing with important themes, but it is sheer torture to get through.
With ALL my heart I recommend this one, especially for Ghanaians, especially for Africans, but be prepared to take at the very least 6 weeks to read a mere 192 pages; be prepared to be tortured by sheer boredom for a good part of it; be prepared to read pages and pages of soliloquy whose only goal is to pontificate. Be prepared to not be able to read more than two or three pages every few days. Ugh, this book is painful to get through. But it is soooooooooooooooo worth it!
Ayi Kwei Armah set out to take a stand, make a political statement, and it is evident in every part of the book. A lot of similes, a lot of hyperbole, painful description, and LOTS of pontification. It is annoying, and it makes the book painful to read, but it also gets his point across very well.
He wrote this book in 1968, 11 years after Ghana's independence, when the joy of freedom had given way to hopelessness and corruption was running amok. Our main character is a struggling civil servant, earning wages too low to allow for any kind of a good quality of life. But he refuses to join in the corruption-free-for-all.
It seems everyone hates him for that. The people who offer him bribes are offended when he refuses to take it, telling him he thinks he's better than everyone else. He's not willing to falsify documents to get some money, so his wife resents him, because if he'd only just stop acting like he was better than everyone else, they'd actually have enough money to not live hand-to-mouth.
"You have not done what everybody else is doing," said the naked man, "and in this world, that is one of the crimes."
What kept me reading was how well Ayi Kwei Armah manged to capture the situation in Ghana: corruption, greed, and theft among the leaders, and a sense of utter hopelessness among the struggling masses. It hasn't changed. Over 70% of Ghanaians still live on less than $2 a day. Corruption has become ingrained into the very fabric of society. In Ghana trying to do the right thing is so hard that it's so much easier to do the wrong thing - just take the bribe; or just offer the bribe because going through the correct procedures won't get you anywhere. And when a person tries to do the right thing, people really do look at you as if you think you're better than everyone else. Doing the right thing gets you nowhere whereas doing as everyone is will get you everywhere.
"Corruption is the national game;" "many had tried the rotten ways and found them filled with the sweetness of life," he writes, and he is right.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. A few passages stood out to me because even though this book was written in 1968, many of the same things happen 40-odd years later.
There's a scene where he waxes on about how after people fought for independence, they still tried to "act white," if you will. They pretended only foods and goods from Europe were worth having; they disdained anything 'local'; they took on English names or Anglicized their names, or changed them entirely, just so long as it was something European and not local. 40 years later it's still true. When I was growing up, I ALWAYS got offended stares when people asked my name and I told them. They'd say, "No, not your 'house' name; I want your real name, your English name." And then get even more puzzled stares when I told them I didn't have an English name, just my 'local' name. It's only in the last decade or so that the tide has slooooowly began to turn, that people have started not giving English names to their children, that it has become fashionable to have a Ghanaian name that is your only name. 40 years, and not much has changed.
I almost fell out of my seat when I read this passage in the book. Here, the man is talking to his wife, who has bought out the hot comb and is straightening her hair:
"That must be very painful."
"Of course it is painful. I' just trying to straighten it out a bit now, to make it presentable."
"What is wrong with it natural?"
"Only bush women wear their hair natural" [being call 'bush' in Gh is NOT a compliment]
"I wish you were a bush woman then"
O_O. This is major. Ayi Kwei Armah was espousing natural hair in 1968? Again, 40-odd years later, things are only just NOW beginning to change. It is slightly more acceptable to walk around with natural hair in Gh today than it was five years ago. And even so, you have to be uber careful because it is looked upon as 'bush' in most places.
One last thing. It was nice to read a book with people just like me in it; with peculiar turns of phrases I know about; with names I recognize as part of my culture: Adoley, Oyo, Ayivi, Maanan. I very rarely come across fiction that reflects back something familiar to me I forget the power of recognizing oneself/one's cultural identity in literature. Not very many African authors write anything that is not political/literary fiction you see. Very few write romance of any kind and very few write fantasy of any kind. So I don't see myself much in the books I read. It was really refreshing to have that change this time around, even though the subject matter wasn't very palatable.
All in all, I can truly see why this book is considered a classic and essential African literature. You an literally feel the weight of its literary merit as you read it. It is a very important work that deals with very important very salient themes of African corruption, African identity, personal integrity, disillusionment, hopelessness, accountability, and African leaderships. He wrote it in 1968, and almost everything he wrote about, almost everything he supported/opposed you can see in the fabric of Ghanaian/African society today. It was an important work then, and it is just as important, just as valid a work now.
It left me with a lot of food for thought and a new respect for Ayi Kwei Armah. But damn if reading this book isn't like reading One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich: A Novel: you know it is an important work dealing with important themes, but it is sheer torture to get through.
With ALL my heart I recommend this one, especially for Ghanaians, especially for Africans, but be prepared to take at the very least 6 weeks to read a mere 192 pages; be prepared to be tortured by sheer boredom for a good part of it; be prepared to read pages and pages of soliloquy whose only goal is to pontificate. Be prepared to not be able to read more than two or three pages every few days. Ugh, this book is painful to get through. But it is soooooooooooooooo worth it!
June 1, 2014
Ask me about a writer who is unflinching in his emasculation of an African postcolonial way of life stunted by its mire in corruption and deceit, and I'll point to Ayi Armah.
In jarring words, this intrepid narrator speaks of poverty and despair within a small African village. I've never come across a novel where despair is embodied through such disparaging scenes. Hopelessness is incarnate in our narrator: the man. Yes, the man has no name, but he has a story. A story of immense loneliness and desperation, for he is the only one who desires a simple life of earned income. Everyone around him wants to smuggle goods and bribe for treasures.
A world where the rich wants to get richer and the poor--well the poor want a life beyond outdoor latrines, long, non-airconditioned bus rides, and one-room houses:
To be the odd one out--what a state to find one's self.
This is Armah's first novel which has been added to Heinemann's African Writers Series, and I'm so glad that I've had a chance to come across it. The novel is seriocomic, a satirical attempt at showcasing the irony of Nkrumah's leadership (and if you're familiar with Ghana during the Nkrumah years, you see why this is ironic indeed). It is an attempt to broadcast the voice of Ghana that was usually unheard: that of the poor--in most cases uneducated--village worker.
This novel is about the dung of life and so it is not surprising that no words are minced:
You may be tempted to stray because this character-driven narrative has a couple of perspective switches and some brief philosophical meanderings that will at first seem daunting. Stick with 'the man' however, and you should be fine, for he (as well as his book-addict "teacher") will tell you the blatant truth:
Why do we waste so much time with sorrow and pity for ourselves?…not so long ago we were helpless messes of soft flesh and unformed bone squeezing through bursting motherholes, trailing dung and exhausted blood. We could not ask then why it is was necessary for us also to grow. So why now should we be shaking our head and wondering bitterly why there are children together with the old, why time does not stop when we ourselves have come to stations where we would like to rest? It is so like a child, to wish all movement to cease.
In jarring words, this intrepid narrator speaks of poverty and despair within a small African village. I've never come across a novel where despair is embodied through such disparaging scenes. Hopelessness is incarnate in our narrator: the man. Yes, the man has no name, but he has a story. A story of immense loneliness and desperation, for he is the only one who desires a simple life of earned income. Everyone around him wants to smuggle goods and bribe for treasures.
A world where the rich wants to get richer and the poor--well the poor want a life beyond outdoor latrines, long, non-airconditioned bus rides, and one-room houses:
Everyone said there was something miserable, something unspeakably dishonest about a man who refused to take and to give what everyone around was busy taking and giving: something unnatural, something very cruel, something that was criminal, for who but a criminal could ever be left with such a feeling of loneliness?
To be the odd one out--what a state to find one's self.
This is Armah's first novel which has been added to Heinemann's African Writers Series, and I'm so glad that I've had a chance to come across it. The novel is seriocomic, a satirical attempt at showcasing the irony of Nkrumah's leadership (and if you're familiar with Ghana during the Nkrumah years, you see why this is ironic indeed). It is an attempt to broadcast the voice of Ghana that was usually unheard: that of the poor--in most cases uneducated--village worker.
This novel is about the dung of life and so it is not surprising that no words are minced:
Left-hand fingers in their careless journey from a hasty anus sliding all the way up the banister as their owners made the return trip from the lavatory downstairs to the offices above.
You may be tempted to stray because this character-driven narrative has a couple of perspective switches and some brief philosophical meanderings that will at first seem daunting. Stick with 'the man' however, and you should be fine, for he (as well as his book-addict "teacher") will tell you the blatant truth:
If you come near people here they will ask you, what about you? Where is your house? Where have you left your car? What do you bring in your hands for the loved ones? Nothing? Then let us keep quiet and not get close to people. People will make you very sad that you do not have a house to make onlookers stumble with looking, or a car to make every walker know that a big man and his concubine have just passed. Let us keep quiet and watch.
August 13, 2014
This book changed my perception of Africa as much as Things Fall Apart did. I was startled to realise, through these books, that I had never imagined every day life for people in Ghana, had only thought of Africa through negative news reports and famine relief appeals, and had never considered the possibility that Africans might live in cities, go to work in smart clothes and drive cars. Such is the power of ethnocentric socialisation.
Armah's novel twisted my stomach in empathy with its protagonist. Vivid descriptions and harshly poetic reflections made it an excellent read.
Armah's novel twisted my stomach in empathy with its protagonist. Vivid descriptions and harshly poetic reflections made it an excellent read.
March 20, 2014
A masterpiece. Truly an extraordinary work full of shit and sadness and sentences of great beauty. Proper review to come soon, but y'all need to get your greedy mitts on this ere book ASAP.
October 14, 2007
So this book is by an American trained Marxist and it about the new Ghana with Nkrumah as president. It traces the sad move from idealistic and hopeful begins of a new state, to a corrupt and selfish mess. It is a book that I as a Westerner identified with, but my African students found it harsh and unrealistic. It has a heavy existensialist bent, one character, nameless, the man, refuses to participate in the corruption, and he is hated by everyone. Yet he goes on, trying to avoid the dirt, described vividly, on every surface, the floor, the bus, the wall, the banister.
I think that anyone who has gone somewhere radically different from home and learned something there has this kind of reaction on returning home. There is something wrong there, that you see at every turn, and it disgusts you, and you feel totally separate, in this ball of distance, where you look the same and people talk to you the same but you are worried about touching anything because you can see the dirt.
I think that anyone who has gone somewhere radically different from home and learned something there has this kind of reaction on returning home. There is something wrong there, that you see at every turn, and it disgusts you, and you feel totally separate, in this ball of distance, where you look the same and people talk to you the same but you are worried about touching anything because you can see the dirt.
May 24, 2019
The story of Africa told through a man who refused to bend his values to fit into the system... It is always interesting to see how African countries are similar when it comes to politics. The era that this book talks about was the most challenging in African politics, and the writer managed to pen it down so well. The story pulls you in gently while reminding you of the path we have travelled, and are still travelling, as Africans in politics. I really enjoyed it.
July 2, 2025
{pre-read} I have been humming that Fela Kuti song ever since I listened to it.
He be say you be colonial man
You don be slave man before
Them don release you now
But you never release yourself
I say you fit never release yourself
Colo' mentality!
"You have not done what everybody is doing,” said the naked man, “and in this world that is one of the crimes. You have always known that."
Reading this book right after finishing Kwame Nkrumah’s Neocolonialism: The Last Stage of Imperialism and a day after watching Squid Game was one of those rare, perfect coincidences that shattered me—intellectually and emotionally.
😮💨 • 😮💨 • 😮💨
Before I start ranting like the jobless woman I am, let me say something profound:
For the one gifted with knowledge, it is a curse to be surrounded by fools.
For the one who is honest, it is a curse to be surrounded by thieves—because like men, they will stain your white.
That said, let’s pretend I’m smart, and I have something profound to say—because this book has a lot to say.
But if you know me, you’ll know I won’t talk about everything it says. I’ll pick one thread and tug at it.
And so we have it: the core theme of this book is corruption.
Ayi Kwei Armah describes corruption like a rot that slowly creeps through the body, embracing you in profound solitude as you learn to accept it.
Because corruption isn’t just a theme here—it’s the breathing, living machinery of this society.
And sadly, even though this book was written in the 1960s, much of Africa still suffers from what Nkrumah called the last stage of imperialism. We’re not just politically or economically manipulated—we are still mentally colonized.
As the book says:
“Our masters were the white men and we were coming to know this, and the knowledge was filling us with fear first and then with anger.
And they who would be our leaders, they also had the white men for their masters…
But after the fear, what was at the bottom of their beings was not the hate and the anger we knew in our despair.
What they felt was love.
What they felt for their white masters was gratitude and faith.”
Most of us are still licking the boots of those same masters.
Some are waking up. But what is a few in the midst of thousands?
How does a man who knows light, sky, and ocean educate his brother who feels uncomfortable in a dark cave?
These are not just my reflections. These are the unspoken thoughts of the protagonist—the man.
Yes, his name is The Man—and it is fitting.
Because in a world where corruption is imprinted in every eye and soul, he can only be nameless.
But despite it all, I am proud of him.
Because somehow, he walks through the filth and still keeps his dignity intact.
And I?
I don’t think I could do what he does.
Every day I see the rot.
And I blend in.
Because I cannot stand being alone.
So I became a chameleon.
But he was a chichidodo—a bird that eats worms but hates excrement. A paradox. A man trying to stay clean in a place that only rewards the dirty.
This book made me question myself deeply.
How far will I hold on?
It’s easy to say, “I will stand for what is right.”
But what if what is right… becomes a crime?
He be say you be colonial man
You don be slave man before
Them don release you now
But you never release yourself
I say you fit never release yourself
Colo' mentality!
"You have not done what everybody is doing,” said the naked man, “and in this world that is one of the crimes. You have always known that."
Reading this book right after finishing Kwame Nkrumah’s Neocolonialism: The Last Stage of Imperialism and a day after watching Squid Game was one of those rare, perfect coincidences that shattered me—intellectually and emotionally.
😮💨 • 😮💨 • 😮💨
Before I start ranting like the jobless woman I am, let me say something profound:
For the one gifted with knowledge, it is a curse to be surrounded by fools.
For the one who is honest, it is a curse to be surrounded by thieves—because like men, they will stain your white.
That said, let’s pretend I’m smart, and I have something profound to say—because this book has a lot to say.
But if you know me, you’ll know I won’t talk about everything it says. I’ll pick one thread and tug at it.
And so we have it: the core theme of this book is corruption.
Ayi Kwei Armah describes corruption like a rot that slowly creeps through the body, embracing you in profound solitude as you learn to accept it.
Because corruption isn’t just a theme here—it’s the breathing, living machinery of this society.
And sadly, even though this book was written in the 1960s, much of Africa still suffers from what Nkrumah called the last stage of imperialism. We’re not just politically or economically manipulated—we are still mentally colonized.
As the book says:
“Our masters were the white men and we were coming to know this, and the knowledge was filling us with fear first and then with anger.
And they who would be our leaders, they also had the white men for their masters…
But after the fear, what was at the bottom of their beings was not the hate and the anger we knew in our despair.
What they felt was love.
What they felt for their white masters was gratitude and faith.”
Most of us are still licking the boots of those same masters.
Some are waking up. But what is a few in the midst of thousands?
How does a man who knows light, sky, and ocean educate his brother who feels uncomfortable in a dark cave?
These are not just my reflections. These are the unspoken thoughts of the protagonist—the man.
Yes, his name is The Man—and it is fitting.
Because in a world where corruption is imprinted in every eye and soul, he can only be nameless.
But despite it all, I am proud of him.
Because somehow, he walks through the filth and still keeps his dignity intact.
And I?
I don’t think I could do what he does.
Every day I see the rot.
And I blend in.
Because I cannot stand being alone.
So I became a chameleon.
But he was a chichidodo—a bird that eats worms but hates excrement. A paradox. A man trying to stay clean in a place that only rewards the dirty.
This book made me question myself deeply.
How far will I hold on?
It’s easy to say, “I will stand for what is right.”
But what if what is right… becomes a crime?
February 14, 2013
I did not know what to expect from this one. As it turns out, it’s quite a good literary book, although its tone is poorly represented by its cover; picture instead a dark road strewn with litter, under a cloudy sky, lined by buildings in various stages of collapse, and you’ll have a better idea of what to expect.
This book is set in Ghana in the 1960s, and is about corruption. It follows the unnamed third-person narrator, a railroad clerk, who is one of the few who refuses to take bribes--which only angers everyone, from the people who see bribing officials as a normal part of doing business, to his family, who are upset that he isn’t taking every opportunity to provide them with a better life. From that description you might think the book features some kind of crusader, but “the man” (as he’s referred to throughout) doesn’t quite seem to know why he does what he does. No lectures about ideals from him.
At any rate, the book mostly follows the man through his daily life, and is heavy on the description; the writing is quite visual, but often repulsive. (I’ve never seen a book spend so much time in latrines or talking about excrement. A piece of advice: don't read it while you're eating.) Physical decay serves as a metaphor for moral corruption throughout, to a point that might seem heavy-handed to some readers, but effectively creates a dark and oppressive atmosphere. Meanwhile, this is the sort of book that develops characters through minute details of their daily lives, so while we learn relatively little about them, they feel entirely real.
I have not talked about plot, because this book is far to the literary end of the spectrum, with a heavy focus on themes and ideas. Fortunately, the writing is good enough to pull it off. I’m not surprised that many reviewers have encountered this one in university classes; what does surprise me is that it isn’t taught more often.
This book is set in Ghana in the 1960s, and is about corruption. It follows the unnamed third-person narrator, a railroad clerk, who is one of the few who refuses to take bribes--which only angers everyone, from the people who see bribing officials as a normal part of doing business, to his family, who are upset that he isn’t taking every opportunity to provide them with a better life. From that description you might think the book features some kind of crusader, but “the man” (as he’s referred to throughout) doesn’t quite seem to know why he does what he does. No lectures about ideals from him.
At any rate, the book mostly follows the man through his daily life, and is heavy on the description; the writing is quite visual, but often repulsive. (I’ve never seen a book spend so much time in latrines or talking about excrement. A piece of advice: don't read it while you're eating.) Physical decay serves as a metaphor for moral corruption throughout, to a point that might seem heavy-handed to some readers, but effectively creates a dark and oppressive atmosphere. Meanwhile, this is the sort of book that develops characters through minute details of their daily lives, so while we learn relatively little about them, they feel entirely real.
I have not talked about plot, because this book is far to the literary end of the spectrum, with a heavy focus on themes and ideas. Fortunately, the writing is good enough to pull it off. I’m not surprised that many reviewers have encountered this one in university classes; what does surprise me is that it isn’t taught more often.
October 10, 2016
Very intense and intensely written. Also beautifully written. I could only absorb about one chapter a day, both in content and language. Occasionally Armah gets carried away with an elaborate metaphor or description , but generally it works.
The book works to convey the profound tedium and despair of ever getting ahead in an honest manner, or getting a government that isn't just a new corrupt version of the old corrupt government. There is a lot of imagery of shit in this regard, in a simultaneously graphic and abstract style. There are also passages of beauty that describe the sea and even the dignity and inherent order of the man's railroad job. Finally, a mid-novel interlude with a revolutionary philosopher who has assessed the situation and withdrawn completely from the confrontation, but not from his beliefs. He serves as the protagonist's mentor and life vest. For some this might be too blatant a way to inject the politics, but in retrospect it worked as a counterpoint to the cycle of coups that change nothing.
The book works to convey the profound tedium and despair of ever getting ahead in an honest manner, or getting a government that isn't just a new corrupt version of the old corrupt government. There is a lot of imagery of shit in this regard, in a simultaneously graphic and abstract style. There are also passages of beauty that describe the sea and even the dignity and inherent order of the man's railroad job. Finally, a mid-novel interlude with a revolutionary philosopher who has assessed the situation and withdrawn completely from the confrontation, but not from his beliefs. He serves as the protagonist's mentor and life vest. For some this might be too blatant a way to inject the politics, but in retrospect it worked as a counterpoint to the cycle of coups that change nothing.
June 2, 2012
The Beautyful Ones are Not Yet Born is a novel set during the last days of the Nkrumah government in Ghana. It’s about a man resisting corruption, quixotically in the view of most of those around him. The scathing portrayal of a corrupt society is all the sharper because of the contrast with the optimism that came with independence; it’s a novel, among other things, about the loss of hope. A kind of Animal Farm of post-colonialism.
It’s a slim book, less than 200 pages, but it took me quite a long time to read because it required focussed attention: eventually I took it on a long train journey where there were no distractions. It’s just densely written, with detailed, closely observed descriptive passages that are very effective; but also with some convoluted sentences that simply do not allow for skimming. This is the kind of thing:
I know it’s hardly Finnegans Wake, but it’s a bit of a speed bump when you’re reading.
Incidentally, the cover of the Heinemann edition really seems like a terrible choice for a novel which is dark and spiky and intricate. I should know by now: don’t read too much into the cover design. But I think it’s unavoidable that it affects your expectations, and I was really startled by the mismatch between the cover and the content.
The Beautyful Ones are Not Yet Born is my book from Ghana for the Read The World challenge. I tried to find a short passage to quote to give you a flavour, but it doesn’t really lend itself to quoting. So I’ll just say it’s sharp, bitter, evocative, sometimes for my taste slightly overwritten, but often beautiful.
It’s a slim book, less than 200 pages, but it took me quite a long time to read because it required focussed attention: eventually I took it on a long train journey where there were no distractions. It’s just densely written, with detailed, closely observed descriptive passages that are very effective; but also with some convoluted sentences that simply do not allow for skimming. This is the kind of thing:
But along the streets, those who can soon learn to recognize in ordinary faces beings whom the spirit has moved, but who cannot follow where it beckons, so heavy are the small ordinary days of the time.
I know it’s hardly Finnegans Wake, but it’s a bit of a speed bump when you’re reading.
Incidentally, the cover of the Heinemann edition really seems like a terrible choice for a novel which is dark and spiky and intricate. I should know by now: don’t read too much into the cover design. But I think it’s unavoidable that it affects your expectations, and I was really startled by the mismatch between the cover and the content.
The Beautyful Ones are Not Yet Born is my book from Ghana for the Read The World challenge. I tried to find a short passage to quote to give you a flavour, but it doesn’t really lend itself to quoting. So I’ll just say it’s sharp, bitter, evocative, sometimes for my taste slightly overwritten, but often beautiful.
January 22, 2013
All the Beautyful Ones are Not Yet Born, by Ayi Kwei Armah, is an excellent read and the second-best book I read all year, after Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo.
Armah wrote this novel in 1968, only eleven years after Ghana got its independence, and he is often considered to be from the "second generation" of African writers. The first generation wrote around the time of independence and was filled with optimism. Things went bad quickly, though, as Armah's book shows.
The story follows an unnamed man who works in a railway office. He refuses to take bribes or be in any way involved in the corruption that's enriching his friends and destroying his nation. He knows his stance is pointless, because the corruption will continue with or without him, but he stands on his principles. It's a relentlessly pessimistic book, although the writing is beautiful and one corrupt official gets a hilarious comeuppance near the end. I highly recommend it, but not if you're in a good mood.
Armah wrote this novel in 1968, only eleven years after Ghana got its independence, and he is often considered to be from the "second generation" of African writers. The first generation wrote around the time of independence and was filled with optimism. Things went bad quickly, though, as Armah's book shows.
The story follows an unnamed man who works in a railway office. He refuses to take bribes or be in any way involved in the corruption that's enriching his friends and destroying his nation. He knows his stance is pointless, because the corruption will continue with or without him, but he stands on his principles. It's a relentlessly pessimistic book, although the writing is beautiful and one corrupt official gets a hilarious comeuppance near the end. I highly recommend it, but not if you're in a good mood.
February 13, 2024
I've spent a good deal of my life carefully fine tuning my reading in an effort to pierce the veil of my hyperlocalized US WASP life and get the sort of enrichment required that, should it all come crashing down, I'll see it as the rebirth the world so sorely needed and not get sucked into the doomsday paradigm of the many who consider themselves above all that. The problem, of course, is when one is veering away from the 'popular' structure, the 'professional' structure often proves the status quo's backup plan, and so my delving into the 1001 and co. and parsing out anyone not white for especial perusal made for a rather half-assed lesson plan, where every step forward had a 25-75% chance of being two steps backward. This particular book showcases a very thought-heavy viewpoint of Ghana in the aftermath of the supposed decolonized/socialist revolution, which in many ways works against the stereotypes and other literary dehumanizations that the mainstream continues to evoke of "African" writing in the 21st century. However, I've gone some way into growing out of the need to hash out the academic merits whilst composing my personal opinion, so while this text is extremely valuable in the bigger picture of literature as a whole, it's also deceptively myopic, ideologically heavy handed, and lays on the metaphors of excrement thickly enough to desensitize most readers whose experience would otherwise benefit from such pathos. Then again, considering its reception in the white world, perhaps that's exactly what the typical white reader needs. I suppose I should be pleased to no longer be at that stage that needs Plato's Cave copy pasted out every so often (as happens in this work) to relearn what should never be forgotten.
March 27, 2022
Around the World Reading Challenge: GHANA
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An unnamed African man does his best to resit the corrosive slime of corruption taking over his country, while being openly mocked and derided by everyone around him for his principles. The writing is a bit heavy-handed for me at times, but it gets the point across. I can't say I exactly "enjoyed" this one, but it was thought-provoking for sure.
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An unnamed African man does his best to resit the corrosive slime of corruption taking over his country, while being openly mocked and derided by everyone around him for his principles. The writing is a bit heavy-handed for me at times, but it gets the point across. I can't say I exactly "enjoyed" this one, but it was thought-provoking for sure.
September 10, 2025
3.5
"The car sped smoothly along the coast road..The man closed his eyes, and like a piece of twine the thought ran round and round inside his head that it would never be possible to look at such comfortable things and feel a real contempt for them. Envy, certainly, but not contempt. So how was a man ever going to be able to fight against all the things and all the loved ones who never ceased urging that nothing else mattered, that the way was not important, that the end of life was the getting of these comfortable things? For the self, or if not for the self, then for the loved ones, for the children. Nothing else mattered."
i remember seeing someone describe this book as "shit-encrusted" and boy was that somehow an underexaggeration. overall, it is a shame because this book has a lot of moments that are such a genuinely incisive and still ardently relevant examinations of class, colonialism, authority, bureaucracy, corruption, love, ghanian identity, disillusionment and poverty that are written so SO brilliantly that for me anyway, it's masterful. however, that doesn't hide the fact that up until the 40% mark, this was about as hard to get through as paragraphs of reading about shit-caked railings which funnily enough is what a good amount of this novel is about. i don't know if this is in some part owed to me e-reading this on my phone and how ayi kwei armah's long unbroken sentences and paragraphs made this feel longer. this book is incredibly surrealist, up until the 50% mark, nothing really happens - ayi kwei armah just more drills in the rot of corruption, his main character- only referred to as "the man"'s complex relationship with his wife and his children in which he is openly resented for resisting corruption due to it further degrading their quality of life while also being unable to truly express his thoughts. reminded me of catch-22 (SLIGHTLY!! ONLY SLIGHTLY!!) in that it mirrored the insanity of how "the man" is the only character who apart from the "teacher" resists materialism but is treated as a "criminal" because of it. the thing is- that i can't help thinking just how well ayi kwei armah ends up imbuing the themes in all of it's complexity of corruption - he shows the complexity of relationships that suffer due to impoverishment, of the relentless intergenerational cycle of poverty, of broken dreams and hopes that "The man" knows will be repeated, of the ludicrousness of 'politicans' and 'resistors' aliking themselves to almost messiahs - about how after people fought for independence, their goals remained afixing themselves to any means of attaining 'whiteness' the ways they could, by importing "New Zealand butter" and foreign beer and getting fancy cars. "But in my mind the time is buried under centuries now. True, I used to see a lot of hope. I saw men tear down the veils behind which the truth had been hidden. But then the same men, when they had power in their hands at last, began to find the veils useful. They made many more. Life has not changed. Only some people have been growing, becoming different, that is all. After a youth spent fighting the white man, why should not the president discover as he grows older that his real desire has been to be like the white governor himself, to live above all blackness in the big old slave castle? And the men around him, why not?...That is still anyone here ever struggles for: to be nearer the white man. All the shouting against the white men was not hate. It was love. Twisted, but love all the same. Just look around you and you will see it even now. Especially now."
this book takes the fucking cake when it comes to being the rankest book i've ever read and i fucking hope no novel i read ever tops it. literally had to give myself a break near the ending. i will say that seeing armah pull off the parallelism of shit, in that the politician ends up having the worst stench, of having to literally crawl through shit was incredibly satisfying as a metaphor to poverty and to moral corruption if not terrible to read.
i am very glad i read this because it definitely provided a lot of value, a lot of food for thought and so much of this book has incredibly writing that is worth and needs to be poured over. however, this was tortorous to read, not only because of the absurdist and pontificated prose but because of the extremely meandering structure. so. take that into account because it took me almost a month to read.
quotes i love:
- “I think of you as the freest person I know,” said the man.“Then everyone you know is a slave.”…“Yes, but I am not free. I have not stopped wanting to meet
the loved ones and to touch them and be touched by them. But you know that the loved ones are dead even when they walk around the earth like the living, and you know that all they want is that you throw away the thing in your mind that makes you think you are still alive, and their embrace will be a welcome unto death.”
- “ But perhaps the living dead could take some solace in the half-thought that there were so many others dead in life with them. So many, so frighteningly many, that maybe in the end even the efforts one made not to join them resulted only in another, more frustrating kind of living death.”
- “The man was left alone with thoughts of the easy slide and how everything said there was something miserable, something unspeakably dishonest about a man who refused to take and to give what everyone around was busy taking and giving: something unnatural, something very cruel, something that was criminal, for who but a criminal could ever be left with such a feeling of loneliness ?”
- “And there are many, so many, pushing us to the edge and praying that we jump any terrible how and also get close to the gleam, dragging them after us. The loved ones would be the first to curse fate if the would-be leaper landed in prison. The loved ones are also the first to look with longing at the prosperous leapers and everything the leap has got them. Revolving thoughts of speed, of Oyo and cars and drivers, and of accidents. Cowards only are afraid to drive. And Koomson has learned to drive. So the loved ones are in the lead when we are stripped of the little self-respect that remains at this age. The chichidodo. Nothing is left. We dwindle into nothing at all, with nowhere to stand. The pain, whatever one might wish to say, is truly unbearable when you see some twin of yours shoot like a star toward the gleam, so fast that he has light of his own to give.”
- “It would be the same for the children. They would grow up accustomed to senseless cycles, to cleaning work that left everything the same, to efforts that could only end up placing them at other people’s starting points, to the damning knowledge that the race would always be won by men on stilts, and they had not even been given crutches to help them. Perhaps one of them would one day break free from the horrible cycle of the powerless. Perhaps one of them would grow up and soar upward with so much power that there would be enough left over to pull the others also up. Dreams. Dreams to break the backs of children with. Dreams to give a moment’s peace to the parent who knows inside himself that things never work out that way.
- “So this was the real gain. The only real gain. This was the thing for which poor men had fought and shouted. This was what it had come to: not that the whole thing might be overturned and ended, but that a few black men might be pushed closer to their masters, to eat some of the fat into their bellies too. That had been the entire end of it all.”
- “My wife has seen the true salvation.”..“She talks about it, Teacher. It is the blinding gleam of beautiful new houses and the shine of powerful new Mercedes cars. It is also the scent of expensive perfumes and the mass of a new wig.”“Money, you mean.”
- “So I got angry enough to tell her I had seen corruption. Public theft.”“You were very ill-mannered. Unpatriotic, in fact.”“My mother-in-law walked out of my house.”“Good. Down with subversive elements who attack the nation’s fabric.”
- “You have all your freedom.”“That makes me far more of a criminal than you. You see me in the daytime and you think I am free. Perhaps you even imagine I am happy. So keep thinking that. It may give you something to hope for. But I tell you, those I have fled visit me in my dreams.”
"The car sped smoothly along the coast road..The man closed his eyes, and like a piece of twine the thought ran round and round inside his head that it would never be possible to look at such comfortable things and feel a real contempt for them. Envy, certainly, but not contempt. So how was a man ever going to be able to fight against all the things and all the loved ones who never ceased urging that nothing else mattered, that the way was not important, that the end of life was the getting of these comfortable things? For the self, or if not for the self, then for the loved ones, for the children. Nothing else mattered."
i remember seeing someone describe this book as "shit-encrusted" and boy was that somehow an underexaggeration. overall, it is a shame because this book has a lot of moments that are such a genuinely incisive and still ardently relevant examinations of class, colonialism, authority, bureaucracy, corruption, love, ghanian identity, disillusionment and poverty that are written so SO brilliantly that for me anyway, it's masterful. however, that doesn't hide the fact that up until the 40% mark, this was about as hard to get through as paragraphs of reading about shit-caked railings which funnily enough is what a good amount of this novel is about. i don't know if this is in some part owed to me e-reading this on my phone and how ayi kwei armah's long unbroken sentences and paragraphs made this feel longer. this book is incredibly surrealist, up until the 50% mark, nothing really happens - ayi kwei armah just more drills in the rot of corruption, his main character- only referred to as "the man"'s complex relationship with his wife and his children in which he is openly resented for resisting corruption due to it further degrading their quality of life while also being unable to truly express his thoughts. reminded me of catch-22 (SLIGHTLY!! ONLY SLIGHTLY!!) in that it mirrored the insanity of how "the man" is the only character who apart from the "teacher" resists materialism but is treated as a "criminal" because of it. the thing is- that i can't help thinking just how well ayi kwei armah ends up imbuing the themes in all of it's complexity of corruption - he shows the complexity of relationships that suffer due to impoverishment, of the relentless intergenerational cycle of poverty, of broken dreams and hopes that "The man" knows will be repeated, of the ludicrousness of 'politicans' and 'resistors' aliking themselves to almost messiahs - about how after people fought for independence, their goals remained afixing themselves to any means of attaining 'whiteness' the ways they could, by importing "New Zealand butter" and foreign beer and getting fancy cars. "But in my mind the time is buried under centuries now. True, I used to see a lot of hope. I saw men tear down the veils behind which the truth had been hidden. But then the same men, when they had power in their hands at last, began to find the veils useful. They made many more. Life has not changed. Only some people have been growing, becoming different, that is all. After a youth spent fighting the white man, why should not the president discover as he grows older that his real desire has been to be like the white governor himself, to live above all blackness in the big old slave castle? And the men around him, why not?...That is still anyone here ever struggles for: to be nearer the white man. All the shouting against the white men was not hate. It was love. Twisted, but love all the same. Just look around you and you will see it even now. Especially now."
this book takes the fucking cake when it comes to being the rankest book i've ever read and i fucking hope no novel i read ever tops it. literally had to give myself a break near the ending. i will say that seeing armah pull off the parallelism of shit, in that the politician ends up having the worst stench, of having to literally crawl through shit was incredibly satisfying as a metaphor to poverty and to moral corruption if not terrible to read.
i am very glad i read this because it definitely provided a lot of value, a lot of food for thought and so much of this book has incredibly writing that is worth and needs to be poured over. however, this was tortorous to read, not only because of the absurdist and pontificated prose but because of the extremely meandering structure. so. take that into account because it took me almost a month to read.
quotes i love:
- “I think of you as the freest person I know,” said the man.“Then everyone you know is a slave.”…“Yes, but I am not free. I have not stopped wanting to meet
the loved ones and to touch them and be touched by them. But you know that the loved ones are dead even when they walk around the earth like the living, and you know that all they want is that you throw away the thing in your mind that makes you think you are still alive, and their embrace will be a welcome unto death.”
- “ But perhaps the living dead could take some solace in the half-thought that there were so many others dead in life with them. So many, so frighteningly many, that maybe in the end even the efforts one made not to join them resulted only in another, more frustrating kind of living death.”
- “The man was left alone with thoughts of the easy slide and how everything said there was something miserable, something unspeakably dishonest about a man who refused to take and to give what everyone around was busy taking and giving: something unnatural, something very cruel, something that was criminal, for who but a criminal could ever be left with such a feeling of loneliness ?”
- “And there are many, so many, pushing us to the edge and praying that we jump any terrible how and also get close to the gleam, dragging them after us. The loved ones would be the first to curse fate if the would-be leaper landed in prison. The loved ones are also the first to look with longing at the prosperous leapers and everything the leap has got them. Revolving thoughts of speed, of Oyo and cars and drivers, and of accidents. Cowards only are afraid to drive. And Koomson has learned to drive. So the loved ones are in the lead when we are stripped of the little self-respect that remains at this age. The chichidodo. Nothing is left. We dwindle into nothing at all, with nowhere to stand. The pain, whatever one might wish to say, is truly unbearable when you see some twin of yours shoot like a star toward the gleam, so fast that he has light of his own to give.”
- “It would be the same for the children. They would grow up accustomed to senseless cycles, to cleaning work that left everything the same, to efforts that could only end up placing them at other people’s starting points, to the damning knowledge that the race would always be won by men on stilts, and they had not even been given crutches to help them. Perhaps one of them would one day break free from the horrible cycle of the powerless. Perhaps one of them would grow up and soar upward with so much power that there would be enough left over to pull the others also up. Dreams. Dreams to break the backs of children with. Dreams to give a moment’s peace to the parent who knows inside himself that things never work out that way.
- “So this was the real gain. The only real gain. This was the thing for which poor men had fought and shouted. This was what it had come to: not that the whole thing might be overturned and ended, but that a few black men might be pushed closer to their masters, to eat some of the fat into their bellies too. That had been the entire end of it all.”
- “My wife has seen the true salvation.”..“She talks about it, Teacher. It is the blinding gleam of beautiful new houses and the shine of powerful new Mercedes cars. It is also the scent of expensive perfumes and the mass of a new wig.”“Money, you mean.”
- “So I got angry enough to tell her I had seen corruption. Public theft.”“You were very ill-mannered. Unpatriotic, in fact.”“My mother-in-law walked out of my house.”“Good. Down with subversive elements who attack the nation’s fabric.”
- “You have all your freedom.”“That makes me far more of a criminal than you. You see me in the daytime and you think I am free. Perhaps you even imagine I am happy. So keep thinking that. It may give you something to hope for. But I tell you, those I have fled visit me in my dreams.”
September 18, 2014
This is one of those novels where the scale of love and hate is at balance. The writing style is beautifully disgusting that it will render you nauseous. Armah's vivid description of whatever comes out of human orifices is but a technique to portray the corrupted and 'shit-caked' politics of Ghana.
The beauty of the book lies in the fact that one can see his country's reflection within the lines of the book: It isn't as Afrocentric as it seems. The book is raw and literally dirty, but spectacular.
The beauty of the book lies in the fact that one can see his country's reflection within the lines of the book: It isn't as Afrocentric as it seems. The book is raw and literally dirty, but spectacular.
August 25, 2015
An early "African classic" by Armah - warning against the deleterious effects of proliferating corruption, which, alas many decades later has brought much of Africa to its knees
January 10, 2020
I liked the part where hes hanging out with his teacher
January 10, 2018
(More information at www.carlosbattaglini.com)
The Beautyful ones are not yet born by Ayi-Kweih-Armah is a novel that tells the story of a railway traffic control clerk in Ghana, who is disenchanted with life and the course of events in his country. The main character remains nameless, as Armah simply refers to him as ‘the man”. He feels very lonely and misunderstood and finds it increasingly difficult to live in his own country, on his own continent.
He has to hold out against the pressures of his ambitious wife and mother-in-law, who can’t quite grasp why the man refuses to accept a bribe from a timberman (they aspire to enter the system and become rich the quick way). The man goes through life unmotivated and only able to find peace in his walks and with his only friend, Teacher. Teacher is a man who walks around his home naked. He left society behind a long time ago and took refuge in his books, in contemplation and in his bohemian lifestyle. Teacher makes astute reflections on life, however, in his own words, he is still not happy. He feels trapped.
The man feels overwhelmed by so much corruption, which is embodied in Koomson, an old school friend who chose to fall into line and is now a Minister in Nkrumah’s government, a government that is purportedly socialist, but in practice it turns out to be more of the same.
Koomson, just like all other corrupt officials (after all, he who does not steal in Ghana and in Africa is plain stupid), sets an example in Oyo’s mind (the man’s wife), and in the mother-in-law’s, who insist that the man should take advantage of all possible means, be they illicit or not, to get rich and become someone of importance. Regarding Oyo, Teacher even goes as far as saying to the man that he will have to leave her to enjoy her own sadness, unless he is willing to destroy himself to feed her desires.
The pressure to become corrupt continues to mount, but the man refuses to capitulate. Despite feeling immense pain at such refusal, and having a guilty conscience as his values are turned upside down, he hears voices whispering to him stipulating that it is wrong not to steal.
The truth of the matter is that the man feels awful at having to take such ‘honest’ decisions, as they contradict the general trend that applauds corruption. Corruption is ever present in society, that even if you wanted to pursue corrupted officials so as to convey an image of public honesty, the investigation committee would be set up by the corrupted officials themselves, along with the ‘transparent’ structures needed to save themselves.
That’s what makes it so hard to live in a country, on a continent, where most people aspire to live like the very recent white rulers (or executioners, depending on which way you look at things). In fact, according to the narrator, Ghanaians did not feel hate towards white man, or a desire for revenge or something along those lines, but rather, Ghanaians really and truly felt love for white man. The black man loves white man (who is still somewhat in control) although the black man actually needs to find his own solutions himself (according to the narrator).
One aspect that is not explicitly pointed out, although it does seem quite evident, is that most events in the novel take place during Nkrumah’s coming to power and the ensuing collapse of his government and thus in the midst of euphoria following African independence in the 1960s, recently freed from white colonial yoke. At times, the man himself also gets carried away by the wave of hope that spreads across the continent and across Ghana.
He joins one rally or another and he even cheers on the leader. However, deception and disappointment soon creep in, engulfing the man with such depressive thoughts that he finds himself anchored in absolute pessimism. There is no solution, there is no hope – all is lost. Ghana, Africa is cursed by disastrous leaders and misses out on one chance after the other to get out of this rut and use its resources to its advantage, once and for all. All hope is lost.
Melancholy and sadness make up the narrative thread in this novel. The man is not the only one to experience this frustration; some friends join him in taking refuge in marihuana and a bohemian lifestyle so as to escape the heavy burden reality.
War is also mentioned – wars that seem to refer back to colonialist disputes between Ghana and the United Kingdom. More specifically, there were four wars between the Ashantes and the British Empire between 1824 and 1901; this fragmented narrative aspect reappears throughout the novel, which often goes off track and at times even seems to play with surrealism. In any case, it seems clear that the novel backs the argument that claims that the country’s bellicose past has created a dysfunctional and disorganised society, which finds it very hard to move forward.
Nevertheless, it’s not all bad news. As is often the case in many African countries, political positions of power are fickle and Koomson soon becomes a victim of a coup d’état against Nrumah’s government. Koomson is suddenly not only just another citizen, but also one of the coup’s targets. Having hit rock bottom, the former Minister now seeks shelter at the man and his wife’s house.
Feeling sorry for him, they take him in and the man goes as far as helping him to plan a pathetic escape through tunnels full of rubbish and lavatories full of dirt and manure. Maybe it is his loyal nature or his inner goodness that push the man to help Koomson. He manages to lead the politician all the way to a boat, with which he flees to Abidjan, whilst he stays on a Ghanaian beach.
Regarding the novel’s title, one wonders why beautyful and not beautiful? It seems probable that this has been a slip in the English spelling, which is not uncommon in Africa. In fact, in Ghana the main language is Twi and English is not as fluent as one could expect.
It would not be unreasonable to say that the title sounds messianic and hopeful, despite the reigning disillusion: ‘The Beautyful ones are not yet born‘, in other words, the best is yet to come. Picking up on the term “hopeful” one could surmise that in the end, the man, or honesty, “wins”. In some ways, the man has indeed won by sticking to his principles: life goes on for him, while many corrupt and ambitious officials end up in a bad way.
Moreover, we know that Koomson flees Ghana on a boat. It is precisely this boat that is idealised by Oyo and her mother as an ideal means of corruption. Thus, Koomson promises the boat will be theirs, including a crew on board at their service. But life takes them down another path, and the naïve women never set foot on the boat, which causes them great disappointment and acts as a powerful reality check.
Despite the frustration, Oyo seems to reconsider her values and in the end she is happy and proud of her husband, whom she loves, for the way he is, while the man’s sister-in-law is unable to forgive him for the way that he is.
This final bond justifies the marriage, which had previously seemed increasingly unsustainable given the couple’s clash of personalities and interests. But deep down they love each other, and that is what matters. Love is triumphant and Oyo’s materialism eventually succumbs to the ‘humanist theories’.
The novel ends with a coup d’état against Nkrumah’s disappointing socialist government (much criticized in the novel). Of course, the man does not support the coup’s perpetrators, unlike most of his fellow citizens, who automatically switch sides. In the end, the man comprehends that he will never find any answers to his many doubts, from political doubts, to philosophical, existentialist and surrealist doubts.
Not even Teacher can solve his uncertainties. That is just the way life is. Bearing that in mind, he heads back home, to continue with his everyday life. On his way back home, he crosses paths with a lorry whose driver greets him. A second later, he manages to get a glimpse of the back of the lorry, where he reads the caption, ‘The Beautyful ones are not yet born’.
In my opinion, this is the kind of novel that grows on you over time, once you’ve read it. Indeed, despite Ayi Kwei Armah’s intelligent writing, his depth and almost Proustian sensitivity, his tact and ability to activate your five senses, the Ghanaian writer succumbs to a tiring, slow pace (the storytelling only speeds up during the coup d’état).
The excessive descriptions against the backdrop of pessimism drive the reader to despair in some places. I also think the book comes across as slow in many parts because the author focuses almost solely upon the main character, and quite often on his repetitive strolls, significantly slowing down the narrative.
For many, this book could be considered to be beautiful, introspective and deeply honourable. It comes from the guts. Additionally, this novel unmasks and mirrors African mentality rather well, as well as the overall situation on the African continent, especially in Ghana.
It’s a mindset that welcomes corruption as an inherent part of popular culture, an almost illicit path to accomplish the status most wish to reach: either a millionaire or a powerful person.
Only a minority of honest people refuse to sell themselves to corruption and a lack of values, at the cost of living in sadness and disenchantment, knowingly facing the never-ending question forever: ‘to steal, or not to steal’.
Corruption is so rife, that sometimes people don’t steal, not because they believe it to be wrong, but because they don’t have the guts to and are therefore considered cowards. With regard to the protagonist, the novel goes as far as questioning the man’s ability to control himself, considering that he would be admired by everyone, make his family proud and even be secretly happy for a brief moment if he could do what everyone asked of him and lose control of himself and behave like someone he was not and never would be.
Nevertheless, the man resists temptation. After all, the novel also states that it was not the things themselves, but the way to get them, that led to much confusion in the soul.
More information at www.carlosbattaglini.com
The Beautyful ones are not yet born by Ayi-Kweih-Armah is a novel that tells the story of a railway traffic control clerk in Ghana, who is disenchanted with life and the course of events in his country. The main character remains nameless, as Armah simply refers to him as ‘the man”. He feels very lonely and misunderstood and finds it increasingly difficult to live in his own country, on his own continent.
He has to hold out against the pressures of his ambitious wife and mother-in-law, who can’t quite grasp why the man refuses to accept a bribe from a timberman (they aspire to enter the system and become rich the quick way). The man goes through life unmotivated and only able to find peace in his walks and with his only friend, Teacher. Teacher is a man who walks around his home naked. He left society behind a long time ago and took refuge in his books, in contemplation and in his bohemian lifestyle. Teacher makes astute reflections on life, however, in his own words, he is still not happy. He feels trapped.
The man feels overwhelmed by so much corruption, which is embodied in Koomson, an old school friend who chose to fall into line and is now a Minister in Nkrumah’s government, a government that is purportedly socialist, but in practice it turns out to be more of the same.
Koomson, just like all other corrupt officials (after all, he who does not steal in Ghana and in Africa is plain stupid), sets an example in Oyo’s mind (the man’s wife), and in the mother-in-law’s, who insist that the man should take advantage of all possible means, be they illicit or not, to get rich and become someone of importance. Regarding Oyo, Teacher even goes as far as saying to the man that he will have to leave her to enjoy her own sadness, unless he is willing to destroy himself to feed her desires.
The pressure to become corrupt continues to mount, but the man refuses to capitulate. Despite feeling immense pain at such refusal, and having a guilty conscience as his values are turned upside down, he hears voices whispering to him stipulating that it is wrong not to steal.
The truth of the matter is that the man feels awful at having to take such ‘honest’ decisions, as they contradict the general trend that applauds corruption. Corruption is ever present in society, that even if you wanted to pursue corrupted officials so as to convey an image of public honesty, the investigation committee would be set up by the corrupted officials themselves, along with the ‘transparent’ structures needed to save themselves.
That’s what makes it so hard to live in a country, on a continent, where most people aspire to live like the very recent white rulers (or executioners, depending on which way you look at things). In fact, according to the narrator, Ghanaians did not feel hate towards white man, or a desire for revenge or something along those lines, but rather, Ghanaians really and truly felt love for white man. The black man loves white man (who is still somewhat in control) although the black man actually needs to find his own solutions himself (according to the narrator).
One aspect that is not explicitly pointed out, although it does seem quite evident, is that most events in the novel take place during Nkrumah’s coming to power and the ensuing collapse of his government and thus in the midst of euphoria following African independence in the 1960s, recently freed from white colonial yoke. At times, the man himself also gets carried away by the wave of hope that spreads across the continent and across Ghana.
He joins one rally or another and he even cheers on the leader. However, deception and disappointment soon creep in, engulfing the man with such depressive thoughts that he finds himself anchored in absolute pessimism. There is no solution, there is no hope – all is lost. Ghana, Africa is cursed by disastrous leaders and misses out on one chance after the other to get out of this rut and use its resources to its advantage, once and for all. All hope is lost.
Melancholy and sadness make up the narrative thread in this novel. The man is not the only one to experience this frustration; some friends join him in taking refuge in marihuana and a bohemian lifestyle so as to escape the heavy burden reality.
War is also mentioned – wars that seem to refer back to colonialist disputes between Ghana and the United Kingdom. More specifically, there were four wars between the Ashantes and the British Empire between 1824 and 1901; this fragmented narrative aspect reappears throughout the novel, which often goes off track and at times even seems to play with surrealism. In any case, it seems clear that the novel backs the argument that claims that the country’s bellicose past has created a dysfunctional and disorganised society, which finds it very hard to move forward.
Nevertheless, it’s not all bad news. As is often the case in many African countries, political positions of power are fickle and Koomson soon becomes a victim of a coup d’état against Nrumah’s government. Koomson is suddenly not only just another citizen, but also one of the coup’s targets. Having hit rock bottom, the former Minister now seeks shelter at the man and his wife’s house.
Feeling sorry for him, they take him in and the man goes as far as helping him to plan a pathetic escape through tunnels full of rubbish and lavatories full of dirt and manure. Maybe it is his loyal nature or his inner goodness that push the man to help Koomson. He manages to lead the politician all the way to a boat, with which he flees to Abidjan, whilst he stays on a Ghanaian beach.
Regarding the novel’s title, one wonders why beautyful and not beautiful? It seems probable that this has been a slip in the English spelling, which is not uncommon in Africa. In fact, in Ghana the main language is Twi and English is not as fluent as one could expect.
It would not be unreasonable to say that the title sounds messianic and hopeful, despite the reigning disillusion: ‘The Beautyful ones are not yet born‘, in other words, the best is yet to come. Picking up on the term “hopeful” one could surmise that in the end, the man, or honesty, “wins”. In some ways, the man has indeed won by sticking to his principles: life goes on for him, while many corrupt and ambitious officials end up in a bad way.
Moreover, we know that Koomson flees Ghana on a boat. It is precisely this boat that is idealised by Oyo and her mother as an ideal means of corruption. Thus, Koomson promises the boat will be theirs, including a crew on board at their service. But life takes them down another path, and the naïve women never set foot on the boat, which causes them great disappointment and acts as a powerful reality check.
Despite the frustration, Oyo seems to reconsider her values and in the end she is happy and proud of her husband, whom she loves, for the way he is, while the man’s sister-in-law is unable to forgive him for the way that he is.
This final bond justifies the marriage, which had previously seemed increasingly unsustainable given the couple’s clash of personalities and interests. But deep down they love each other, and that is what matters. Love is triumphant and Oyo’s materialism eventually succumbs to the ‘humanist theories’.
The novel ends with a coup d’état against Nkrumah’s disappointing socialist government (much criticized in the novel). Of course, the man does not support the coup’s perpetrators, unlike most of his fellow citizens, who automatically switch sides. In the end, the man comprehends that he will never find any answers to his many doubts, from political doubts, to philosophical, existentialist and surrealist doubts.
Not even Teacher can solve his uncertainties. That is just the way life is. Bearing that in mind, he heads back home, to continue with his everyday life. On his way back home, he crosses paths with a lorry whose driver greets him. A second later, he manages to get a glimpse of the back of the lorry, where he reads the caption, ‘The Beautyful ones are not yet born’.
In my opinion, this is the kind of novel that grows on you over time, once you’ve read it. Indeed, despite Ayi Kwei Armah’s intelligent writing, his depth and almost Proustian sensitivity, his tact and ability to activate your five senses, the Ghanaian writer succumbs to a tiring, slow pace (the storytelling only speeds up during the coup d’état).
The excessive descriptions against the backdrop of pessimism drive the reader to despair in some places. I also think the book comes across as slow in many parts because the author focuses almost solely upon the main character, and quite often on his repetitive strolls, significantly slowing down the narrative.
For many, this book could be considered to be beautiful, introspective and deeply honourable. It comes from the guts. Additionally, this novel unmasks and mirrors African mentality rather well, as well as the overall situation on the African continent, especially in Ghana.
It’s a mindset that welcomes corruption as an inherent part of popular culture, an almost illicit path to accomplish the status most wish to reach: either a millionaire or a powerful person.
Only a minority of honest people refuse to sell themselves to corruption and a lack of values, at the cost of living in sadness and disenchantment, knowingly facing the never-ending question forever: ‘to steal, or not to steal’.
Corruption is so rife, that sometimes people don’t steal, not because they believe it to be wrong, but because they don’t have the guts to and are therefore considered cowards. With regard to the protagonist, the novel goes as far as questioning the man’s ability to control himself, considering that he would be admired by everyone, make his family proud and even be secretly happy for a brief moment if he could do what everyone asked of him and lose control of himself and behave like someone he was not and never would be.
Nevertheless, the man resists temptation. After all, the novel also states that it was not the things themselves, but the way to get them, that led to much confusion in the soul.
More information at www.carlosbattaglini.com
June 21, 2023
Sebenarnya saya tak tahu nak cakap apa tentang buku ini. Ia buku yang penuh dengan kekecewaan seorang lelaki tidak bernama terhadap negaranya. Noda rasuah yang membuatkan mental dan jiwa lelaki ini hancur musnah.
Ayi Kwei Armah menempelak kerajaan merdeka Ghana dalam buku ini. Beliau membawa kesan rasuah paling halus dan tulus dalam kehidupan hari-hari masyarakat. Lihat keliling kita, adakah kemajuan seiring dengan mentaliti masyarakat?
_____________________
Nasib lelaki tidak bernama ini terus diuji bila rakan baiknya dijulang dengan kemewahan. Ibu mentua dan isteri terus mendesak supaya dia juga bermain dengan 'skim cepat kaya' ini. Mana nak letak? Maruah diri? Atau kasih kepada keluarga?
𝘽𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙝 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩𝙪 𝙙𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙞:
𝘿𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙞 𝙞𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙪 𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙝 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙞 𝙠𝙪𝙖𝙨𝙖 𝙠𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙙𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙠 𝙠𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙬𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙢𝙪𝙝 𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜-𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙝 𝙟𝙪𝙟𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙣 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙝 𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙢 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙪𝙜𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙠𝙖, 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙠𝙖 𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙜𝙖𝙥 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙝, 𝙟𝙪𝙟𝙪𝙧, 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣, 𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙣 𝙙𝙞𝙗𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙞. 𝙆𝙞𝙩𝙖 𝙩𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙠 𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙞 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙖, 𝙠𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙞 𝙟𝙞𝙠𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙖 𝙟𝙪𝙜𝙖 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙮𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙜.
Penulis juga tidak ragu-ragu membuka pekung sikap menteri-menteri Afrika yang meniru sang penjajah. Saya rasa cukup jelik dan berfikir-fikir siapakah dikalangan wakil negara kita juga bersikap begitu. Ah, ramai!
_____________________
Pedih, sakit, suka, sinis dan busuk itulah yang sering digambarkan. Bacaan panjang, lama dan memenungkan. Saya fikir ia akan jadi bacaan membosankan rupanya mencapai bacaan kritis.
Adakah Ghana sudah menerima sinar keindahan selepas buku ini ditulis pada tahun 1968? Dan adakah Malaysia kekal menjaga prinsip keindahannya? Atau yang indah itu tetaplah masih belum menjelma dimana-mana...
Ayi Kwei Armah menempelak kerajaan merdeka Ghana dalam buku ini. Beliau membawa kesan rasuah paling halus dan tulus dalam kehidupan hari-hari masyarakat. Lihat keliling kita, adakah kemajuan seiring dengan mentaliti masyarakat?
_____________________
Nasib lelaki tidak bernama ini terus diuji bila rakan baiknya dijulang dengan kemewahan. Ibu mentua dan isteri terus mendesak supaya dia juga bermain dengan 'skim cepat kaya' ini. Mana nak letak? Maruah diri? Atau kasih kepada keluarga?
𝘽𝙚𝙜𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙝 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙖 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩𝙪 𝙙𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙞:
𝘿𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙞 𝙞𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙪 𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙧𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙝 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙞 𝙠𝙪𝙖𝙨𝙖 𝙠𝙚𝙥𝙖𝙙𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙠 𝙠𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙬𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙢𝙪𝙝 𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜-𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙝 𝙟𝙪𝙟𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙣 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙝 𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙢 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙠𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙪𝙜𝙖𝙨 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙠𝙖, 𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙠𝙖 𝙙𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙜𝙖𝙥 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙝, 𝙟𝙪𝙟𝙪𝙧, 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣, 𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙣 𝙙𝙞𝙗𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙞. 𝙆𝙞𝙩𝙖 𝙩𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙠 𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙞 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙖, 𝙠𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙞 𝙟𝙞𝙠𝙖 𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙖 𝙟𝙪𝙜𝙖 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙮𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙜.
Penulis juga tidak ragu-ragu membuka pekung sikap menteri-menteri Afrika yang meniru sang penjajah. Saya rasa cukup jelik dan berfikir-fikir siapakah dikalangan wakil negara kita juga bersikap begitu. Ah, ramai!
_____________________
Pedih, sakit, suka, sinis dan busuk itulah yang sering digambarkan. Bacaan panjang, lama dan memenungkan. Saya fikir ia akan jadi bacaan membosankan rupanya mencapai bacaan kritis.
Adakah Ghana sudah menerima sinar keindahan selepas buku ini ditulis pada tahun 1968? Dan adakah Malaysia kekal menjaga prinsip keindahannya? Atau yang indah itu tetaplah masih belum menjelma dimana-mana...
August 20, 2021
Próbálom bővíteni olvasási világatlaszomat, főleg ezért kezdtem bele ebbe a ghánai regénybe. Aztán pár fejezet után hátra kellett lapoznom Karig Sára sarlóval és kalapáccsal megírt utószavához, és hát persze, éreztem én, Harvard. Nem Afrika mítoszoktól és babonáktól terhes nyelve, hanem az úri eleganciával fogalmazó angolszász intellektüel szól itt hozzám. Szóval aki valami igazán afrikait akar olvasni, annak nem feltétlenül ez a legjobb választás.
Persze mi lenne afrikaibb a szegénységnél és a korrupciónál (l. még: afrikumok), ami a két fő témája ennek a regénynek. 1965-66-ban járunk, a ghánai szocialista kísérlet végnapjaiban. Hogy miért kellett ezt ’75-ben nálunk kiadni, és ezzel a vörös farokként lebegő utószóval ellátni, nem tudom, hisz a regény épp arról szól, hogyan pattan le az afrikai életstílus és gondolkozás a lenini ideológiáról. Az egyik szereplő ki is jelenti, hogy ez itt nem fog menni, világos volt az elejitől fogva, persze azt érdemes volt kivárni, amíg tejelt a szovjet, gondolom.
Végtelenül lehangoló regény, történetet nem mondanék, mert az nemigen van, csak a végén, a puccs eseményeihez kapcsolódóan. Az addigi események inkább csak ürügyet szolgáltatnak a főszereplő férfinek, hogy hosszasan borongjon az állapotokon, meg azon, hogy ő itt az egyetlen becsületes ember széles e szavannán. Dögunalmas na, ahogy csak egy bölcsész tud unalmas lenni, aki a kommunista eszményt próbálja elültetni a talajba, csak nem veszi észre, hogy már le van minden betonozva.
Kedvenc idealista idézetem: „Vajon meddig lesz Afrika a vezetőivel megátkozva.” (99. oldal)
Azt hiszem azóta nyilvánvaló lett, hogy a földrészt behelyettesíthetjük bármelyik másikkal.
Persze mi lenne afrikaibb a szegénységnél és a korrupciónál (l. még: afrikumok), ami a két fő témája ennek a regénynek. 1965-66-ban járunk, a ghánai szocialista kísérlet végnapjaiban. Hogy miért kellett ezt ’75-ben nálunk kiadni, és ezzel a vörös farokként lebegő utószóval ellátni, nem tudom, hisz a regény épp arról szól, hogyan pattan le az afrikai életstílus és gondolkozás a lenini ideológiáról. Az egyik szereplő ki is jelenti, hogy ez itt nem fog menni, világos volt az elejitől fogva, persze azt érdemes volt kivárni, amíg tejelt a szovjet, gondolom.
Végtelenül lehangoló regény, történetet nem mondanék, mert az nemigen van, csak a végén, a puccs eseményeihez kapcsolódóan. Az addigi események inkább csak ürügyet szolgáltatnak a főszereplő férfinek, hogy hosszasan borongjon az állapotokon, meg azon, hogy ő itt az egyetlen becsületes ember széles e szavannán. Dögunalmas na, ahogy csak egy bölcsész tud unalmas lenni, aki a kommunista eszményt próbálja elültetni a talajba, csak nem veszi észre, hogy már le van minden betonozva.
Kedvenc idealista idézetem: „Vajon meddig lesz Afrika a vezetőivel megátkozva.” (99. oldal)
Azt hiszem azóta nyilvánvaló lett, hogy a földrészt behelyettesíthetjük bármelyik másikkal.
January 29, 2015
The moment you put down this book, you immediately understand why the author's name is Ayi Kwei Armah. Very much like Ngugi, Achebe and Soyinka, these are African writers who were closer to their history than many of us now are. Tethered into the history of an Africa prior to colonialism, the writing shows you a view of a man who has observed the changes and is not content.
We have heard stories about post colonial Africa and the state of that Africa is described with interesting clarity in this tale. Similar to A Grain of Wheat, the premise is that with the leaving of the colonialists, there will be freedom and liberty and self actualisation for the Africans in their country. However it turns out that what these African countries get, are African leaders fitting in the shoes of the white masters they previously spoke rigorously against.
Armah's tale shows you a hopeless tale of resignation for a man who realises the promises of prosperity were empty. There was no room for honesty in this Ghana. For one to get ahead, one must lose his honour. Yet in a way, the dilemma is that anyone not brave enough to lose this honour for the sake of his family or himself is a disappointment. Corruption is not a vice rather a virtue. The need to be white is not a vice rather a virtue and there are very few who disagree with this.
The man, who is interestingly not named in the entire book works at a train station, but this was originally supposed to be a stop over on his way to university and greater opportunities. His mother in law and wife are disappointed when he refuses to take a bribe that should increase the wellness of his family. He is ridiculed because he is not man enough to be corrupt.
His refuge is a friend who is merely called Teacher. Their conversations are utterly engaging as they deliver philosophical notes on the state of the post colonial Ghana which is the state all over Africa. They take on social issues, like parenting, marriage, poverty and fear. And while the Teacher seems to be so wise, he also is resigned to the fate that there is no change in the near future.
As you read the book, you realise so much of it could be spoken of our countries. Where people aim to achieve their dreams of living on hills, drive fancy cars, have large houses and beautiful wives and will do anything to get it. Where one who does not take this path is looked at as foolish.
Armah's style is a bit frustrating. He uses very long sentences quite often, and the dialogue happens not too often. There are times you feel you are walking a parched journey with no water in sight. One thing that struck me was his very vivid imagery. So vivid it made me cringe. It is quite funny though that the things we know well when told vividly through another's eyes often end up looking offensive.
His dialogue though is extremely entertaining. It is one of his strengths. The points of dialogue are not that many but they are the best parts of the book . This is because they flesh out an ongoing nervousness and expectation. You are always holding your breath while reading his narrative, so that when the dialogue comes, you breathe a very good long breath!
The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born is a story of hopelessness in a place where there should be hope. It's a story of a vicious circle of leaders only intending to look after their own interests even when they seem concerned about the citizens. It's a story that condemns the common man without prospects to despair because there is absolutely no hope in the theme! Ah what a sad thing for Africa then! And what a turn around for Ghana who have since then moved on to better prospects!
We have heard stories about post colonial Africa and the state of that Africa is described with interesting clarity in this tale. Similar to A Grain of Wheat, the premise is that with the leaving of the colonialists, there will be freedom and liberty and self actualisation for the Africans in their country. However it turns out that what these African countries get, are African leaders fitting in the shoes of the white masters they previously spoke rigorously against.
Armah's tale shows you a hopeless tale of resignation for a man who realises the promises of prosperity were empty. There was no room for honesty in this Ghana. For one to get ahead, one must lose his honour. Yet in a way, the dilemma is that anyone not brave enough to lose this honour for the sake of his family or himself is a disappointment. Corruption is not a vice rather a virtue. The need to be white is not a vice rather a virtue and there are very few who disagree with this.
The man, who is interestingly not named in the entire book works at a train station, but this was originally supposed to be a stop over on his way to university and greater opportunities. His mother in law and wife are disappointed when he refuses to take a bribe that should increase the wellness of his family. He is ridiculed because he is not man enough to be corrupt.
His refuge is a friend who is merely called Teacher. Their conversations are utterly engaging as they deliver philosophical notes on the state of the post colonial Ghana which is the state all over Africa. They take on social issues, like parenting, marriage, poverty and fear. And while the Teacher seems to be so wise, he also is resigned to the fate that there is no change in the near future.
As you read the book, you realise so much of it could be spoken of our countries. Where people aim to achieve their dreams of living on hills, drive fancy cars, have large houses and beautiful wives and will do anything to get it. Where one who does not take this path is looked at as foolish.
Armah's style is a bit frustrating. He uses very long sentences quite often, and the dialogue happens not too often. There are times you feel you are walking a parched journey with no water in sight. One thing that struck me was his very vivid imagery. So vivid it made me cringe. It is quite funny though that the things we know well when told vividly through another's eyes often end up looking offensive.
His dialogue though is extremely entertaining. It is one of his strengths. The points of dialogue are not that many but they are the best parts of the book . This is because they flesh out an ongoing nervousness and expectation. You are always holding your breath while reading his narrative, so that when the dialogue comes, you breathe a very good long breath!
The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born is a story of hopelessness in a place where there should be hope. It's a story of a vicious circle of leaders only intending to look after their own interests even when they seem concerned about the citizens. It's a story that condemns the common man without prospects to despair because there is absolutely no hope in the theme! Ah what a sad thing for Africa then! And what a turn around for Ghana who have since then moved on to better prospects!
March 14, 2023
found a copy of this on my shelf, probably a remnant from a post-colonial theory and literature course i took back in uni. nearly DNF because 50 pages in i felt like crawling out of my skin but i’m glad i stuck through bc towards the end i finally understood why the beginning of the book had to be like that.
this book from the 1960s is told from the perspective of the Ghanian everyman, somewhat heroic in his refusal to become “oily” for the sake of personal interest and at the expense of others. he grapples with his morality as he feels torn between his responsibilities towards his wife and children, and his personal principles. in contrast, his foil or “twin,” someone he went to school with, rises through the political ranks and lives in the lap of luxury by aligning himself with the colonial powers that be. it is very droning and depressing (with the occasional reference to Plato’s cave) until chapter 13 when a coup occurs and there is a reversal of fortunes. for me i felt most vindicated when the protagonist’s wife finally stopped ragging on him and expressed appreciation for the upright man that he was.
interestingly there is the motif of shit/ bodily excrement that seemed to take up a disproportionate bulk of the narrative — or so i thought. as i was reading i suddenly recalled my professor saying once that we are all just “walking shit-drains,” and i think this book well and truly encapsulates that concept. no matter whether you’re rich or poor, whether your house has a toilet or a humble latrine, at the end of the day you are/have a body that produces excrement. it is befitting that koomson’s inescapable fall from grace begins with his overwhelming stench and a necessary trip into a literal shit drain, the very same one he turned his nose up at earlier.
“There is something so terrible in watching a black man trying at all points to be the dark ghost of the European . . . How could they understand that even those who have not been anywhere know that the black man who has spent his life fleeing from himself into whiteness has no power if the white master gives him none? . . . We knew then, and we know now, that the only real power black men can have will come from black people.”
this book from the 1960s is told from the perspective of the Ghanian everyman, somewhat heroic in his refusal to become “oily” for the sake of personal interest and at the expense of others. he grapples with his morality as he feels torn between his responsibilities towards his wife and children, and his personal principles. in contrast, his foil or “twin,” someone he went to school with, rises through the political ranks and lives in the lap of luxury by aligning himself with the colonial powers that be. it is very droning and depressing (with the occasional reference to Plato’s cave) until chapter 13 when a coup occurs and there is a reversal of fortunes. for me i felt most vindicated when the protagonist’s wife finally stopped ragging on him and expressed appreciation for the upright man that he was.
interestingly there is the motif of shit/ bodily excrement that seemed to take up a disproportionate bulk of the narrative — or so i thought. as i was reading i suddenly recalled my professor saying once that we are all just “walking shit-drains,” and i think this book well and truly encapsulates that concept. no matter whether you’re rich or poor, whether your house has a toilet or a humble latrine, at the end of the day you are/have a body that produces excrement. it is befitting that koomson’s inescapable fall from grace begins with his overwhelming stench and a necessary trip into a literal shit drain, the very same one he turned his nose up at earlier.
“There is something so terrible in watching a black man trying at all points to be the dark ghost of the European . . . How could they understand that even those who have not been anywhere know that the black man who has spent his life fleeing from himself into whiteness has no power if the white master gives him none? . . . We knew then, and we know now, that the only real power black men can have will come from black people.”
February 24, 2018
A true classic of African post-colonial litterature, written long ago (1960s) but still relevant today: many citizens nowadays are equally desperate about personal opportunities to have a better life and about rampant corruption that erodes the cohesion of societies.
Though it took me some chapters to get into the story, I started appreciating the novel and the main character (the man) more and more while progressing towards the end. Though the man is considered by society (and by his loved ones) as a weak person and a fool, he is truely very strong for not giving in to the temptation of choosing "rotten, sweet ways".
The novel deals with the historical disappointment with postcolonial regimes ("So this was the real gain. The only real gain. This was the thing for which poor men had fought and shouted. This was what it had come to: not that the whole thing might be overturned and ended, but that a few black men might be pushed closer to their masters, to eat some of the fat into their bellies too."), but also with how individuals stop resisting ("Even those who started out with a certain wholeness in their persons, it was funny with what predictability they got themselves ready eventually to give up and go. Men have thought they had no use for the sweetnesses, their own personal selves. But for all such men there have been ways to get to the rotten, sweet ways. For the children.).
Whereas I understand the parallel of the rotten ways people use and the dirt and shit omnipresent in the story, to me there is just a bit too much of it.
Though it took me some chapters to get into the story, I started appreciating the novel and the main character (the man) more and more while progressing towards the end. Though the man is considered by society (and by his loved ones) as a weak person and a fool, he is truely very strong for not giving in to the temptation of choosing "rotten, sweet ways".
The novel deals with the historical disappointment with postcolonial regimes ("So this was the real gain. The only real gain. This was the thing for which poor men had fought and shouted. This was what it had come to: not that the whole thing might be overturned and ended, but that a few black men might be pushed closer to their masters, to eat some of the fat into their bellies too."), but also with how individuals stop resisting ("Even those who started out with a certain wholeness in their persons, it was funny with what predictability they got themselves ready eventually to give up and go. Men have thought they had no use for the sweetnesses, their own personal selves. But for all such men there have been ways to get to the rotten, sweet ways. For the children.).
Whereas I understand the parallel of the rotten ways people use and the dirt and shit omnipresent in the story, to me there is just a bit too much of it.
August 29, 2014
In 2008 I visited Ghana for my first time. While there, I asked a few people if I was to read one book about Ghana, what book should I read. This was the book that so many of my friends mentioned. I didn't read it for many years, until my second visit to Ghana in 2014. I started reading the book on the airplane and finished it in Accra, Ghana.
The book was good in giving a greater insight into real Ghana, behind the walls and fences that is far from the tourist norms. Some of the book's content was too explicit for me and I would quickly try and skip over the language and unnecessary vocabulary. Overall the book was insightful and gave me a greater emic understanding. I do not take everything the author writes about as 'exactly how it is in Ghana', but figure there must be some truth, jaded or not, in it's pages. I know this is only one perspective of Ghana. I would love to see other works from Ghanians get out into the masses and let more voices be heard. I see more hope in Ghana then how this book leaves the reader. I believe in the people, the few friends that I have met. The people of Ghana are going places.
It is also fun to talk literature with Ghanians, not something most foreigners may be able to do. The author is one of the most famous Ghanian writers, at least as far as I know, which isn't much.
The book was good in giving a greater insight into real Ghana, behind the walls and fences that is far from the tourist norms. Some of the book's content was too explicit for me and I would quickly try and skip over the language and unnecessary vocabulary. Overall the book was insightful and gave me a greater emic understanding. I do not take everything the author writes about as 'exactly how it is in Ghana', but figure there must be some truth, jaded or not, in it's pages. I know this is only one perspective of Ghana. I would love to see other works from Ghanians get out into the masses and let more voices be heard. I see more hope in Ghana then how this book leaves the reader. I believe in the people, the few friends that I have met. The people of Ghana are going places.
It is also fun to talk literature with Ghanians, not something most foreigners may be able to do. The author is one of the most famous Ghanian writers, at least as far as I know, which isn't much.
March 14, 2018
This is one well written book. At times it is gritty, full of despair, hopelessness and the filth of human waste. It paints the picture of an educated Ghanian civil servant, only known as the man, living with the only thing he has - his values - which sees him reject the Ghanian national sport of corruption in a country where socialism has failed due to the greed of the government and those who were in positions of power.
There is a lot of power in the story telling and the actions of the characters. The anger of a bus conductor and taxi driver that exploits their power. The envy of the man's wife and mother-in-law who idolise those who are doing well and ridicule the man for failing to capitalise in his position as a railway official. The snobbish wife of the government Minister who belittles the man. The terrified Minister escaping after a coup. The naked Teacher who has adopted a Bohemian lifestyle but is still not happy. The many black men who try to live like white men. The utopian dream of what independence will bring that crashes down. The dysfunctional and disorganised government totally unprepared and unwilling to learn the basics of economics.
40 years after it's release, this book still packs a punch on what went wrong in Africa post independence.
There is a lot of power in the story telling and the actions of the characters. The anger of a bus conductor and taxi driver that exploits their power. The envy of the man's wife and mother-in-law who idolise those who are doing well and ridicule the man for failing to capitalise in his position as a railway official. The snobbish wife of the government Minister who belittles the man. The terrified Minister escaping after a coup. The naked Teacher who has adopted a Bohemian lifestyle but is still not happy. The many black men who try to live like white men. The utopian dream of what independence will bring that crashes down. The dysfunctional and disorganised government totally unprepared and unwilling to learn the basics of economics.
40 years after it's release, this book still packs a punch on what went wrong in Africa post independence.
February 7, 2017
there is a part that goes:
"When the war was over the soldiers came back to homes broken in their absence and they themselves brought murder in their hearts and gave it to those nearest them".
& this entire novel is equally, sublimely, stunning.
I really do think that Ayi Kwei Armah is that meeting-place of postcolonialism & poetry
that is so so important & crucial
like every word that Gayatri Spivak ever utters
is poetic, w/ purpose
I wish I had splurged & bought a print-copy of this book
rather than the xeroxed-through-the-ages PDF I
bled out of the internet
w/ all its +100 pages
that get grimy as they rub against the bottom of my backpack.
It is so hard to enjoy reading this amazing book
in a way that is digestable & retainable
when I read it, unbound
& in the East Asian Lib
where I am always judged
for my noisy snacks.
I will probably order a copy online
& be a better person for it.
"When the war was over the soldiers came back to homes broken in their absence and they themselves brought murder in their hearts and gave it to those nearest them".
& this entire novel is equally, sublimely, stunning.
I really do think that Ayi Kwei Armah is that meeting-place of postcolonialism & poetry
that is so so important & crucial
like every word that Gayatri Spivak ever utters
is poetic, w/ purpose
I wish I had splurged & bought a print-copy of this book
rather than the xeroxed-through-the-ages PDF I
bled out of the internet
w/ all its +100 pages
that get grimy as they rub against the bottom of my backpack.
It is so hard to enjoy reading this amazing book
in a way that is digestable & retainable
when I read it, unbound
& in the East Asian Lib
where I am always judged
for my noisy snacks.
I will probably order a copy online
& be a better person for it.
February 18, 2017
Bleak, interesting novel of corruption whose descriptions veer between the beautiful and the rancid. I don't think I've ever known a writer more preoccupied with human filth, and though Armah's choice is thematically on-the-nose (the story is of the lone man who resists corruption in mid-60's Ghana), the result is a unique mix of the visceral and cerebral. The opening is especially good, as is a lean Fellini-esque 1st person chapter at the halfway point. The book has a slight MFA vibe (the plot gets too neatly rounded off, every Chekhov's gun goes off in parade-like sequence), and it's too rambly and predictable on occasion, but when it's good it's really good: HUNGER mixed with Kafka and just a bit of John Waters. I didn't know much about Nkrumah or the situation in Ghana until after I'd read the book, and it might be a good bit of advance Wikipedia reading to supplement the experience, but the work stands on its own.
July 12, 2008
I picked this book up on a fluke in Jamaica after I finished reading a John Feinstein book. I'm glad that I did because this book is incredible. It's about the breaking of one man's soul in post-Nkrumah Ghana. It's simple, it's sparse, it's striking. The decay of the character and the people surrounding him are similar to that of Nausea by Sartre. But, whatever I say, it's not going to do this book justice. Stop reading this right now. Go get this book and read it from cover to cover in one sitting (it's short). This book is so good, I sent it to my friend in Nevada, and I never send people books. Ever. Think about that, and then go get it.
March 15, 2014
I found the first third of the book really slow and difficult to get into. In fact - I gave up two or seven times. But, fortunately, I gave it one more try at a time it was picking up.
It is primarily a political book and then personal (as if the two can ever be seperated). It is set around the time of Nkrumah's Ghana and tells through the livings of one man that power brings corruption. It tells through his observations that as great as our liberators were in freeing us, power and its first daughter wealth became to them a more attractive couple than the fighting of the powerless.
Ayi Kwei Armah delivers 'an uncomfortable human fable'. Read it.
It is primarily a political book and then personal (as if the two can ever be seperated). It is set around the time of Nkrumah's Ghana and tells through the livings of one man that power brings corruption. It tells through his observations that as great as our liberators were in freeing us, power and its first daughter wealth became to them a more attractive couple than the fighting of the powerless.
Ayi Kwei Armah delivers 'an uncomfortable human fable'. Read it.
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