The chosen place is Bourneville, a remote, devastated part of a Carribean island; the timeless people are its inhabitants -- black, poor, inextricably linked to their past enslavement. The advance team for an ambitious American research project arrives, and the tense ambivalent relationships that evolve -- between natives and foreigners, blacks and whites, haves and have-nots -- keenly dramatize the vicissitudes of power.
Paule Marshall was an American writer, best known for her 1959 debut novel Brown Girl, Brownstones.
Marshall was educated at Brooklyn College (1953) and Hunter College (1955). She taught at Virginia Commonwealth University, the University of California, Berkeley, the Iowa Writers' Workshop, and Yale University before holding the Helen Gould Sheppard Chair of Literature and Culture at New York University. In 1993 she received an honorary L.H.D. from Bates College. She was a MacArthur Fellow anda past winner of the Dos Passos Prize for Literature. In 2009, She received the Anisfield-Wolf Lifetime Achievement Award.
This book was a lot of work, but I love Paule Marshall, and I was determined to get through it. In the end, it was worth it - especially for those who want a richer perspective of the late 20th century Black Atlantic, and one from a woman's point of view in particular. Also a fascinating look at the power dynamics involved with ethnographic fieldwork. This would be a great companion piece to some of Hurston's work on the subject.
Really glad I held out and finished this on my vacation. Moving, extremely well written, no characters are left undeveloped. A good book to read while reading Traces of the Trade (the book). Slavery just took on a new face.
It took me 2 months to get through this book -- it was OK but not great. I appreciated it as a critique of anthropologists and outside-directed development schemes, but otherwise didn't enjoy it that much.
This is one of the most beautiful novels I've ever read. Paule Marshall is a writer's writer. I've always thought she didn't get as much "play" as she should.
This book haunted me for some time after I read it.
It is a good comment on anthropology, good depiction of complex human relationships. It shows the impact of history on a culture, and the impossibility of change we might see in many places.
The Chosen Place, The Timeless People is a 472 page book which surely has a higher word count than similar length books. In other words, it's very dense, and for that reason is one of those books you cannot fly through any more than an anthropologist can stay in Bourne Island for a few days before jetting off like a tourist. You have to move in. Or maybe the book "moves in" to you; it certainly takes up a lot of your mental space while you read it.
My initial impressions were very positive, but the writing suffered from a lot of info-dumping. This was Marshall's second novel and first with so many POV characters, and for the first 100+ pages, she tirelessly introduces them all with expansive backstories, and that includes the main "character"--Bourne Island and the neighborhood Bournehills. The info-dumping is a bit amateurish, but Marshall's writing is simply so beautiful and the characters so vivid, I was willing to forgive it. The island and its occupants all come to life. After the first 100 pages, the book settles into a comfortable rhythm, with only occasional info dumps. This is easily the best part of the book.
To make a slight detour, I want to talk about Marshall's style. In interviews, Marshall defended the "traditional novel," by which she means literary realism, a relic of the Victorian Era that was long considered passé in literary circles by the 1960s. In the later Victorian Era, the form evolved into psychological realism, which focuses on the characters' psychology.
I was surprised that this novel was so heavy on psychological realism. Her first, Brown Girl, Brownstones was not. Each character is introduced not only as a person, but a psychological profile--part of what makes them so compelling. Initially I was pleased by this aspect of the novel. The characters' depth and relationships create the perfect opportunity to explore the impacts of colonialism and white supremacy.
But after a certain point, Marshall takes a stylistic swerve away from English-language psychological realism and starts writing like Dostoevsky... on steroids. Starting with Part Three, Carnival, the rich character study devolves into nearly nonstop mental breakdowns, violence, death, adultery, etc. One character even has a "Raskolnikov moment" (). Since Marshall wrote the book over a five-year period, it feels like she left off after Part Two and began writing Part Three some time later, in a different style. The shift is abrupt and jarring, and even more, once the onslaught starts, it never stops. It's neurosis and drama until the bitter end. The parts that aren't detailed depictions of people's neuroses read like a soap opera.
Normally, saying something is "like Dostoevsky" is a compliment, but not this time. Marshall saturates the book so much in second-rate Dostoevsky-ness that her strengths get lost in the mess. You don't need drama to keep a narrative interesting; more than anything, it distracts. It's hard not to feel like the narrative core, about the dynamic between anthropologists and the peoples they work with, is lost. There is constant monologuing by the characters (another hint she was influenced by Dostoevsky), which is contrived, overlong, and the revelations feel unearned. The social commentary is heavy-handed and clunky. I'm usually the one defending "depressing" books with complex characters, but sometimes less is more. Not every character needs a contrived, tragic backstory and some kind of neurosis. Otherwise the reader becomes numb to it after a while.
To wrap up the book, Marshall falls back on some silly Victorian plotting. She props it up with social commentary, but it's not very convincing. A soap opera plot is a soap opera plot, even if you put window dressing on it.
So, let's just say, I'm disappointed. For the first half of the book I couldn't have imagined giving it fewer than four stars. I thought it might dethrone Brown Girl, Brownstones for my favorite Paule Marshall novel. I was ready to write that this was a lost 20th century classic. Now I feel like the book ended halfway through, and the rest belongs in another book entirely. It's like one of those TV shows where they kept ramping up the drama in later seasons to keep up ratings, so the show became a cartoon of itself. Very sad indeed. I can only give it three stars, and that's on account of the first two parts. It's the most frustrating reading experience I've had in a long time.
A few months ago Steve Almond had an insightful essay in the “Riff” section of the NYT Magazine about contemporary writers’ fear of a narration in fiction. For Almond, it’s a fear of something merely passing for an all-encompassing narrative, which can never be possible. Almond’s riff seems a tired one, didn’t this start with the appearance of le nouvel roman in the 1950s (not to mention what early readers made of Tristam Shandy). Given the tremendous popularity of genre fiction at the moment, which is primarily characterized by its adherence to story, it is safe to say that many readers still have room for narration. I believe we have more than enough room for all kinds of writing on our lists, shelves, and devices. Plus, there are plenty of gems that have not gotten the readership they deserve. If you are in the mood for good story, then I always recommend this under-read Paule Marshall novel. It is set on Bourne Island, a fictional setting for this exploration of the vicissitudes of power. The novel follows a group of American researchers and island’s residents trying to decide on the best development project to ignite the economy and modernize the island. That all-too familiar plot becomes one of the novel’s best features because it will unfold in all the ways you expect, so you can focus on what matters most here: the characterization of the place, the people, and the human interaction.
I wanted to read this book because I found another of her books, "Praise Song for the Widow," to be powerfully meaningful. I loved reading this book, too. Marshall's descriptions of places and people are wonderful, insightful, evocative - a pure pleasure to read. Her treatment of the impact of racism both on the oppressed and the oppressor, the black and the white, is better than any I have ever read. It is a perfect example of the power of fiction because it brings the reader closer to the actual experience of the people involved. Marshall's books are among a very few that I would gladly read over and return to frequently due to her masterful understanding and portrayal of human experience, motivation, and strength in suffering.
Written in the '60s, this novel portrays Americans sociologists who descend on a Caribbean island bent on lifting the natives out of their poverty and backwardness. I think Ms. Marshall was a Caribbean native, so that tells you right there who the good guys are going to be. The pace ambles along as slow as a steamy tropical afternoon. I read it with a detached feeling until, far into the story, a couple of the them reveal the forces that drive them.
One of the weirdnesses of the book is all the African people living in towns with very British names.
Cow patties? Mostly a few whiffs, but one of 'em is long and uncomfortable and on the Brokeback-Mountain side of things.
Very slow start but well worth the effort. Has a beautiful logic and flow, captivating characters that become only better more complicated versions of themselves as the story progresses Deep and full of radicalism - especially in the ways it creates coexistence with subtlety and honesty across and among races. That might be rambly as it is 2:30 a.m.
This book has a lot of good things going for it: interesting, deep characters beautiful imagery and language deep insight into a different way of life
But I can't rate it highly just because I had such a hard time reading it. It was very slow-paced with many difficult, sad moments and not many happy moments. I found it too unrelentingly depressing and very long.
Much of this story was already familiar to me because I read her memoir first. Paule Marshall is my first pick for Black history month and well worth the effort. She tells a story that is timeless, adultery, yet fresh, the people of the fictional island of Boure.
This took quite a long time for me to read, mainly because there is just so much description and overwrought language. I found myself midway through wondering when there would be any action. Things pick up in the last third, but they tend more towards soap opera moments of dramatic arguments and spells of complete catatonia.
There's a persistent characterization of Bourne Island and the neighborhood of Bournehills in particular as enigmatically stubborn in its ways, with the story of a slave revolt led by Cuffee Ned repeated throughout the narrative by different characters. The attempt to actualize and process the psychic trauma of colonization in some ways stands in contrast and sometimes is a parallel to the consensual interracial liaisons that are more tolerated on the island than in the U.S. I appreciate being prompted to think about this but also wish there hadn't been so much else getting in the way.
Synopsis for my own sake: The novel takes place on the fictional Caribbean island Bourne Island and primarily follows Saul, a Jewish social scientist who is drawn to field work and aspires to actually make a difference with the development projects he works on. His WASPy wife Harriet is driven by her need to mold the careers of her husbands, the first being a a renowned nuclear scientist at the time of their divorce. Aiding Saul is Allen, a shy young man who has had repeat trips to Bourne Island (and who, we come to discover, is in love with Vere). Merle, a talkative woman who rents out space to Saul and Harriet, becomes close to Saul over the course of the novel. Her cousin Vere returns to Bourne Island with a mission to restore and race his own car, which eventually leads to his death. Also among the cast of characters is Lyle Hutton, a relative of Merle who represents the cultured elite of the island, and workers at the sugar cane factory.
The climax of the novel comes with carnival, when Merle divulges a backstory involving a sugar mommy in England and a husband who cut her off from her daughter after he learns of the patronage. This revelation is the spark for Merle and Saul's affair, even though she places less stock in the relationship than he does. Meanwhile the chaos of carnival and living on Bourne Island drives Harriet to her breaking point. Once Lyle inadvertently reveals the affair to her, she maneuvers for Saul to get a desk job in the United States, which in turn prompts Saul to declare their relationship over. Harriet drowns in ambiguous circumstances and Merle and Saul part ways, the former going to attempt to contact her husband and child in Uganda and Saul returning back to the United States with no plans of returning to Bourne Island.
So.Tedious. I skipped about half of the middle and still got the contours of the futility the author wanted to convey.
It’s set in a formerly English colony, but the playbooks is the same as Haiti.
The white saviors were told nothing changes in Bournehills. It was mostly true. Nothing changes for the locals but the white saviors’ lives irrevocably change before they go home.
Boring with too much minutia and bleak.
It’s done. That’s the nicest thing I can say & now I can move on.
Exquisitely beautiful prose and excellent narrative point of view. The only down side to the prose is that it made it hard to read very fast, as every sentence contained so much.
White supremacy is a big and ancient scheme. This novel does such a good job taking it out of the American context, while also reminding the reader how much white supremacy is reinforced by American imperialism. Even if that imperialism wears the face of an anthropologist...
This is an amazing book! A work of art in fiction published in 1969 but still relevant to today. I feel that each character represents larger forces in the world - from the Jewish anthropologist and his upper class wife controlling foundation funds to the working people on the island and the powerful Black Caribbean woman, Merle.
A bit dated in terms of it's portrayal of homosexuality (not that it's homophobic so much as it employs tropes that would now be considered cliche and overused), but it is a very nuanced and sensitive look at race, colorism and class. Well worth the read.
One of my all-time favorites. I think it is about Haiti, or an island a lot like Haiti. And this is a novel that shows how "helping" or aid organizations more often than not do not help-- they damage. Beautifully written, funny and heartbreaking.
This is one of the most amazing books I've ever read and I want to share it as much as possible. It is the perfect example of what the realist novel can do.