It's me. I know it's me. Everyone else says this book is a classic. I don't see that. Maybe, I'm just too stupid to understand. Anyway, take it for whatever it's worth. Here's my take on Alan Paton's Too Late the Phalarope.
Too Late the Phalarope, by
Alan Paton is an English teacher’s dream book.
Any teacher of literature would examine the complex society of Apartheid
South Africa, the rigid culture mores, the main character’s humanity, and
appreciate the beautiful descriptions of the country, and the moral dilemmas
the plot purposes.
That being said, most students will hate this
book. I also found it painful to
read. Try as I might, I could not
identify with any characters. I didn’t
know what they were talking about, most of the time. The narration is convoluted. A quarter of the way into the novel, I forced
myself to begin again, because I was so confused. I didn’t know who the narrator was. Sometimes it was Pieter van Vlaanderen’s
aunt. Sometimes it was his journal. Then
again, was it Pieter’s stream of consciousness?
The story begins with Pieter, an Afrikaner
policeman. His chosen persona is “stiff
upper lip”, high moral standards, and a “rules are rules”, type of person. However, good people sometimes do bad things,
and he did. (Spoiler Alert) He rapes
Stephanie. A white man having sex with a
black, at that time was not permitted.
Pieter is also married, so he’s breaking his marital vows, besides the
country’s law. Paton doesn’t mention the
verb, rape. It was clear, Pieter a white
male had sexual intercourse with a black woman.
Since blacks were held in a subservient position, I call it rape. His father is so upset, he disowns
Pieter. In effect, Pieter has broken
more than the law. He has destroyed his
own family.
What I did enjoy in the novel, was Pieter’s
turmoil with his conscience. The poor
man was twisting himself in spiritual, mental, and emotional knots. At first, Pieter thought everyone knew his
sinful deed. When nothing happened the
relief he felt was palpable. It was
short lived, however. Pieter fails
everyone who was dear to him, and everything that was important to him. He is
exposed, arrested, and guilty. The emotional and mental anguish was an
excellent description of human soul wrenching.
This was a redeeming feature of Paton’s writing and story.
I just could not identify with the characters,
however. I felt sorry for Pieter, but
his life was so unreal to me that my sympathy was not empathetic. The culture was so foreign it was
unbelievable. The extreme segregation
was out of my frame of reference. The father’s reaction was beyond
understanding. What about Pieter’s wife
and children? I just didn’t get it, so I didn’t like it. The language itself was awkward. I found the entire book too difficult to
read. I had to force myself to finish
it.
The title, Too Late The Phalarope, is further
proof that this book is a difficult read.
From the story, the reader learns that a phalarope is a South African
bird. But what the title, “Too Late the
Phalarope,” means, is a mystery. I even
googled and researched. I don’t have the
slightest clue what the title means, which is indicative of my critique of Alan
Paton’s Too Late the Phalarope.
