I approached this novel with minimal knowledge about the history of the Congo or its people—an educational gap that I acknowledge is my responsibility to fill more thoroughly by delving into non-fiction works about the subject, rather than relying solely on a work of fiction by a white author. Nonetheless, it served as a good introduction to the topic.

I started this book on three separate occasions, each time setting it aside once I began Rachel’s narrative. I couldn’t tell if all the misused words were a serious publishing error or if the character was just…stupid, a truth I learned quickly once I was able to get into the book in earnest.

I could have read about the Price family forever. “The Poisonwood Bible” is lengthy and admittedly slow-moving, but Kingsolver’s writing is so vivid and gripping that I could have read 1000 pages of the same story.

Recently, I have read several books that, to me, underscore the dangerous world of religious fanaticism, especially concerning white men who, throughout history, have often assumed not only that their way is the best way but also the only way. Nathan Price illustrates the consequences of blending white supremacy with proselytization, resulting in a deafening ignorance. Many lower-star reviews appear to criticize Kingsolver for her anti-missionary narrative in "The Poisonwood Bible"; to those people, I would say that they seem to be missing the point entirely.

I thoroughly enjoyed experiencing this story through the perspectives of the five women of the Price family and observing how distinct each one was in their understanding and coping with their new surroundings. It served as an excellent testament to the diversity within the same family when you strip away the fabric of their upbringing. I found myself wanting to throttle Rachel throughout the entire novel, and the fact that her narrative style does not age or mature as she does only highlights the ignorance she harbors. Rachel was the capitalist, materialistic version of her father, good looks and pretty things were her gospel. While Adah’s perspective fascinated me, I resonated most with Leah’s character. Her constant struggle to find balance, harmony, and justice in all things is something I personally grapple with. Although Leah’s worldview was visually exceptionally black and white, she never quite seemed to be able to reconcile the fact that justice is gray and that waiting for bad things to happen to bad people and good things to happen to good people is no way to live, you’d die waiting. She held a baseline anger, even early on in the mission, about the seemingly unfair and unchangeable truths of the world.

This story discusses themes of education, colonization, racial tension, the role of women in society, consumerism, and much much more. Given my lack of education on the subject, I really cannot speak to the political events that underpin this novel, but I was fascinated and unsurprised by what I learned about the Congo and its relationship with white nationalists.

When I reached the end of their time in Kilonga and saw there were still over 100 pages left, I wondered what on earth we could still have to read about. However, I’m glad that Kingsolver gave us the opportunity to see how the Price family aged, how they transformed their upbringing to fit into their individual view of the world. Each daughter’s narrative (and Orleanna’s) felt so authentic to who the characters were, that I couldn’t have imagined them doing anything other than the endings Kingsolver wrote for them.