Don’t Let’s Go to the
Dogs Tonight:
Travelling through
Literature
By Stacie M. Kiner, Hagen Ranch Road Branch
“I had a farm in Africa … ,” begins Baroness Karen Blixen,
using the nom de plume, Isak Dinesen in her masterpiece, Out of Africa. Whether it’s Dinesen’s words or
Meryl Streep’s voice-over in the film, we know where we
are. We are in Africa. Years after Dinesen left she wrote, “I have a feeling that wherever I may be in the future, I
will be wondering whether there is rain in Ngong.”
 Isn’t this what travel writing affords us, glimpses into
other worlds, cultures, and even, ethereally, spirits?
Take Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible about
a missionary family that travels to the Congo while on the
brink of civil war. Although some family members attempt
to adapt, they begin to disintegrate in conjunction with
their surroundings; a civil war being played both within
and outside of their home.
Africa as viewed through the literary eye frequently proves
too much for any one person or family; the necessity for
adaptation too daunting in a continent so vast, so disparate.
Which brings us to Alexandra Fuller’s Don’t Let’s
Go to the Dogs Tonight. Fuller’s tale tells the story of
a childhood spent in war-torn colonial Rhodeshia (now
Zimbabwe), during the country’s 13-year civil war. Once
again, Fuller’s memoir portrays a country under siege,
battle lines drawn, and no matter what side you’re on, as
with all wars, you’re bound to be effected. However, for
those of us who travel, these stories inform why we do.
If you’re interested
in the location of
metro stops in Paris,
or a flamenco show in
Madrid; whether you
require actual travel
guides, or your interest
is geared more
toward fictionalized
accounts of exotic
travel ventures,
your questions can
be answered, and
books located, at your
Library. |
