Autumn Stevens

Queen Curmano
3 November 2014
Freshman English Honors
I pictured myself as a ghost: bones and teeth.
Rachel a ghost with long white hair; Adah a
silent, staring ghost. Ruth May a tree-climbing
ghost, the squeeze of a small hand on your
arm. My father was not a ghost; he was God
with his back turned, hands clasped behind
him and fierce eyes on the clouds. God had
turned his back and was walking away (310).

Leahs reflection of this large rising-action

event is most interesting. She is aware of each
of her family members in a way that she
wasnt previously. The idea of ghosts for each
of her family members is one of curiosity;
why them ghosts and the reverend God?
Wouldnt God want to save the ghosts? Are
the ghosts going to Heaven? Tricky
metaphor

But my tongue only licked the back of my

teeth tasting the word everything. I stared at
the edge of the clearing behind us where the
jungle closed us out with its great green walls
of trees, bird calls, animals breathing all as
permanent as a heartbeat we heard in our
sleep. Surrounding us was a thick, wet living
stand of trees and tall grasses stretching all the
way across Congo. And we were nothing but
little mice squirming through it in our dark
little pathways. In Congo, it seems the land
owns the people. How could I explain to
Anatole about soybean fields where men sat in
huge tractors like kings on thrones taming the
soil from one horizon to another? It seems like
a memory trick or a blue green dream:
impossible (283).

This is my favorite quote in the book so far.

The imagery that Leah illustrates is both
beautiful and vehement. The idea that the
Congo owns them is an epiphany of hers that
(1) I didnt see coming and (2) absolutely
love. Its not so much that this quote is
pivotal but more so it is as true as the truth
can be (287). The wording and beauty
behind her passionate thoughts in this phrase
is one that I relate to in a concealed way.
(*heart*) Im having issues explaining my
relation to this

Tata jesus is Bangala! declares the

Reverend every Sunday at the end of his
sermon Bangala means something precious
and dear. But the way he pronounces it, it
means the poisonwood tree (276).

I see this as a metaphorical statement it

relates to the title so much that its hard not to
miss. Why in the world would these two
meanings be associated in the first place?
This will remain in my mind for the duration
of the story.

Kingsolver, Barbara. The Poisonwood Bible: A Novel. New York: HarperPerennial, 1999. Print