Re-reading after some years: Shadows on the Grass, published in the '60s (Penguin). The portrait on the cover is an oil painting by Blixen, of a Somali child, one of her servants in Kenya. Realising he was a mathematical genius, she 'scraped the money together' to send him to school. When he asked for a typewriter, she bought it for him. Many years later, he wrote to thank her, explaining that the typewriter gave him a significant advantage when he applied for jobs. He became a judge.
Blixen wrote in English, a foreign language. Do writers whose mother tongue is not English experience more freedom to write in unusual ways? (I'm thinking for instance of the Pakistani/British writer Nadeem Aslam.)
The two sentences I most loved:
The first for the way the structure represents Berkeley Cole's leisurely, round-about journey:
"On a day in the beginning of the long rains Berkeley Cole came round the farm from up-country, on his way to Nairobi." (p. 69, The Great Gesture).
Also, for being thought-provoking:
"A gift may be named after both the giver and the receiver, and in this way my inspiration is my own, more even than anything else I possess, and is still the gift of God." (p. 96, Echoes from the Hills).
All along this book, I heard in my mind the deep longing in Meryl Streep's voice in the film about Blixen in Kenya Out of Africa: "I had a farm in Africa..."
I've just read Penelope Lively's How it all started, about the unexpected ways in which a person's action can affect others. I found it clumsy and uncharming in comparison.
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I've just edited this post. Today is 2 June 2025. Since the original post, I completed a second writing course (1 year) and published a book. The publisher made me rewrite the book twice. I learnt a lot.
