Karen Blixen

The Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke was born Karen Dinesen in Denmark in 1885. Her father, diagnosed with syphilis, hanged himself when his daughter was nine; she herself was given syphilis by her husband, Baron Bror von Blixen-Finecke, a Swedish cousin whom she married, for convenience, after an unsuccessful affair with his brother. They separated in the eighth year of their marriage, and divorced four years later. Karen's friendship with Denys Finch-Hatton eventually developed, after her divorce, into what Wikipedia calls "a long-term love affair," with no result--Denys was killed in the crash of his biplane shortly before Karen was forced to leave Africa due to bankruptcy. While her syphilis was apparently cured, she suffered from ulcers, and was entirely unable to eat by the end of her life, when she died of malnutrition. She wrote in English for the most part, translating her works into Danish once they were finished, and eventually publishing simultaneously in both languages. Out of Africa was her second book, and her most popular work in English.

Out of Africa

The editors' preface to Out of Africa talks about both her view of Africa and her life. It speaks of her writing; of her love of Africa, the fact most immediately apparent from her writing; and her life itself. I was interested, first reading this, to hear of her other writing; and it amuses me that everyone assumed that Isak Dinesen was male, although indeed it is a male name, so perhaps the public is excused. It is disappointing but understandable that the Baroness never returned to Africa: it is true: it would not have been the same, it would have been uncomfortably, horribly changed. But through her writing, she can remember the old Africa, her Africa, and we can learn of it. I was also interested to learn about her husband, who is mentioned once, in a reference to the early years on the farm, and nowhere else. The preface tells that she married her cousin, and that the farm was a wedding gift from their family, that they were married for seven years, and when they divorced, she stayed on the farm. The husband is, in fact, a means for getting to the farm and, as far as the rest of us are concerned, not much else. It is difficult to discern how Dinesen felt about him: she speaks of him little and casually, mentioning "my husband" and passing on to what she was going to say. It is as though he were irrelevant--and perhaps, to this book, he is. 

Alan Moorhead's introduction speaks more of the quality of the writing than of the author herself. He talks of the style, impressed that the poetry of her phrases, a difficult thing to carry off even writing in one's native tongue, has endured the changing of tastes the way it has. He considers the quality of her view of Africa, wondering if this, a European work, will be accepted by the Africans as African literature. I think it certainly should be. He considers her as a person; not, however, in a biographical way, but an intellectual, speaking not of her life, but her mind. I think it's interesting that both introduction discuss her attitude to the natives: one of love, respect, and very clear seeing. She does not condescend, Moorehead says: she accepts them, as humans, giving them, most importantly, their dignity.  From here he goes on to speak of her way of bringing quotes to mind in the day-to-day occurrences of the farm. It's very typical of the well-educated great women writers of that period, but Moorehead sees it as a particular necessity for writing like this: applied education, seeing the country through the eyes of literature. I believe the phrase he used was "connecting it to the whole of human experience." He concludes with, again, the question of whether this work will be embraced by the Africans as their own, and answers it: yes. Probably.

Out of Africa

I've read four chapters today, but of them all, my favorite is "The Somali Women." Farah's wife, with her accompanying family, comprised most of Dinesen's female company on the farm, and it is clear she enjoyed them. Her description of them is clear and amusing; my favorite part is her metaphor of the marriage game as war, with the women, in spite of their status as goods, clearly ruling the men. My favorite line, as she describes how all the men's wealth goes to their women, is this: ".......when they should be conquering the conqueror, and extortionating the extortioner." The men may be masters, but their wives are their mistresses.

Out of Africa

"Wamai" tells of the long proceedings to determine the compensation for the children killed and wounded in the shooting accident, focusing on the boy who was killed. My favorite line, from her description of the taking down of Jogona's relation of the events of his adoption of one of the children killed, is a fine example of Dinesen's penchant for misquotation of Scripture: "Here was something which Jogona Kanyagga had performed, and which would preserve his name for ever: the flesh was made word and dwelt among us full of grace and truth." It's from John chapter one.

"Wanyangerri" is the continuation, dealing with the proceedings on the other side, for the wounded child; his time in hospital, the disputes over the compensation for his injury, and the solution of the problem. Also in this chapter she tells of what happened to the boy who fired the gun, Kabero; his sojourn with the Masai, and his eventual return to the farm. I think the most interesting part of this chapter is her description of the various tribes, the demographics, of Africa; the Arabs, the Somali, the Masai, and the Kikuyu--in that hierarchy. Her narration of the history there helps the reader understand the interactions of the groups throughout the book, and her metaphors are, as always, a delight.

Out of Africa

Lulu and The Shooting Accident

I love the way she describes Lulu the gazelle. Her queenly grace, succeeding the apparent fragility of her infanthood and the tumultuousness of her adolescence, is wonderfully described, demonstrating the poetic imagination of the writer.

The shooting accident, besides being a very sad story, is interesting for its illustration of the Natives' view of her. Especially amusing is her term for their use of certain white men as figures, symbols: brass-serpenting. Look upon the serpent, and you shall be healed, hm? Well, to a certain extent, it would seem so.

Out of Africa (chapter one and half of chapter two)

Isak Dinesen's love for her home shows clearly throughout her writing. She has nothing to say unfavorably; everything reflects her belief that it is the greatest place in the world to be. In the first chapter she describes the region and her farm, its size, its composition, its inhabitants. She describes the coffee plantation, describing the yearly rituals, resigned to--no, content with--the difficulty of making anything resembling a profit.

The second chapter tells the story of her doctoring of the natives, and the success of her varying results in continuing to bring them in. In particular she tells of a specific boy, Kamante, and his personality and trials.