REVIEW # 29: PIGS IN HEAVEN

Pigs in Heaven
By Barbara Kingsolver
Harper Collins Publishers, Inc., New York, 1993

ANOTHER FASCINATING STORY ABOUT CULTURE AND FAMILY RELATIONSHIPS FROM KINGSOLVER

After reading The Poisonwood Bible years ago, I was thrilled to pick up Pigs in Heaven, certain I would be enthralled by another book from this woman who is both a great observer of humanity and a masterful writer, especially when creating unique and powerful analogies such as her description of driving in the city, ‘mired in a flock of honking cars.’ In another instance, she deftly describes the ‘duckish, bobbing boats’ on the river, ‘with yellow bathtub rings on their bellies.’ And there is this: ‘The sun has dropped into the Nevada hills and rung up a sunset the color of cherries and lemons’ and, at the other end of the day, she speaks of ‘the pale orange morning that is taking hold around her.’ Or imagine this: Taylor rolls down the window and closes her eyes and lets the hissing night lick her face like a cat.’ Enough said. Reading Kingsolver is a more delicious treat than eating chocolate for an English teacher and poet like me. Yes, there are a few words that I never want to read, but only a few, so I just give that warning.

Alice and her daughter, Taylor, come from a long line of strong and independent women and there are others we meet from different generations as their life’s journey takes them to many new places in a desperate effort to avoid the unbearable thought of having her daughter taken away from her by the Cherokee Nation who are committed to bringing all Cherokee children up within the language, learning traditions and culture of their people. Taylor’s motherhood of Turtle began when she was thrust into her car one day by a woman who said the baby’s mother had died, whereupon she promptly disappeared after conferring ownership of this ragged bundle upon the startled Taylor. Here begins a complicated tale of the hard hustle of supporting a child badly damaged by abuse and dislocation who gradually responds to her new situation because of the patient love of her trainee mother. When Turtle comes to the attention of a whip-smart, young Cherokee lawyer with a passion for her people, Taylor feels her only choice is to disappear with her treasured daughter (who is seven when the reader meets her), in a desperate attempt to avoid the anguish of being separated from this child who had become grafted to her and whose loss would feel like the lopping off of a limb.

Thus begins Taylor’s long and aimless journey of hustling to make ends meet and to escape the law that could randomly rip her daughter from her . . . as randomly and bizarrely as it had thrust her into her horrified arms three years before. Kingsolver takes the reader on a journey also through the complexities of relationships at different ages between lovers and between adults and children. In different locations, she shows us the importance of community and the way that can be very different for different families. We become aware of the dislocating nature of being taken from your home, country and culture and the value of using common sense and sensitivity (rather than applying the letter of the law) to situations involving young children. It is never easy to make decisions about the best circumstances in which to raise a child. Kingsolver shows the reader that we can have a different idea completely about what knowledge is important and the way to pass on our knowledge so that the next generation feels strong and confident in themselves, their community and their nation. We are confronted with personal and historical decisions that have had lasting, negative consequences on individuals, their family relationships and communities.

I found these people fascinating, vulnerable, and so terribly human and a great reminder that we need each other and we need to talk through, and work through, our problems, rather than trying to fiercely solve them by ourselves. Above all, Barabara Kingsolver conveys a strong message that change and challenges in life are not to be feared, but faced. Together.