For Cabo Verde, I read Chiquino: A Novel of Cabo Verde by Balthazar Lopes, translated into English by Isabel P.B. Fêo Rodrigues and Carlos A. Almeida with Anna M. Klobucka. I actually wrote a post about why I chose this book, probably thinking I would create a blogging record of how and why I chose all the books for the C’s (and then D-Z). What a noble aspiration! Too bad I didn’t follow through with that plan for the rest of the C’s…

Anyway, back to Chiquino. I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The novel has a three act structure, starting with the protagonist’s childhood on a rural island, continuing with his education on the more populous island of São Vicente, and finally his return to his home island as drought and famine strike the archipelago. The writing style is lyrical, and I was not surprised to learn the author was also a poet.

During the novel’s middle act, the protagonist is friends with an intellectual group of students who decide to start a revolutionary newspaper. In the context of heated discussions about what they should write for the newspaper, Lopes says:

We need to write things that could be written in Cabo Verde, that couldn’t be written, for instance, in Patagonia. We don’t care about Scandinavia and its fjords. We are interested in the coal men on the docks of São Vicente, who have been unemployed for far too long.

Chiquino, Baltazar lopes, pg. 87.

That is exactly what Lopes did in this novel. He wrote a book that could only be written in Cabo Verde, exploring the themes and issues that were important to its people and capturing the life of its people during the first quarter of the twentieth century. He brought to life the geography, smells, and weather of the archipelago; the local lore and folktales of witches and mermaids; and the struggle to earn a living. Throughout the story, Lopes imparted “the Creole longing for the islands and their people.” Id. at 56

The novel felt languid, but when I was done, I felt as if I had spent a semester abroad in Cabo Verde. I also came away with a deep appreciation for the dilemma that Cabo Verdeans faced during the early twentieth century. They wanted to stay home with their families and land, but if they did not emigrate to America or join a whaling ship, their opportunities to make money were few and far between. Lopes says its much better than I can:

Going to America meant the same thing to him as it did to other young men who left the hoe behind to embrace the great adventure. The emigrant experience in North America was the defining moment of their lives. And all of them were leveled by the mills, which reduced to nothing the intellectual distinction they had carried with them from the islands. But the health of his lungs was the most effective ally of that Creole nostalgia that irresistibly pulls them back to the archipelago any son of the island, no matter how deeply accustomed to the pace of American life.

Id. at 163.

It’s books like Chiquinho that remind me why I started my Read Around the World quest. I’d recommend it to anyone who wants to break out of their Western reading bubble.