OK, this made me laugh:
Quote:
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And now the rains had really come, so heavy and persistent that even the village rain-maker no longer claimed to be able to intervene. He could not stop the rain now, just as he would not attempt to start it in the heart of the dry eason, without serious danger to his own health. The personal dynamism required to counter the forces of these extremes of weather would be far too great for the human frame.
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That said, it's an example of the issue I'm struggling with. At the opening of the book, I found the prose beautiful and lyrical and evocative, but now I'm catching a whiff of condescension. Jury's still out. Clearly this will involve issues of colonialism, cultural imperialism and language.
I'll add that this book has been on my "Have to get to that" list for a long time, so I was very pleased when the club picked it.