Chinua Achebe is a great storyteller. He beautifully translates the Igbo way of life and communicates the mannerisms of the Igbo language, which although the character of the District Commissioner is infuriated by 'their love of superfluous words', it really is quite beautiful to read. Achebe writes in short sentences that some might describe at staccato, but is a fitting medium to communicate a multi-layered story that critiques colonialism as well as some aspects of traditional Igbo society. We are also left with unforgettable phrases and sentences that imprint themselves on the mind; 'war of blame', 'Men of today have learnt to shoot without missing so [the bird has] learnt to fly without perching.', '[The white man] has put a knife on the things that held us together, and we have fallen apart.', amongst many others.

The book is tragic story, but not a melodramatic one. Chinua Achebe writes as one recalling personal testimony, it is nuanced, and delicate but matter-of-fact in it's literary presentation. It is the story of a man whose strength was self-realised, but ultimately so was his downfall, and it provides a well of understanding for those of us who wonder about the pre-colonial stories of our people. Despite the personal weaknesses of the characters, Achebe endows them with a dignity that wasn't widely seen in tribal characters in literature written about Africa at the time, and despite his demise you can't help but want to raise a glass of palm wine for Okonkwo, who was 'well known throughout the nine villages and even beyond.'