The use of voice is one of the most powerful weapons humans possess. Yet, too often, it is not used to its full potential and is instead neglected, used for harmful purposes, or silenced altogether. Voices are shaped over years and experiences, and evolve throughout life. Every individual has a unique and exclusive voice, and this self-expression can never be suppressed unless it is allowed to be. In her novel The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsovler explores this idea of ​​voice by writing a story told through the points of view of five different women. Through the lens of Orleanna, Rachel, Leah, Adah and Ruth May, the reader is able to better understand the intense and complex situation in the Congo at this time as it is presented through five different points of view. When the same story is told over and over again with different perspectives and filters, the reader is able to truly grasp the whole picture. Kingsolver's use and exploration of voice technique in The Poisonwood Bible allows him to create a complex novel with many layers, as his characters and their voices evolve throughout their time in the Congo and the beyond. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why violent video games should not be banned”? Get an original essayRather than writing the novel in the third person or in a singular first person narrative, “narrative point of view [ to five people] creates a field of reciprocal subjects, all crucial to the story but not exclusive or central. The heart of the novel emerges only by stacking multiple interpretations and discerning the similarities and differences that together shape a larger vision” (Ognibene 21). Kingsolver gives us not only the same story told through five different women, but also the same story told through five women with radically different world, political, and religious views. The “revealing narrative circle” of five women also offers a “feminist alternative to historical writing,” which, as Austenfeld indicates, is generally dominated by men (294). When asked why she went to the trouble of writing five different points of view, Kingsolver herself replied "because it was necessary for the theme of the novel" (author interview). At its core, the novel is a political allegory, and Kingsolver goes on to say that she wanted to analyze the full spectrum of attitudes to the same political situation, from "Orleanna's paralyzing guilt to the joyous 'What, I m 'worry ? » by Rachel » (Some Previous). Because each story is oriented toward the narrator speaking, the reader is able to fully understand a conflict of which they are not a part. This technique also provides a more humanistic approach to understanding a political situation that is typically depicted through television screens and evening news shows, rather than by a family in the middle of it. Kingsolver's novel is also complex because she uses five different female voices, but, within a few chapters, the reader is quickly able to distinguish the speaker and tell them apart. Kingsolver says this was one of the biggest challenges she faced and that she "spent almost a year perfecting the different voices" (author interview). This is evident throughout the novel as the reader differentiates between each of the distinct narrators. Rachel's voice is that of a teenager thrust into a life she didn't ask for amid the turbulence of the Congo. She is interested in “SweetSixteens” and her hair rather than the dangerous and complicated world she currently lives in. In this sense, it “best represents American material culture” (Ognibene 31). Although she seems far removed from her situation (often because of her own action), Rachel is incredibly perceptive and she "represents human relationships, material details, conversations, and emotions with great precision" (Austenfeld 295). As Elaine Ognibene succinctly writes: “Rachel sees the truth in the things that concern her” (31). Yet she often confuses her words, speaking with malapropisms, which, according to John Mullan, is the result of her "prissiness" (12). Similar to her older sister in her penchant for honesty, youngest sister Ruth May offers an unfiltered view of the world around her. her. Ruth May's naïve understanding of her family's situation is representative of the average American's attempts to understand the circumstances they witness from afar. She regurgitates everything she takes in and the reader is offered a "large sample of everything she sees, hears, smells, dreams and feels" (Austenfeld 296).2 Although her voice may seem small or insignificant compared to that of others, Ruth May's stories provide much-needed positive and childlike relief from the difficult world in which others live. As Ruth May focuses on playing with the other children and having fun being a five-year-old girl, the reader develops a fondness for her and is just as radically affected as the other four women in the novel when she is cruelly removed from the world. The two more in-depth and intellectual accounts of the Congo come from the twins, Leah and Adah. From their relationship – or attempts at a relationship – with their father to their physical appearance, these twins couldn't be more opposites. Leah is desperate for all kinds of knowledge and seeks it wherever she can find it. Leah learns quickly and eagerly and “often presents historical and cultural details and describes relationships and emotional connections” (Austenfeld 295-296). Steeped in the biblical teachings of her father that she desperately wants to obey, Leah's stories "combine biblical rhythm with ready-made clichés" (Mullan 12). Leah is also the only member of the Price family to use her voice to learn and speak the Kikango language and connect with the villagers. On the other side, Adah, who uses her voice the least. Although Adah “chooses silence, recognizing its advantages in certain circumstances,” when Adah addresses the reader, her words are twisty and intriguing (Ognibene 27). Her silence allows her to absorb and dissect the situations around her, and her "social marginalization by both society and her family, leaves her free to meditate on the wonders of the natural world, the absurdity of the world created by man and the currents of language, of biology”. , and political intrigues circulate around it” (Austenfeld 296). Adah, the “voiceless expert,” fills her pages with palindromes, rhymes, and poetry—her way of interpreting the world around her (Mullan 12). However, Adah's evolution is impressive since she ends up speaking out after leaving the Congo. Freed from her father's domination, further developing her skills and excelling, "Adah finds her voice in a language of self-definition and science" (Ognibene 29). Not only does Adah find her voice, she uses it to become an activist as she conducts medical research on AIDS and seeks some sort of forgiveness for her time in Africa and the destruction she believes she is responsible for. Orleanna Price also begins to seek forgiveness for the events in Congo, but as” (302).