The Debut-Running the Rift, Naomi Benaron
RSSAngela Carstensen
At the center of her first novel is Jean Patrick Nkuba, a young man who has grown up in Rwanda and dreamt of representing his beloved country in the Olympics. He's well on his way to achieving his goal when politics and violence disrupt his life and the lives of everyone around him. This combination survival and coming-of-age story has been awarded the Bellwether Prize, which recognizes works of fiction that address issues of social justice. As an American woman, what inspired you to write a novel about a boy growing up in Rwanda? I suppose it started with the original inspiration for the novel, which was watching Eric Moussambani, a young man from Equatorial Guinea, struggle through the wildcard heat of the 100 meter freestyle at the 2000 Olympics. He had never before swum in a 25-yard pool, let alone a 50-meter pool, and his perseverance deeply touched me. I kept the story in my heart—it was before I had reconnected with my writing self—and then, when I did start writing again, that idea morphed into a novel seed that morphed into Running the Rift. So the idea for a male African protagonist was ingrained from the start. Jean Patrick's willingness to train his body, mind, and soul is the key to his survival, as is the recognition that his success brings him. Why did you decide to make him an athlete and, in particular, a superb runner? I was a triathlete for many years, and the competitive aspect of the sport was always important to me. Before I was a triathlete, I was a runner, and of the three sports (running, biking, swimming) running is my truest love. Running transcends cultural differences, as does the exquisite pain and joy of pushing mind, body, and spirit beyond where you think they can go. By making Jean Patrick a runner, I knew I could understand his soul and his mind. I think, too, running is an essential metaphor in the book on many levels. Jean Patrick is running toward his future, but he is also running away from politics and the implications of what those politics mean in Rwanda in the early '90s, and then, of course, he will literally have to run for his life. Despite the losses that Patrick suffers, he never gives up hope. That's one way in which you were able to create such a beautiful story without shying away from the horrific events in Rwanda. How else did you manage to make the novel so compelling? From the moment I first saw Rwanda through the window of the plane as we descended in the mist toward Kigali, I was struck by the beauty of the country. Rwanda is such an easy place to fall in love with, but of course that love must by its very nature be entangled with the complexity and pain of her history. So this painful beauty was important for me to convey, both in terms of setting and in terms of the language of the novel. As a model, I often look to Anne Michaels, who wrote Fugitive Pieces, one of the most compelling Holocaust novels I have ever read. In the novel, she says, "Find a way to make beauty necessary; find a way to make necessity beautiful." Even within the horror of the events, I think prose can have a way of inserting the smallest shimmering thread of beauty. At least that's what I aim for. Jean Patrick struggles when he realizes that loyalty to his Tutsi heritage will threaten his chances to reach the Olympic Games, and especially when his coach offers him a Hutu ID card. Loyalty and family are important themes in your novel. What other significant themes did you want to convey? On a philosophical and political level, I would say that one theme is the universality of genocide. I wanted the reader to come away with the understanding that genocide can happen anywhere but that we, as a people, can work to eradicate it by recognizing the symptoms. I want the thought to stir in people's minds, "Hmm—isn't that happening here? Don't I see that kind of xenophobia and "othering" injecting itself into hate talk on the radio?" On a personal level, there is the strength of will that stubbornness and perseverance begets. Thankfully, I have never had to live through what my characters lived through, but I imagine that strength of will tips the odds in favor of survival. Of course, that's not all, and many strong-willed people die in any episode of genocide, but I've always been interested in what accounts for survival under the worst of conditions. I also wanted geology to run as an undercurrent through the novel, because the tectonics of rifting is such a chilling metaphor for what's happening in the political plane. And, of course, there's the theme of hope. It keeps us going, doesn't it? One foot in front of the other. Congratulations on winning the Bellwether Prize for Running the Rift! What does winning the award mean to you? Running the Rift will be published on January 3, 2012. Please check back on that day to read the review on SLJ's "Adult Books 4 Teens" blog. This article originally appeared in School Library Journal's enewsletter SLJTeen. Subscribe here.
In Running the Rift, Naomi Benaron folds two of her abiding passions—Rwanda and running—into an enlightening, satisfying story that's set in the 1980s and '90s, during a time of terrible ethnic unrest in the East African nation.
Thank you! I first heard about the Bellwether Prize from my original fiction mentor, Meg Files. As soon as she explained to me that it was offered by Barbara Kingsolver (I have been a big fan of hers for years) and that it was for a novel that addressed themes of social justice, I knew that I wanted to win it. When I got that phone call from Barbara Kingsolver, I jumped out of my chair and screamed. In some ways, I still haven't come down. It remains one of the most important moments of my life, and I cannot begin to express how grateful I am. Truthfully, I don't know if my novel would have ever been published if it weren't for winning the Bellwether. I'm hoping that in terms of my novel's future in this world, it will be a two-way street. The prize will always shine a light on my novel. I can only hope that someday, my novel will be able to shine a light back on the Bellwether Prize.
