The Smallest Woman in the World

“There she stood, then, the smallest woman in the world. For an instant, in the drone of the heat, it was as if the Frenchman had unexpectedly arrived at the last conclusion. Undoubtedly, it was only because he wasn’t insane, that his soul neither fainted nor lost control. Sensing an immediate need for order, and to give a name to whatever exists, he dubbed her Little Flower. And, in order to classify her among the recognizable realities, he quickly set about collecting data on her.”

The narrator uses irony to depict the exaggerated reaction that Marcel Pretre has on encountering a being whom he describes as “the smallest woman in the world.” Because he only sees her smallness, he focuses on the differences between himself and her. In addition, the French explorer naming the woman “Little Flower,” together with the act of collecting data, is a metaphor for anthropology’s early tendency to reduce complex individuals and cultures to measurable information, highlighting the dehumanizing nature of such classification.

“Aside from disease, infectious vapors from the waters, insufficient food and roving beasts, the greatest risk facing the scant Likoualas are the savage Bantus, a threat that surrounds them in the silent air as on the morning of battle. The Bantus hunt them with nets, as they do monkeys. And eat them. Just like that: they hunt them with nets and Eat them. That tiny race of people, always retreating and retreating, eventually took up residence in the heart of Africa, where the lucky explorer would discover them.”

The fact that the Likoualas are hunted and eaten by the Bantus is presented as a shocking detail in the notes of the French explorer. However, the cultural cannibalism that the explorer uses to photograph and present Little Flower’s image in the Sunday newspaper represents another kind of objectification. The use of an analogy between the Likoualas and animals being hunted reflects the racial stereotypes that inform the explorer’s view of the world he depicts.

“Right there was a woman the gluttony of the most exquisite dream could never have imagined. That was when the explorer declared, shyly and with a delicacy of feeling of which his wife would never have judged him capable: ‘You are Little Flower.’ At that moment Little Flower scratched herself where a person doesn’t scratch. The explorer—as if receiving the highest prize for chastity to which a man, who had always been so idealistic, dared aspire—the explorer, seasoned as he was, averted his eyes.”

The use of hyperbole and irony enhances the portrayal of the French explorer and his interactions with