|
Literary Review
FRANKLY SPEAKING
Roots that sustain
ANUPAMA R.
|
Africa is a huge presence in his fiction and poetry, says Alain Mabanckou, who hails from Congo Brazzaville.
|
Master of gentle irony: Alain Mabanckou.
The tree remembers this legend
A tomb
A cross
and a cloud of silence
since.
To me, Alain Mabanckou is like this tree he has evoked in his poetry: Tall, graceful, peaceful, yet a powerhouse of ideas. One of the foremost voices in Francophone literature, this poet-novelist from Congo Brazzaville has always drawn from his African roots.
Africa is a telling presence in his fiction and poetry. And like most writers living away from their native lands, Mabanckou harks back to his roots as often as he can. Yet, there is no sentimental outpour.
Underlying criticism
In much of his work, there is an underlying tone of criticism — of Africa — which he masks using his trademark techniques. “It is true that Africa is always my subject of predilection, but I don’t want it to be a brutal attack, which is why I use irony, satire and parody, to transform things which may be difficult to digest,” explains Mabanckou, who was in India on a French Embassy-sponsored tour.
This way, he attempts to show another Africa, another face of African literature, he adds. Language is one of the main tools he uses in this endeavour. In African Psycho (2007, Soft Skill Publishers) — a more intense take on Bret Easton Ellis’s infamous American Psycho — Mabanckou takes us to the mind of a psycho through the streets of Congo.
The novel is a delight due to its innovative and witty use of words as Mabanckou playfully creates a sub-language. Grégoire Nakobomayo, the protagonist, lives in a neighbourhood called He-who-drinks-water-is-an-idiot. Then there is a local band called The-Same-People-Always-Get-To-Eat-In-This-Shitty-Country, a street named One-Hundred-Francs-Only and a cemetery of The-Dead-Who- Are-Not-Allowed- To-Sleep. Mabanckou attributes this “verbal diarrhoea” to his need to recreate Congo, the street language spoken by the Congolese. “I try to put in the references and the vulgarities into a novel so that the readers feel the inner intensity,” he explains. Apparently, in many African bars customers are discouraged from drinking water as it is often more expensive than a bottle of wine. The neighbourhood in African Psycho is thus a reference to a popular Congolese ditty about idiots who drink water.
However, the novel is not just about skilful language. Following the twisted and scary alleys of the protagonist’s mind, it’s easy to start sympathising with the “psycho”. He rises above the confines of the typical psychopath to emerge as a tragic hero — always aspiring, never achieving. Mabanckou achieves this through the well-controlled and intense monologue. As Mabanckou says, “We even start to wish: If only he were to commit a crime so that he achieves something!”
Different theme
It is the same skill that comes through in Memoires de Porc-epic (2006) — Memories of a Porcupine — which won Mabanckou the coveted Prix Renaudot. The novel takes us away from a psycho to the complex Man-Animal relationship. It is a harking back to African customs and traditions, no doubt.
“The Congolese believe animals are our ancestors and that we have to respect them… An animal is never a nuisance; an animal, even a lion or a snake, is born good, but we humans make them into a nuisance,” says Mabanckou. A view he portrays in the award-winning novel, slated to be translated into English this year.
But to understand the man better, we need to read his poetry. So, is there a difference between Mabanckou the poet and Mabanckou the novelist? Laughing in response, he says, “When I write poetry, I feel like I’m visiting my secret chamber; when I write a novel, it’s like I’m on the road and everyone can see me. If you want to know me better, you must go to my poems.”
Multiple forms
It’s difficult to prefer one form over the other as Mabanckou is what he terms a “hermaphrodite” — at times masculine and at others, feminine. Poetry is, thus, his feminine self and the novel, masculine. Influenced a great deal by Japanese forms of poetry, Mabanckou’s verse is crisp and powerful. We also sense the overwhelming presence of the oral traditions of his native Linhala language.
Now teaching at UCLA, United States, Mabanckou is witness to the increasing curiosity about Francophone literature and Africa among the student community. It’s easy to imagine, thus, the popularity this versatile writer enjoys both in the Francophone and the Anglophone worlds.
It is also a happy coincidence that over the last few years, Francophone writers have been winning most of the major French literary awards. As Mabanckou says, “We’re now witness to an opening of doors to Francophone literature.”
At the same time, being Francophone is not a qualification in itself. “The public doesn’t look at the nationality of a writer. They want to read a good book,” he clarifies.
The bright eyes and gentle voice tell me he would be writing “good books” for a long time. And we’ll wait for the next one.
Printer friendly
page
Send this article to Friends by
E-Mail
Literary Review
|
