What do you think?
Rate this book
Ségou #1
Segu
The bestselling epic novel of family, treachery, rivalry, religious fervour and the turbulent fate of a royal African dynasty
It is 1797 and the African kingdom of Segu, born of blood and violence, is at the height of its power. Yet Dousika Traore, the king's most trusted advisor, feels nothing but dread. Change is coming. From the East, a new religion, Islam. From the West, the slave trade. These forces will tear his country, his village and the lives of his beloved sons apart, in Maryse Condé's glittering epic.
'Rich and colorful and glorious. It sprawls over continents and centuries to find its way into the reader's heart' - Maya Angelou
'A stunning reaffirmation of Africa and its peoples... It's a starburst' - John A. Williams
It is 1797 and the African kingdom of Segu, born of blood and violence, is at the height of its power. Yet Dousika Traore, the king's most trusted advisor, feels nothing but dread. Change is coming. From the East, a new religion, Islam. From the West, the slave trade. These forces will tear his country, his village and the lives of his beloved sons apart, in Maryse Condé's glittering epic.
'Rich and colorful and glorious. It sprawls over continents and centuries to find its way into the reader's heart' - Maya Angelou
'A stunning reaffirmation of Africa and its peoples... It's a starburst' - John A. Williams
512 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1984
About the author
Maryse Condé
75 books971 followersMaryse Condé was a Guadeloupean, French language author of historical fiction, best known for her novel Segu. Maryse Condé was born as Maryse Boucolon at Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe, the youngest of eight children. In 1953, her parents sent her to study at Lycée Fénelon and Sorbonne in Paris, where she majored in English. In 1959, she married Mamadou Condé, an Guinean actor. After graduating, she taught in Guinea, Ghana, and Senegal. In 1981, she divorced, but the following year married Richard Philcox, English language translator of most of her novels.
Condé's novels explore racial, gender, and cultural issues in a variety of historical eras and locales, including the Salem witch trials in I, Tituba: Black Witch of Salem and the 19th century Bambara Empire of Mali in Segu.
In addition to her writings, Condé had a distinguished academic career. In 2004 she retired from Columbia University as Professor Emeritus of French. She had previously taught at the University of California, Berkeley, UCLA, the Sorbonne, The University of Virginia, and the University of Nanterre.
In March 2007, Condé was the keynote speaker at Franklin College Switzerland's Caribbean Unbound III conference, in Lugano, Switzerland.
Condé's novels explore racial, gender, and cultural issues in a variety of historical eras and locales, including the Salem witch trials in I, Tituba: Black Witch of Salem and the 19th century Bambara Empire of Mali in Segu.
In addition to her writings, Condé had a distinguished academic career. In 2004 she retired from Columbia University as Professor Emeritus of French. She had previously taught at the University of California, Berkeley, UCLA, the Sorbonne, The University of Virginia, and the University of Nanterre.
In March 2007, Condé was the keynote speaker at Franklin College Switzerland's Caribbean Unbound III conference, in Lugano, Switzerland.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 299 reviews
July 28, 2014
An 80s rape-fest
This is my book from Mali for my world books challenge, and I looked forward to reading it, because you don't find much historical fiction set in pre-colonial Africa. Too bad it reads like it was competing with the instigators of Gamergate for some maximum misogyny prize.
Segu begins in 1797, in a flourishing city-state of the same name in what is now Mali, and follows the men of the Traore family for over half a century. It is a volatile time in West African history: traditional practices and animist beliefs are losing ground to Islam, further complicating tensions between the various kingdoms; coastal areas are dominated by the slave trade; European trade and, later in the book, missionaries are beginning to make inroads as well. The story begins with a patriarch before shifting focus to follow four of his sons for most of the book; toward the end, a couple of grandsons become key characters as well.
The story begins ponderously, and ends so abruptly, in the middle of a battle, that I am not entirely convinced my edition isn't missing a chapter or two at the end, but in the (substantial) middle section, Condé does show some storytelling skills. There are plenty of dramatic happenings here, as befits the dramatic time period. The story is heavy on detail, and if at times the exposition is a bit clumsy, the book does give a sense of a time and place most people know little about. It certainly rebuts the idea that there was nothing going on in Africa until the European powers arrived; the most prominent conflict here is between Islam and traditional religion, and the book portrays a developed, changing culture quite apart from European influence (which, in the book, is minor). As for the writing, aside from constantly poking the reader in the eye with exclamation points, it isn't bad.
And then we get to the rape. Within the pages of this book, the unsuspecting reader will find:
- One of the brothers, seeing an attractive female slave, pounces on her, drags her to the privy and rapes her repeatedly. In response, she falls in love with him.
- Another brother, as a mercenary, rapes numerous women, and in particular, chases down an 11-year-old girl who insults him and initiates a gang rape of her. In response, she falls in love with him.
- Yet another brother, as a grown man, organizes the kidnapping of his 14-year-old girlfriend, because he's afraid that if given the choice, she wouldn't agree to elope with him. He's also secretly sleeping with her mom.
- The final brother dies before getting the chance to rape anyone, but to add some rape to his storyline, the author introduces us to a male ex-slave who has been "turned gay" by being raped repeatedly by men. Because apparently rape not only makes you fall in love, but changes your sexual orientation so you can get more of the same? He now hates himself and is shunned.
Even when no one is actually committing rape, the book dedicates itself to shoehorning in rape imagery even where it makes no sense: " `One day you'll come to Segu. You've never seen a town like it.... Segu is surrounded by walls, like a woman you can possess only by force.'" And of course the male gaze is so overwhelming that a ripe fruit can't be mentioned without being compared to a nubile teenage virgin. Other assorted passages from this book:
A consensual sex scene: "He held Romana in his arms and satisfied her desire to be possessed."
A new female character is introduced: "Lady Jane.... was reaching the age when a woman's charm is at its height. Another few years and the inexorable moment would come when her flesh would begin to sag, blurring the oval of her face and the firmness of her breasts.... But for the time being she was perfect!" This is of course all we need to know about Lady Jane.
"Diemogo signaled for her to be silent, but not unkindly, since a woman is never mistress of what she says, especially when she is suffering."
"Women! What could you do with them? What did they want? What lay behind their beauty and docility, those traps to imprison men? .... Wasn't it enough for them to know that no man is grown-up to the woman who bore him? That, apart from the shared game of appearances, no man is strong against the woman he loves and desires?"
Since the author is in fact a woman, one assumes she doesn't actually espouse these opinions, but it is impossible to tell from the text. There is not a single complex or interesting female character in it. They function as embodiments of sex and motherhood rather than actual people, and when we do drop into their heads, it's only to hear about how much they care for some man, who has of course mistreated them. (Ironically, even the woman referenced in that last quote is only asking for recognition for her child, so it seems that being a sex object and mother is in fact enough for her.) Did the author (who first published this book in 1984) believe, consciously or not, that serious literature requires misogyny? Or ought this instead be viewed as a misandrist work, since the men in it are so vile? But then, is making half her main characters rapists in fact misandrist, if none of her women mind being raped?
Having arrived at that disgusting question, I have nothing further to say about this book. Back to the library with it, and good riddance.
This is my book from Mali for my world books challenge, and I looked forward to reading it, because you don't find much historical fiction set in pre-colonial Africa. Too bad it reads like it was competing with the instigators of Gamergate for some maximum misogyny prize.
Segu begins in 1797, in a flourishing city-state of the same name in what is now Mali, and follows the men of the Traore family for over half a century. It is a volatile time in West African history: traditional practices and animist beliefs are losing ground to Islam, further complicating tensions between the various kingdoms; coastal areas are dominated by the slave trade; European trade and, later in the book, missionaries are beginning to make inroads as well. The story begins with a patriarch before shifting focus to follow four of his sons for most of the book; toward the end, a couple of grandsons become key characters as well.
The story begins ponderously, and ends so abruptly, in the middle of a battle, that I am not entirely convinced my edition isn't missing a chapter or two at the end, but in the (substantial) middle section, Condé does show some storytelling skills. There are plenty of dramatic happenings here, as befits the dramatic time period. The story is heavy on detail, and if at times the exposition is a bit clumsy, the book does give a sense of a time and place most people know little about. It certainly rebuts the idea that there was nothing going on in Africa until the European powers arrived; the most prominent conflict here is between Islam and traditional religion, and the book portrays a developed, changing culture quite apart from European influence (which, in the book, is minor). As for the writing, aside from constantly poking the reader in the eye with exclamation points, it isn't bad.
And then we get to the rape. Within the pages of this book, the unsuspecting reader will find:
- One of the brothers, seeing an attractive female slave, pounces on her, drags her to the privy and rapes her repeatedly. In response, she falls in love with him.
- Another brother, as a mercenary, rapes numerous women, and in particular, chases down an 11-year-old girl who insults him and initiates a gang rape of her. In response, she falls in love with him.
- Yet another brother, as a grown man, organizes the kidnapping of his 14-year-old girlfriend, because he's afraid that if given the choice, she wouldn't agree to elope with him. He's also secretly sleeping with her mom.
- The final brother dies before getting the chance to rape anyone, but to add some rape to his storyline, the author introduces us to a male ex-slave who has been "turned gay" by being raped repeatedly by men. Because apparently rape not only makes you fall in love, but changes your sexual orientation so you can get more of the same? He now hates himself and is shunned.
Even when no one is actually committing rape, the book dedicates itself to shoehorning in rape imagery even where it makes no sense: " `One day you'll come to Segu. You've never seen a town like it.... Segu is surrounded by walls, like a woman you can possess only by force.'" And of course the male gaze is so overwhelming that a ripe fruit can't be mentioned without being compared to a nubile teenage virgin. Other assorted passages from this book:
A consensual sex scene: "He held Romana in his arms and satisfied her desire to be possessed."
A new female character is introduced: "Lady Jane.... was reaching the age when a woman's charm is at its height. Another few years and the inexorable moment would come when her flesh would begin to sag, blurring the oval of her face and the firmness of her breasts.... But for the time being she was perfect!" This is of course all we need to know about Lady Jane.
"Diemogo signaled for her to be silent, but not unkindly, since a woman is never mistress of what she says, especially when she is suffering."
"Women! What could you do with them? What did they want? What lay behind their beauty and docility, those traps to imprison men? .... Wasn't it enough for them to know that no man is grown-up to the woman who bore him? That, apart from the shared game of appearances, no man is strong against the woman he loves and desires?"
Since the author is in fact a woman, one assumes she doesn't actually espouse these opinions, but it is impossible to tell from the text. There is not a single complex or interesting female character in it. They function as embodiments of sex and motherhood rather than actual people, and when we do drop into their heads, it's only to hear about how much they care for some man, who has of course mistreated them. (Ironically, even the woman referenced in that last quote is only asking for recognition for her child, so it seems that being a sex object and mother is in fact enough for her.) Did the author (who first published this book in 1984) believe, consciously or not, that serious literature requires misogyny? Or ought this instead be viewed as a misandrist work, since the men in it are so vile? But then, is making half her main characters rapists in fact misandrist, if none of her women mind being raped?
Having arrived at that disgusting question, I have nothing further to say about this book. Back to the library with it, and good riddance.
June 10, 2018
Like the swift-running river on whose banks the city of Segu sits, the lives of the various men of the Traore family flow through the veins of Western Africa; enslaved, apostatised and awaken from both intellectual and spiritual slumbers, Conde is able to depict, via the Traore family, the gradual, yet constant dehumanisation of Africans via the wider forces of the world, whether it the slave trade of the New World, the colonial ambitions of Europe or the religious fervour of the Arabic world the description of Africa as a dark continent is something of a misnomer; instead it becomes a blank canvas for the world to paint with its prejudices, as Africans and their civilisations and cultures are daubed as barbarians and savages all in the name of greed and domination dressed up as a desire to civilise Africa. Segu, however, doesn't shy away from depicting the prevalence of slavery within African society, or of the dominance of violence and rape to subjugate women and it would be unfair to depict 'Segu' as merely a narrow anti-colonial or anti-Western treatise, instead it is a depiction of Western Africa during a tumultuous period when it was being pulled in a variety of directions by outside forces, however the common theme in the novel is what it meant to be Black in a world in which it caused you to be constantly dehumanized, whether it the prejudices experienced by Tiekoro by fellow Muslims or Babatunde by the English in London, the common thread is that of subjugation of a people stripped of its names, cultures, traditions and religions in a world which value greed over compassion and money over life.
The Traore are a powerful family in Segu, ruled by the patriarch Dousika. He has a large number of children-and wives-however the story mainly concentrates on the journeys of his sons; his eldest Tiekoro and his brother Naba, his bastard son, borne of a slave, Siga and his youngest Molobali. Like leaves before a wind, they are scattered from their home across the world to the lives and fates which await them. Tiekoro converts to Islam, however his supercilious air hides a deep-sense of unhappiness and dissatisfaction not just with his conversion, but the world around him. Part of this is driven by his treatment by the Arab Muslims, but it is mostly driven by his sense of entitlement and pride; his spiritual ties to Islam are only superficial, the adulation he receives for his sententious speeches on religion mask his emptiness. In the end he dies a martyr in an act of self-abnegation dressed up as sacrifice. Contrast this to the initially humble and self-effacing Siga, who ends up as the head of the family and wallows in pride and self-pity, a bully whose ego swells up like his elephantine limbs.
Naba, captured and enslaved, is able to find solace in flowers and fellow slave Ayodele, whereas Moloabli eventually atones for the horrific crimes he commits in-somewhat coincidentally-the arms of Ayodele. Both, however, are executed due to misunderstandings, their flames burnt out by a world which was against them from the start. In addition to this appear a wide caste of richly-developed female characters, from the matriarchal Nya to the beautiful and coquettish Ayisha-however the common thread which runs through their lives is their complete lack of power and control, reduced to concubinage, their double-subjugation on being both black and a woman and the expectation that they should accept whatever violence and rape they are subjected to.
Conde depicts the Africa in which Segu is set as somewhere which is at times both arid, as the ochre-dyed desert, or beautiful as the green-blue Atlantic ocean, but a beauty which is bound by the cruelty of the slave trade which it creates, or of the frenetic, dizzy world of Fez or Segu. 'Segu' is a beautifully depicted and tragic story of a family over-taken by the onset of modernity in an Africa which is on the cusp of losing its traditions and its history under the relentless machinery of modernisation.
The Traore are a powerful family in Segu, ruled by the patriarch Dousika. He has a large number of children-and wives-however the story mainly concentrates on the journeys of his sons; his eldest Tiekoro and his brother Naba, his bastard son, borne of a slave, Siga and his youngest Molobali. Like leaves before a wind, they are scattered from their home across the world to the lives and fates which await them. Tiekoro converts to Islam, however his supercilious air hides a deep-sense of unhappiness and dissatisfaction not just with his conversion, but the world around him. Part of this is driven by his treatment by the Arab Muslims, but it is mostly driven by his sense of entitlement and pride; his spiritual ties to Islam are only superficial, the adulation he receives for his sententious speeches on religion mask his emptiness. In the end he dies a martyr in an act of self-abnegation dressed up as sacrifice. Contrast this to the initially humble and self-effacing Siga, who ends up as the head of the family and wallows in pride and self-pity, a bully whose ego swells up like his elephantine limbs.
Naba, captured and enslaved, is able to find solace in flowers and fellow slave Ayodele, whereas Moloabli eventually atones for the horrific crimes he commits in-somewhat coincidentally-the arms of Ayodele. Both, however, are executed due to misunderstandings, their flames burnt out by a world which was against them from the start. In addition to this appear a wide caste of richly-developed female characters, from the matriarchal Nya to the beautiful and coquettish Ayisha-however the common thread which runs through their lives is their complete lack of power and control, reduced to concubinage, their double-subjugation on being both black and a woman and the expectation that they should accept whatever violence and rape they are subjected to.
Conde depicts the Africa in which Segu is set as somewhere which is at times both arid, as the ochre-dyed desert, or beautiful as the green-blue Atlantic ocean, but a beauty which is bound by the cruelty of the slave trade which it creates, or of the frenetic, dizzy world of Fez or Segu. 'Segu' is a beautifully depicted and tragic story of a family over-taken by the onset of modernity in an Africa which is on the cusp of losing its traditions and its history under the relentless machinery of modernisation.
January 16, 2013
I read this years ago, before heading to live in Mali for several months. I am thinking back on this intergenerational, magical realist epic that paints history in broad and intimate, familial strokes like Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude. Segu tells the story of Mali's triple, simultaneous colonizations-- enslavement, French land-grabbing, and Muslim religious conquest. I am thinking now about the human-imposed tragedy in Mali today with heartbreak, as this book is lived again through labor migration, Western resource extraction, and a Salafist sharia imposed by outsiders on a devout Muslim people. What's happening in Mali today is history repeating itself with cruel accuracy. Fighting over and through the bodies of the people in this place, this hot, dry, barely cultivable, destitute and joyous place.
April 1, 2021
Why was life no more than a bridge from disillusion to disillusion?
This story concentrates on the male members of the Traore family, beginning with Dousika the patriarch, and later his sons and grandsons. A noble family of the kingdom of Segu, their sons are scattered all over the world and it is through their lives coloured with promise, dreams and expectations in their younger years and tinged with disappointment, regret and sadness in their later years, that the story is based on.
I became interested in reading this book after coming across an interview between Maryse Condé and Francoise Pfaff. In the interview, Maryse Condé speaks of the high suicide rates among women in certain West African communities despite the misconception that suicide was basically non-existent in pre-colonial Africa.
The story itself is set in probably the most violent era in West African history. Community rising against community for territory, power and captives; a booming Transatlantic slave trade that uprooted millions and enslaved millions in hellish conditions in the Americas; christian missionaries laying the ground for European colonization; radical muslim leaders spreading their faith through violence; and an overall extremely violent and misogynistic period for women.
Condé stated in the interview that this book was meant to be a thesis at first and it shows. From the architecture, to the cuisines, to the weapons, to the rites and customs, this book is furnished brilliantly with historical detail. Like the other Maryse Condé books I've read, this story is set in multiple regions across different continents. The story begins and predominantly takes place in the kingdom of Segu which is in present-day Mali. The story is also set in Recife (Brazil), Fez (Morroco), Cape Coast (Ghana), London (Recife) among other locations. And this story shows Condé's range perfectly.
This story concentrates on the male members of the Traore family, beginning with Dousika the patriarch, and later his sons and grandsons. A noble family of the kingdom of Segu, their sons are scattered all over the world and it is through their lives coloured with promise, dreams and expectations in their younger years and tinged with disappointment, regret and sadness in their later years, that the story is based on.
I became interested in reading this book after coming across an interview between Maryse Condé and Francoise Pfaff. In the interview, Maryse Condé speaks of the high suicide rates among women in certain West African communities despite the misconception that suicide was basically non-existent in pre-colonial Africa.
The story itself is set in probably the most violent era in West African history. Community rising against community for territory, power and captives; a booming Transatlantic slave trade that uprooted millions and enslaved millions in hellish conditions in the Americas; christian missionaries laying the ground for European colonization; radical muslim leaders spreading their faith through violence; and an overall extremely violent and misogynistic period for women.
Condé stated in the interview that this book was meant to be a thesis at first and it shows. From the architecture, to the cuisines, to the weapons, to the rites and customs, this book is furnished brilliantly with historical detail. Like the other Maryse Condé books I've read, this story is set in multiple regions across different continents. The story begins and predominantly takes place in the kingdom of Segu which is in present-day Mali. The story is also set in Recife (Brazil), Fez (Morroco), Cape Coast (Ghana), London (Recife) among other locations. And this story shows Condé's range perfectly.
May 11, 2025
⭐ ⭐ ⭐⭐ ✨
9/10
Debemos considerar incluso como valor que no hay personas mejores que otras, pero qué malos son los fanatismos, los hay unos mejores que otros? África parece tierra propensa a todo abuso. Hace poco leía las teorías de Olive Schreiner en Sudáfrica, después a Kamel Daoud y la violencia de la guerra en Argelia, o el avance del integrismo que retrata Gabi Martínez en su investigación sobre Jordi Magraner en Sólo para gigantes. Segu para mí culminaría esta idea de los estragos que el fanatismo propicia con la islamización de África desde su mismo origen.
Maryse Condé narra la historia en el siglo XVIII del reino bambara de Segu, que se situaría en la actual Mali, con toda profundidad en cada detalle, su política, su religión, su sociedad... El tratamiento tan riguroso de la Historia en la narración ha convertido la propia Historia en lo mejor de la novela. Desde un principio mi atención no se enfocaba en la trama vital de los personajes, que en ocasiones me ha parecido ñoña y muy conformista sobre todo en su primera parte. Dicho sea de paso que me pasa siempre con esta autora, me queda ya solo pendiente La deseada por encontrar tal vez su gran obra, pero en todas le veo cotas de obra maestra que luego van perdiendo fuerza con un tono más convencional, como si no se atreviera del todo y optara por creaciones más estereotipadas.
Segu en ese aspecto no ha sido una excepción. Las relaciones en el transcurso de la saga familiar no han llamado mi interés, lo que me ha maravillado como para redondear a cinco estrellas ha sido el contexto y la sabiduría para capturar cada momento histórico de una forma tan vívida.
Ha sido casi como si hubiera escrito dos novelas distintas.
Una saga africana a partir del reino de Segu que encarna en cada personaje las distintas vicisitudes históricas, y aprovechando su entorno y contexto otra trama más profunda que retrata la violencia de la lucha entre religiones, la cotidianeidad de la trata de esclavos y la ley del más fuerte que impuso la colonización blanca.
De los personajes que he disfrutado me quedo con Eucaristo y su ansiado descubrimiento del mundo real al llegar a Londres, por la lección política que nos da esta autora mientras narra su viaje.
Una gran obra y un monumento literario a Segu.
9/10
Debemos considerar incluso como valor que no hay personas mejores que otras, pero qué malos son los fanatismos, los hay unos mejores que otros? África parece tierra propensa a todo abuso. Hace poco leía las teorías de Olive Schreiner en Sudáfrica, después a Kamel Daoud y la violencia de la guerra en Argelia, o el avance del integrismo que retrata Gabi Martínez en su investigación sobre Jordi Magraner en Sólo para gigantes. Segu para mí culminaría esta idea de los estragos que el fanatismo propicia con la islamización de África desde su mismo origen.
Maryse Condé narra la historia en el siglo XVIII del reino bambara de Segu, que se situaría en la actual Mali, con toda profundidad en cada detalle, su política, su religión, su sociedad... El tratamiento tan riguroso de la Historia en la narración ha convertido la propia Historia en lo mejor de la novela. Desde un principio mi atención no se enfocaba en la trama vital de los personajes, que en ocasiones me ha parecido ñoña y muy conformista sobre todo en su primera parte. Dicho sea de paso que me pasa siempre con esta autora, me queda ya solo pendiente La deseada por encontrar tal vez su gran obra, pero en todas le veo cotas de obra maestra que luego van perdiendo fuerza con un tono más convencional, como si no se atreviera del todo y optara por creaciones más estereotipadas.
Segu en ese aspecto no ha sido una excepción. Las relaciones en el transcurso de la saga familiar no han llamado mi interés, lo que me ha maravillado como para redondear a cinco estrellas ha sido el contexto y la sabiduría para capturar cada momento histórico de una forma tan vívida.
Ha sido casi como si hubiera escrito dos novelas distintas.
Una saga africana a partir del reino de Segu que encarna en cada personaje las distintas vicisitudes históricas, y aprovechando su entorno y contexto otra trama más profunda que retrata la violencia de la lucha entre religiones, la cotidianeidad de la trata de esclavos y la ley del más fuerte que impuso la colonización blanca.
De los personajes que he disfrutado me quedo con Eucaristo y su ansiado descubrimiento del mundo real al llegar a Londres, por la lección política que nos da esta autora mientras narra su viaje.
Una gran obra y un monumento literario a Segu.
June 7, 2015
A fabulous novel about a Bambara family living in the kingdom of Segu from 1787, prominent in it's time, however the father falls out of favour with the King and his son's each go off in search of adventure outside the kingdom, where they discover quite a different perception of their people and their race.
It shines a light on the impact of cross tribal marriage and partnership, of slavery, both that perpetuated by the Europeans and also from within the African continent. The role of the son and the daughter, the rules of marriage, the perceptions of religion, the rise of Islam, the practices of fetishists and superstitions of their followers. The precence and guiding voice of ancestors and the reincarnation of souls. And the effect of love/lust on each of them.
Narrated through the journey's of the four sons of Dousika, by necessity a long, slow read.
Full review and descritpion of my reading journey through Maryse Condé's books here at Word by Word.
It shines a light on the impact of cross tribal marriage and partnership, of slavery, both that perpetuated by the Europeans and also from within the African continent. The role of the son and the daughter, the rules of marriage, the perceptions of religion, the rise of Islam, the practices of fetishists and superstitions of their followers. The precence and guiding voice of ancestors and the reincarnation of souls. And the effect of love/lust on each of them.
Narrated through the journey's of the four sons of Dousika, by necessity a long, slow read.
Full review and descritpion of my reading journey through Maryse Condé's books here at Word by Word.
April 29, 2025
I picked up Segu as part of my journey to learn more about West Africa—I've been there before and am planning a longer trip soon. I’d read some of Maryse Condé’s work already, so I knew I was in good hands, but Segu exceeded all my expectations.
It’s a big novel that dives deep into West African history, culture, religion, colonialism and more. It's not a light read, but the storytelling is so powerful that I found myself totally immersed. At one point, I was even dreaming scenes from the book. Some reviewers compared it to One Hundred Years of Solitude, and I get that. It has that same epic, generational thread and a touch of magical realism that stays with you long after the final page.
Segu offers a perspective on a part of Africa that we rarely get through Western education. It challenges a lot of the narrow narratives we’re used to and reveals a rich, complex world. Yes, it deals with some heavy themes but that felt like part of the historical reality Condé was trying to reflect.
Someone also mentioned the lack of female voices, and I agree—a more prominent female perspective would have made the already rich narrative even more complete. Still, you can tell how much research went into this, and yet it never feels dry. It's all woven into a story that feels alive.
After finishing it, I had so many questions I ended up grilling a friend of mine who’s Bambara. That’s how deep this book got under my skin. I'm really glad I read it—I've learned so much, and it’s one of those books that stays with you.
It’s a big novel that dives deep into West African history, culture, religion, colonialism and more. It's not a light read, but the storytelling is so powerful that I found myself totally immersed. At one point, I was even dreaming scenes from the book. Some reviewers compared it to One Hundred Years of Solitude, and I get that. It has that same epic, generational thread and a touch of magical realism that stays with you long after the final page.
Segu offers a perspective on a part of Africa that we rarely get through Western education. It challenges a lot of the narrow narratives we’re used to and reveals a rich, complex world. Yes, it deals with some heavy themes but that felt like part of the historical reality Condé was trying to reflect.
Someone also mentioned the lack of female voices, and I agree—a more prominent female perspective would have made the already rich narrative even more complete. Still, you can tell how much research went into this, and yet it never feels dry. It's all woven into a story that feels alive.
After finishing it, I had so many questions I ended up grilling a friend of mine who’s Bambara. That’s how deep this book got under my skin. I'm really glad I read it—I've learned so much, and it’s one of those books that stays with you.
January 7, 2015
...I think this was the fourth time I've read this book and I still think it is an amazing read. It is one of the few novels I'm aware of that shows us an African society from the inside and succeeds in making it believable. Condé has obviously put in a lot of research into the history, culture and customs of Ségou and the result is a very good historical novel. It's a book that will make the reader a lot more aware of the fact that slave trade, religious fanaticism and colonialism left their scars on many local cultures and have sown the seeds of many of the post-colonial conflicts that still plague the continent. On the other hand it also shows this part of the world as vibrant, culturally rich and in some ways very resilient. I must admit that I knew very little of Mali before I read this book for the first time many years ago and that may have been the type or reader Condé was aiming for. It is a great introduction to a piece of Africa that does not show up in the history curriculum of the average western highschool student. Since that is not likely to change anytime soon, you should probably just go out and read this book.
Flull Random Comments review
Flull Random Comments review
August 31, 2015
When I picked up Segu it was quite by accident. This forum I contribute to, the World Literature Forum, has been trying to guess who would win this year's Nobel Prize since the middle of summer. It is one of the conversations that, year-after-year, brings out dozens of contributors and hundreds of responses. Conde's name popped up once or twice, as, apparently, the French literary press was promoting her as a potential recipient prior to Modiano coming away with a win last year. And then, a few days after reading the posts (and the not-so-glowing responses) I saw Segu sitting on my library's shelf. I figured to give it a go. Besides, I wanted to read something by a woman and Nadine Gordimer was proving to be just a bit too elusive for me at the time, so why not read this one?
I think I admire African literature because I can see it dealing with issues which I wish Canadian literature discussed more frequently and more competently. Colonialism, anti-colonialism, post-colonialism. These are the realities of the nation in which I was born and to which my first breaths swore allegiance. Oddly enough, though, it seems to be predominantly White Africans that I have found myself reading. Coetzee, Lessing, Gordimer, Brink, Galgut, Couto. I've only read a couple other works by "indigenous" Africans (is that even what you can them? I don't know, Africa is a confusing continent) - some by Ngugi wa Thiong'o, one by Buchi Emecheta. I've skimmed through some Chinua Achebe but have never felt the need to read through any of his works just yet. So Segu was a rare and illuminating read for me - the sort that I must make less rare in my reading habits.
And the author isn't even African. Maryse Conde comes from Guadaloupe, a small Caribbean island nation. Her ancestors were from West Africa, though I'm not sure where I found this out or if I'm making this up, since I can't seem to find this information again and I'm willing to suspect that I'm just making silly assumptions. Regardless, she writes about this vast period of history with incredible authority. On to the book.
Segu is the story of a family and the many adventures of its many men from the late 18th to early 19th century. Segu is also an empire. Segu is also a city, the capital of the empire, the seat of the Mansa. It is a city known for its startling wealth. And it is on an edge, being an empire in the interior. In the 17th century it is squeezed by the slave trade to its west and the rapid rise of Islam, and its many sects, to the east. In the 18th century, with the English-led slave trade died out and the French-led slave trade dying out, the new threat is simple colonization. The whites want into the continent, and the Muslims - mostly Africans who have converted - want into the empire. The grip tightens and the empire is pressured in new ways.
Conde is wise in this book, as she manages to make Segu sound like a beautiful, romantic city which the many members of the Traore family love while also revealing that it is far from utopian. This empire was made by war, worked by the hands of slaves, raised by women who were full members of the family but still fully subservient to their husbands and their husbands' brothers. She is also wise because she portrays the remarkable innocence of these people, the Bambara, as they are coming of age over generations. I think that is actually how I would qualify this story. It is a coming-of-age story for a family.
What is fascinating is the ways in which this one family - vast as it is - can come to represent the demise of an entire culture and, by extension, the challenges facing an entire continent. The children of Dousake, a man who is cursed moments before his, are the many protagonists of this novel. They go across nations and continents, dabble in religions from various corners, carouse with people of many other cultures. They try to come home and they leave for unusual, uncertain, remarkable reasons. But Conde is also very clearly showing that this world is very different than the one that I know. It looks different, feels different, uses space differently, decorates differently, and values different things than I do. That is important work.
It also feels remarkably contemporary, revealing that, though the winds of time are strong and unalterable, they are also consistent in the tales that they weave. The world is caught in the same moment that Segu deals with. The threat of extremism, presented by the expansion of Islam into northern Africa, and the ever-inquisitive, ever-incipient efforts to expand influence and power of the already influential and already powerful, presented by the creeping but nonetheless powerful expansion of Europeans into the interior of Africa: these are the challenges of the contemporary world as much as they were the challenges of Conde’s Segu.
At times one wonders if this work is Islamophobic. At times it might be. I wasn’t comfortable with that thread - but she treated the few Islamic characters and the few Christian characters with the same skepticism. And so while the threat of Islam that which Segu feels most pressingly, one wonders if Conde would feel just as comfortable saying the same of any religious and colonial force imposing its ideas, its economies, its relations with the environment onto anybody else. I’m not sure; that last line in the novel, though, is telling. And startling, despite being perhaps a bit trite and simple and obvious. I think the Christian thread is going to become more prominent in the sequel, which was less popular and is more difficult to find but which I would like to read.
So why only three stars?
All the threads here are marvelous. Make no mistake, this is an epic of impressive scale. There are so many characters, several lush and enjoyable storylines. Events which dwindle into nothingness but are given their due time and explored until the plant dies and new seeds leak from its husk. And it is a great story.
Unfortunately, the characters just don’t quite make an impression. And the writing is remarkably ordinary, even long-winded. And, unfortunately, the story doesn’t have a clear plot or driving force of any story.
I’m willing to chalk this up to a couple things. First, I think this book is a wonderful appropriation of the European tradition of nineteenth century epics and, using that form, an extension of that absolute fascination with the individual and a focus on the community and change and history. And - dare I say this without having read any of Achebe’s work but having read some of Ngugi and Emecheta - it tells the important story of how Africans relate to Africans rather than how Africans relate to Europeans. The Europeans here are a spectre, but they certainly aren’t the focus. They aren’t even the primary antagonist. This is important work. I also think that it takes a more post-modern approach to the epic than I have seen or recognized before. The inconsequential is a part of the story that is told here - the randomness of history is just as important as the consequential nature of it. Of course, it lands much more defiantly in the epicist’s focus on narrative than we see in some of the best American postmodern fiction, but it is here. All stories matter, even just a bit. And a clear plotline is a contrived notion anyways, right? So don’t worry about it so much, right? But we must. Maybe that balance is something that Conde is trying to figure out.
Of course, the story that is on the periphery here is that of the women of Segu. They are given very little agency; very little opportunity to explore themselves or the world around them. I believe there is only one chapter which is told from the perspective of a woman. I can recall, thinking back on more than ten days of memory, two wonderful female characters. One, a woman who tricks a man. Another, a woman who tricks a man. These women are only given space to grow as they relate to men - their agency is only through their ability to manipulate men. How fascinating these two were! I wanted inside their heads! But no. That would destroy the whole notion of the nineteenth century epic which this book is attempting to co-opt and transplate.
There is one chapter which is told from the perspective of a woman. It is one of the most interesting. One of the most vital.
This is a complicated read. After its nearly 500 pages I have nothing but complicated feelings about it. I suppose, when dealing with the themes that Conde is not afraid to tackle, even if she doesn’t tackle them all really well, that having complicated feelings is not such a bad thing. This is art after all. We should be moved to be uncomfortable.
A recommended read, if you can find it.
I think I admire African literature because I can see it dealing with issues which I wish Canadian literature discussed more frequently and more competently. Colonialism, anti-colonialism, post-colonialism. These are the realities of the nation in which I was born and to which my first breaths swore allegiance. Oddly enough, though, it seems to be predominantly White Africans that I have found myself reading. Coetzee, Lessing, Gordimer, Brink, Galgut, Couto. I've only read a couple other works by "indigenous" Africans (is that even what you can them? I don't know, Africa is a confusing continent) - some by Ngugi wa Thiong'o, one by Buchi Emecheta. I've skimmed through some Chinua Achebe but have never felt the need to read through any of his works just yet. So Segu was a rare and illuminating read for me - the sort that I must make less rare in my reading habits.
And the author isn't even African. Maryse Conde comes from Guadaloupe, a small Caribbean island nation. Her ancestors were from West Africa, though I'm not sure where I found this out or if I'm making this up, since I can't seem to find this information again and I'm willing to suspect that I'm just making silly assumptions. Regardless, she writes about this vast period of history with incredible authority. On to the book.
Segu is the story of a family and the many adventures of its many men from the late 18th to early 19th century. Segu is also an empire. Segu is also a city, the capital of the empire, the seat of the Mansa. It is a city known for its startling wealth. And it is on an edge, being an empire in the interior. In the 17th century it is squeezed by the slave trade to its west and the rapid rise of Islam, and its many sects, to the east. In the 18th century, with the English-led slave trade died out and the French-led slave trade dying out, the new threat is simple colonization. The whites want into the continent, and the Muslims - mostly Africans who have converted - want into the empire. The grip tightens and the empire is pressured in new ways.
Conde is wise in this book, as she manages to make Segu sound like a beautiful, romantic city which the many members of the Traore family love while also revealing that it is far from utopian. This empire was made by war, worked by the hands of slaves, raised by women who were full members of the family but still fully subservient to their husbands and their husbands' brothers. She is also wise because she portrays the remarkable innocence of these people, the Bambara, as they are coming of age over generations. I think that is actually how I would qualify this story. It is a coming-of-age story for a family.
What is fascinating is the ways in which this one family - vast as it is - can come to represent the demise of an entire culture and, by extension, the challenges facing an entire continent. The children of Dousake, a man who is cursed moments before his, are the many protagonists of this novel. They go across nations and continents, dabble in religions from various corners, carouse with people of many other cultures. They try to come home and they leave for unusual, uncertain, remarkable reasons. But Conde is also very clearly showing that this world is very different than the one that I know. It looks different, feels different, uses space differently, decorates differently, and values different things than I do. That is important work.
It also feels remarkably contemporary, revealing that, though the winds of time are strong and unalterable, they are also consistent in the tales that they weave. The world is caught in the same moment that Segu deals with. The threat of extremism, presented by the expansion of Islam into northern Africa, and the ever-inquisitive, ever-incipient efforts to expand influence and power of the already influential and already powerful, presented by the creeping but nonetheless powerful expansion of Europeans into the interior of Africa: these are the challenges of the contemporary world as much as they were the challenges of Conde’s Segu.
At times one wonders if this work is Islamophobic. At times it might be. I wasn’t comfortable with that thread - but she treated the few Islamic characters and the few Christian characters with the same skepticism. And so while the threat of Islam that which Segu feels most pressingly, one wonders if Conde would feel just as comfortable saying the same of any religious and colonial force imposing its ideas, its economies, its relations with the environment onto anybody else. I’m not sure; that last line in the novel, though, is telling. And startling, despite being perhaps a bit trite and simple and obvious. I think the Christian thread is going to become more prominent in the sequel, which was less popular and is more difficult to find but which I would like to read.
So why only three stars?
All the threads here are marvelous. Make no mistake, this is an epic of impressive scale. There are so many characters, several lush and enjoyable storylines. Events which dwindle into nothingness but are given their due time and explored until the plant dies and new seeds leak from its husk. And it is a great story.
Unfortunately, the characters just don’t quite make an impression. And the writing is remarkably ordinary, even long-winded. And, unfortunately, the story doesn’t have a clear plot or driving force of any story.
I’m willing to chalk this up to a couple things. First, I think this book is a wonderful appropriation of the European tradition of nineteenth century epics and, using that form, an extension of that absolute fascination with the individual and a focus on the community and change and history. And - dare I say this without having read any of Achebe’s work but having read some of Ngugi and Emecheta - it tells the important story of how Africans relate to Africans rather than how Africans relate to Europeans. The Europeans here are a spectre, but they certainly aren’t the focus. They aren’t even the primary antagonist. This is important work. I also think that it takes a more post-modern approach to the epic than I have seen or recognized before. The inconsequential is a part of the story that is told here - the randomness of history is just as important as the consequential nature of it. Of course, it lands much more defiantly in the epicist’s focus on narrative than we see in some of the best American postmodern fiction, but it is here. All stories matter, even just a bit. And a clear plotline is a contrived notion anyways, right? So don’t worry about it so much, right? But we must. Maybe that balance is something that Conde is trying to figure out.
Of course, the story that is on the periphery here is that of the women of Segu. They are given very little agency; very little opportunity to explore themselves or the world around them. I believe there is only one chapter which is told from the perspective of a woman. I can recall, thinking back on more than ten days of memory, two wonderful female characters. One, a woman who tricks a man. Another, a woman who tricks a man. These women are only given space to grow as they relate to men - their agency is only through their ability to manipulate men. How fascinating these two were! I wanted inside their heads! But no. That would destroy the whole notion of the nineteenth century epic which this book is attempting to co-opt and transplate.
There is one chapter which is told from the perspective of a woman. It is one of the most interesting. One of the most vital.
This is a complicated read. After its nearly 500 pages I have nothing but complicated feelings about it. I suppose, when dealing with the themes that Conde is not afraid to tackle, even if she doesn’t tackle them all really well, that having complicated feelings is not such a bad thing. This is art after all. We should be moved to be uncomfortable.
A recommended read, if you can find it.
Did Not Finish
August 7, 2019Bailed after three chapters, once I realized these characters had all the depth and nuance of a fricking comic book.
March 8, 2019
This was another great book I would probably never have noticed if it hadn’t been for bookcrossing. And what a loss it would have been.
The book follows the history of the Bambara people, from the 18th until the early 19th century.
Today, the Bambara live mainly in present-day Mali and form the largest part of its population. Between the 17th and 19th century, they had two powerful kingdoms, one with its center in Segu, and the other in Kaarta. We follow the Traore family from Segu, through several generations. With them, we travel northwards to Fez, westwards to Saint Louis (present-day Senegal), we cross the Atlantic with French and Portuguese slave traders, to Brazil and back, and we also meet the English and pay a short visit to 18th century London.
But the core of the book is about African history and life in this period, which was mostly unknown to me and by far the most interesting part of the book. We learn about the way of life of common people, how the kingdom was run by the Mansa, the clash between Islam and the traditional way of life and religion, the wars and alliances that, just like today, had little to do with religion and more with the greed for power and riches. It is a book based on actual events but the author gives us characters that are true people we find ourselves empathizing with, and in the end we find ourselves divided, because truly, there are no good or bad in this story:
“Muhammad rushed into the compound like a madman just as Olubunmi and Alfa were coming out of Tiefolo’s hut. The three young men embraced each other without a word. Muhammad and Alfa came together again, hugging each other like a pair of lovers who have just missed losing each other forever. In a very short time they had discovered all the horror of religious fanaticism, and of the scheming for power that so often lay behind it. Alfa felt he would never forget the sight of his father profaning the altars of the Traore. God is love. God is respect for everyone. No, Alhadji Guidado was not the servant of God; he was merely the unwitting tool of Amadou Amadou’s earthly ambition.”
A truly fascinating book!
The book follows the history of the Bambara people, from the 18th until the early 19th century.
Today, the Bambara live mainly in present-day Mali and form the largest part of its population. Between the 17th and 19th century, they had two powerful kingdoms, one with its center in Segu, and the other in Kaarta. We follow the Traore family from Segu, through several generations. With them, we travel northwards to Fez, westwards to Saint Louis (present-day Senegal), we cross the Atlantic with French and Portuguese slave traders, to Brazil and back, and we also meet the English and pay a short visit to 18th century London.
But the core of the book is about African history and life in this period, which was mostly unknown to me and by far the most interesting part of the book. We learn about the way of life of common people, how the kingdom was run by the Mansa, the clash between Islam and the traditional way of life and religion, the wars and alliances that, just like today, had little to do with religion and more with the greed for power and riches. It is a book based on actual events but the author gives us characters that are true people we find ourselves empathizing with, and in the end we find ourselves divided, because truly, there are no good or bad in this story:
“Muhammad rushed into the compound like a madman just as Olubunmi and Alfa were coming out of Tiefolo’s hut. The three young men embraced each other without a word. Muhammad and Alfa came together again, hugging each other like a pair of lovers who have just missed losing each other forever. In a very short time they had discovered all the horror of religious fanaticism, and of the scheming for power that so often lay behind it. Alfa felt he would never forget the sight of his father profaning the altars of the Traore. God is love. God is respect for everyone. No, Alhadji Guidado was not the servant of God; he was merely the unwitting tool of Amadou Amadou’s earthly ambition.”
A truly fascinating book!
October 10, 2014
There seems to be a trend or a desire to look at Africa certain ways. In one part, it seems (at least in American news eyes) to see it as a one big country. In another, it seems like it has now and colonization and that’s it. When one reads about the exploration of Africa, it is with a Western center, and little about the people who actually live there.
In many ways Conde’s novel Segu does much to attack this perception. Segu takes place in a fading (a real kingdom) and chronicles a family whose fortunes, or lack thereof, mirrors the kingdom’s. It is about a struggle to break free of the chains of the past while challenging the role of progress.
Part of the danger or change comes from the obvious – slavery and transportation to the “New” World. Another danger is the arrival and spreading of religion – both Muslim and Christianity. As one son decides to be Muslim because of the power of the written word (confusing the two as well with a desire to not be as his father), he disregards his brother, whose view on religion is more pragmatic. There is the one son who, strangely, almost manages the best life under startling circumstances.
The book is frustrating, not because of the style or because it isn’t good (one can quite easily see why it would a prize) but because the reader can see the effect and pull of history. There is disappointment because the characters are true people, and, therefore not saints or sinners, but both in one body.
Re-read April 2024. Some critics have pointed to the sexual violence in the story. And its true, the majority of the men in the novel aren't winners. Yet while the women are not the main characters, Conde does show the impact of sexual violence and how it effects the family and clan.
In many ways Conde’s novel Segu does much to attack this perception. Segu takes place in a fading (a real kingdom) and chronicles a family whose fortunes, or lack thereof, mirrors the kingdom’s. It is about a struggle to break free of the chains of the past while challenging the role of progress.
Part of the danger or change comes from the obvious – slavery and transportation to the “New” World. Another danger is the arrival and spreading of religion – both Muslim and Christianity. As one son decides to be Muslim because of the power of the written word (confusing the two as well with a desire to not be as his father), he disregards his brother, whose view on religion is more pragmatic. There is the one son who, strangely, almost manages the best life under startling circumstances.
The book is frustrating, not because of the style or because it isn’t good (one can quite easily see why it would a prize) but because the reader can see the effect and pull of history. There is disappointment because the characters are true people, and, therefore not saints or sinners, but both in one body.
Re-read April 2024. Some critics have pointed to the sexual violence in the story. And its true, the majority of the men in the novel aren't winners. Yet while the women are not the main characters, Conde does show the impact of sexual violence and how it effects the family and clan.
April 24, 2020
Segu is a masterful, captivating saga penned by Maryse Condé. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it from cover to cover. What I found most striking is the portrayal of the African slave trade from the perspective of Africans, both enslaved and free. I also appreciated how she highlighted the wisdom of African traditions, customs and religious practices, many of which might have appeared on the surface to Europeans as primitive, backward or silly. For example, how they assign the wives of a deceased man to his brother to ensure that the women and children are well provided for after his death. From an evolutionary perspective this makes sense, since it ensured that the family genes had a better chance of survival. Another interesting yet controversial example, is Condé's various accounts of incidents of rape which revealed how rape was not always perceived as a crime in Africa (or at least in the western part of it that is the focus of the novel). Segu is therefore very thought-provoking and challenging to Western sensibilities. The character development also stands out, as Condé meticulously transports readers into the heads of each protagonist, who are all to varying degrees flawed. She truly captures the essence of the spectrum of human psychology in her colorful characters. Equally impressive is the astounding level of cultural, historical, linguistic and geographic detail, which is not easy to convey in such an ethnically diverse and complex corner of the African continent. It is truly rare to see such an authentic, respectful, and thoughtful tale about Africa. This book is a must read if you are interested in and open to a different narrative about Africa, which likely challenges what you've been taught in your history class.
April 6, 2014
This is one of my all time favorite books. Fiction excels at letting us feel history. None does it better than Segu.
From Amazon.com:
"The year is 1797, and the kingdom of Segu is flourishing, fed by the wealth of its noblemen and the power of its warriors. The people of Segu, the Bambara, are guided by their griots and priests; their lives are ruled by the elements. But even their soothsayers can only hint at the changes to come, for the battle of the soul of Africa has begun. From the east comes a new religion, Islam, and from the West, the slave trade.
Segu follows the life of Dousika Traore, the king’s most trusted advisor, and his four sons, whose fates embody the forces tearing at the fabric of the nation. There is Tiekoro, who renounces his people’s religion and embraces Islam; Siga, who defends tradition, but becomes a merchant; Naba, who is kidnapped by slave traders; and Malobali, who becomes a mercenary and halfhearted Christian.
Based on actual events, Segu transports the reader to a fascinating time in history, capturing the earthy spirituality, religious fervor, and violent nature of a people and a growing nation trying to cope with jihads, national rivalries, racism, amid the vagaries of commerce."
From Amazon.com:
"The year is 1797, and the kingdom of Segu is flourishing, fed by the wealth of its noblemen and the power of its warriors. The people of Segu, the Bambara, are guided by their griots and priests; their lives are ruled by the elements. But even their soothsayers can only hint at the changes to come, for the battle of the soul of Africa has begun. From the east comes a new religion, Islam, and from the West, the slave trade.
Segu follows the life of Dousika Traore, the king’s most trusted advisor, and his four sons, whose fates embody the forces tearing at the fabric of the nation. There is Tiekoro, who renounces his people’s religion and embraces Islam; Siga, who defends tradition, but becomes a merchant; Naba, who is kidnapped by slave traders; and Malobali, who becomes a mercenary and halfhearted Christian.
Based on actual events, Segu transports the reader to a fascinating time in history, capturing the earthy spirituality, religious fervor, and violent nature of a people and a growing nation trying to cope with jihads, national rivalries, racism, amid the vagaries of commerce."
July 10, 2016
3.5/5
As a work of historical fiction, Segu is often tremendous. Following one family over 70 years of history from the late 18th century to the mid-19th, right at the beginning of European colonialism in inner Africa (which, ironically, was partially driven by the official end of slavery), but from the POV of a family who are intimately involved with the intra-African politics of the time; the power struggle between various kingdoms, the spread of Islam and Christianity colonializing both minds and narratives long before the guns get there, the attempts to adjust the old way of life to new situations... All stuffed with endless details of what came before, of history repeating, of ideas evolving. It's the sort of novel that should really come with a bibliography and footnotes, not because I doubt her, but because I want to learn more.
I mentioned slavery, right? The novel keeps circling the concept, not just in the sense of white Europeans sending black Africans in chains across the ocean and the emerging racism (modern racism being a 19th century construct), but in the slavery that was always there, the subjugation of defeated tribes to victors (the rise of new African kingdoms largely due to demand for slaves from white traders), of women to men, of wives to their husbands, of children to their parents. And all the various ways it's justified, normalised, treated as the Natural Order Of Things without the narrative calling it out. In short, the novel gets really uncomfortably rapey at times. Condé doesn't condemn or condone, just chronicles, almost as if she wants to call it all a circle of submission without spelling it out for the reader; the ideological virus of less-than-thou leading to one huge Stockholm Syndrome of négritude.
That's part of what makes me hesitant to give this a higher grade; the other part is simply that at 501 pages, the novel sprawls quite a bit, following a huge cast of characters to the point where she has to fast-forward a bit too often to let the reader get to know them all, and leaving us just before the shit really hits the fan. It's a good novel, it just doesn't grab me (and yeah, how dare I not be grabbed by human suffering, right?) as often as I'd like.
As a work of historical fiction, Segu is often tremendous. Following one family over 70 years of history from the late 18th century to the mid-19th, right at the beginning of European colonialism in inner Africa (which, ironically, was partially driven by the official end of slavery), but from the POV of a family who are intimately involved with the intra-African politics of the time; the power struggle between various kingdoms, the spread of Islam and Christianity colonializing both minds and narratives long before the guns get there, the attempts to adjust the old way of life to new situations... All stuffed with endless details of what came before, of history repeating, of ideas evolving. It's the sort of novel that should really come with a bibliography and footnotes, not because I doubt her, but because I want to learn more.
I mentioned slavery, right? The novel keeps circling the concept, not just in the sense of white Europeans sending black Africans in chains across the ocean and the emerging racism (modern racism being a 19th century construct), but in the slavery that was always there, the subjugation of defeated tribes to victors (the rise of new African kingdoms largely due to demand for slaves from white traders), of women to men, of wives to their husbands, of children to their parents. And all the various ways it's justified, normalised, treated as the Natural Order Of Things without the narrative calling it out. In short, the novel gets really uncomfortably rapey at times. Condé doesn't condemn or condone, just chronicles, almost as if she wants to call it all a circle of submission without spelling it out for the reader; the ideological virus of less-than-thou leading to one huge Stockholm Syndrome of négritude.
That's part of what makes me hesitant to give this a higher grade; the other part is simply that at 501 pages, the novel sprawls quite a bit, following a huge cast of characters to the point where she has to fast-forward a bit too often to let the reader get to know them all, and leaving us just before the shit really hits the fan. It's a good novel, it just doesn't grab me (and yeah, how dare I not be grabbed by human suffering, right?) as often as I'd like.
February 28, 2020
How did I ever study African literature without ever having heard of 'Segu?' I will never know. I am ashamed of myself. Maryse Conde was the winner of the Alternative Nobel Prize for Literature during the year that the Nobel Prize was wrapped in scandal. Her works are luminous and as I read more of her through the course of reading this book, I was more in love. A sweeping historical saga, 'Segu' is a must for anyone who has even the remotest interest in Africa. Or for that matter, in reading. In understanding how the forces of the world we live in have been shaped by religion and prejudice.
These days, after prolonged use of smartphones, I find my attention wandering, and I often can't get through the longer volumes. But having taken myself off social media, removed most of the distracting apps on my phone, I find my attention span is getting better. And 'Segu' doesn't task your attention - the prose is gripping and I was engrossed in Maryse Conde's detailed and nuanced exploration of Africa as the 'dark continent' slowly comes to terms with its eventual colonization. Throughout, her commentary on misogyny is a breathtaking illustration of a feminist at the peak of her powers. I loved 'Segu' and now I am trying to figure out a way to get the sequel, which sadly doesn't seem to be available here.
These days, after prolonged use of smartphones, I find my attention wandering, and I often can't get through the longer volumes. But having taken myself off social media, removed most of the distracting apps on my phone, I find my attention span is getting better. And 'Segu' doesn't task your attention - the prose is gripping and I was engrossed in Maryse Conde's detailed and nuanced exploration of Africa as the 'dark continent' slowly comes to terms with its eventual colonization. Throughout, her commentary on misogyny is a breathtaking illustration of a feminist at the peak of her powers. I loved 'Segu' and now I am trying to figure out a way to get the sequel, which sadly doesn't seem to be available here.
May 31, 2020
“Na deze wandaden zou de naam van Ségou van de aardbodem worden weggevaagd. Hooguit zou hij verwijzen naar een miezerig riverhaventje waar de wereld geen weet van had. ‘Ségou, waar ligt dat?’ zouden de mensen zeggen.” (p.572)Het baksteendikke epos vertelt de geschiedenis van Ségou, van de trotse Bambara, aan de hand van de nazaten en de familie van Dousika Traoré. In deel 1 ("De Aarden Wallen") duikt de eerste blanke op aan de oever van de Joliba (de Niger). Zeshonderd bladzijden en drie generaties verder storten Mohammed, Alfa Guidado en Olubunmi zich halsoverkop, verblind en vertwijfeld in de veldslag om Ségou te redden.
Als een bloedrode draad doorheen "De Aarden Wallen" gaat de opkomst vanuit het noorden van de islam, de strijd tussen vertwijfeling en zelfzekerheid. Wie zijn je broeders? Zijn dat je geloofsgenoten of je bloedverwanten? Kan je de lokale traditie verzoenen met de islam? In hoeverre moet je je volksaard beschermen tegen de ‘modernisering’ van dat geloof? En hoe zit het met de onderlinge verhoudingen tussen de Bambara, de Peul en al die andere volkeren in deze regio? Worden de tegenstellingen verscherpt of weggevaagd door de opkomst van dat nieuwe geloof uit het noorden?
Maryse Condé verpakt de grote historie van West-Afrika in een meeslepende familiekroniek die generaties omspant. Een familiestamboom achteraan helpt om het spoor niet kwijt te geraken en de vele West-Afrikaanse termen en benamingen worden achteraan verklaard, wat geen overbodige luxe is voor wie niet met deze boeiende regio vertrouwd is.
foto: tafereel aan de oever van de Niger (Joliba) in Ségou in 2002, (c) Benny VerberchtDe dubbeldikke pocketeditie van Ségou ligt al een kleine eeuwigheid klaar om te lezen. Hoewel het betoverende Mali een bijzondere plek in mijn hart inneemt en mijn vrouw destijds bijzonder enthousiast was over dit boek, had ik de coronacrisis nodig om er eindelijk in te beginnen. Ik ben verrast door de vaart die in dit boek zit en laat me met plezier weer onderdompelen in de herinneringen aan een van onze mooiste reizen ooit. Op naar deel twee!
* * *
In deel 2 van Ségou (“De verkruimelde aarde”) razen we in een rotvaart verder door de geschiedenis. Het eens machtige West-Afrikaanse rijk wordt hierin niet alleen door de opkomende islam bedreigd, maar ook door de bekerings- en veroveringsdrift van de Europeanen.
“Waarom konden volkeren niet gewoon binnen de grenzen van hun land blijven? Waarom droomden ze ervan meer plaats te hebben, te heersen, hun buren aan zich te onderwerpen?” (p.1055)We volgen de nazaten van Traoré in hun vragen en vertwijfeling, in hun grote en kleine geschiedenissen. Ze belanden in vreemde contreien, sommigen zelfs overzee, maar er zijn er ook die in het familiehuis in Ségou blijven wonen. Slechts twee dingen hebben ze gemeen: hun afkomst en het feit dat de geschiedenis hun levens grondig overhoop haalt.
Uiteindelijk volgen we Omar die als een heilige strijder, meer uit wanhoop dan gepland, een ultieme poging doet zijn thuisland te heroveren. Daarbij hoopt hij de volkeren van Mali te verenigen en de buitenlandse machtswellustelingen te verdringen.
“Kan de kleur van hun huid mensen verenigen?”, vraagt hij zich vertwijfeld af (op p.1096) en even is er hoop.
“Een heilige is een man als jij en ik, wiens waarheid op een gegeven moment de verwarring van de anderen verlicht.” (p.986)Maar de afloop is bekend. Ségou eindigt met de bezetting door de Fransen, het begin van de koloniale tijd.
Condés monumentale epos belichaamt de hoop en de tragedie van West-Afrika. De setting met de magisch klinkende namen van de diverse rijken en volkeren is heerlijk, de les leerzaam en het leest nog supervlot ook.
De chaos van deze voor vele westerse lezers onbekende geschiedenis wordt toegankelijk uitgelegd en de meeste relevante ideeën en theorieën die daarbij komen kijken, komen aan bod…maar dat valt nooit echt op, want Maryse Condé verpakt de geschiedenis als een spannend verhaal en dat wist me meer dan duizend bladzijden lang enorm te boeien.
Foto: zonsondergang in Ségou in 2002 (©Benny Verbercht)
July 26, 2020
L'Afrique, toute une région couvrant plusieurs pays actuels, tout début 1800. Histoire vraie d'un royaume qui a existé. D'une richesse culturelle fabuleuse, avec son fonctionnement élaboré, son art, sa culture très riche. Déchiré entre deux maux: islamisme envahissant et la traite des esclaves. Toute une merveilleuse organisation, multiple, avant son éradication par le colonialisme conquérant et vulgaire par le monde dit civilisé... Lu il y a 30 ans, envie de relire un autre roman de dette descendante d'esclave, historienne pleine de sensibilité et remarquable peintre de ce peuple décimé...
March 26, 2014
I can't find the hardcover library edition I actually read to list here. But I really enjoyed this book, and still find odd details from it popping into my head every so often.
August 23, 2021
The book does an excellent job of conveying the historical conflict and struggle between traditional ideology and foreign influences in West Africa, including the arrival of Islam and western powers in the region. At the same time, the central family saga spanning three generations was compelling, with distinct and interesting characters.
August 29, 2019
A powerful novel that in some ways parallels Gabriel García Márquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude; a novel documenting the ebbs and flows of a nation from it's own traditions to those imposed upon it, through the scope of multiple generations of one family - the Bambara Traores. Fate is often cruel and occasionally serendipitous. The Gods, in turns vengeful and benevolent, but even they begin to recede to the tides of outside forces. This novel is personal and intimate, it brings the reader into a world in which they may have no ties, but will quickly relate to the individuals, pull for the survival of this family and mourn for their losses along the way, even while still identifying certain actions as cruel or misguided. The Traores are not romanticized, but through them an entire nation of people are humanized for those that may not identify with their particular culture, religion, or history, but can identify with their individual struggles and love. This book, the first of two, does not have a definite ending, but viewed from a distance you can see how much has come to an end through the steady march of change.
December 30, 2008
A most amazing epic set in West Africa [along the Niger River] in the 19th century. You follow portions of the lives of a long series of characters, old and young, male and female. Rather disturbing to read about all the warfare and distrust between neighboring groups.
I had known nothing at all about the introduction of Islam in this part of the world. During the 19th century people and whole villages/tribes were converting to this foreign religion, and one thing it brought was the chance to learn to read and write.
We see images of slavery -- both on the African side and in the Caribbean -- through the eyes of two villagers who ended up being sold as slaves.
A remarkable book and the author must be remarkable too. She grew up in the West Indies but married a man from West Africa and lived there for a number of years, learning a lot of oral history from his mother.
I had known nothing at all about the introduction of Islam in this part of the world. During the 19th century people and whole villages/tribes were converting to this foreign religion, and one thing it brought was the chance to learn to read and write.
We see images of slavery -- both on the African side and in the Caribbean -- through the eyes of two villagers who ended up being sold as slaves.
A remarkable book and the author must be remarkable too. She grew up in the West Indies but married a man from West Africa and lived there for a number of years, learning a lot of oral history from his mother.
May 9, 2020
Segu (or Segou) is now a city and region in Mali, but it was historically one of two independent Bambara city states ruling quite a large area. This novel tells the history of Segu through several generations of one family. The book opens in 1797 and carries on through into the mid-C19th. The slave trade and the rise of Islam are major factors.
The family are mainly a patriarch and his sons, although his wives, concubines and grandsons also feature in minor roles. This means there are a lot of characters and it is difficult to identify with any of them, but they still help to humanise the often violent history.
The family are mainly a patriarch and his sons, although his wives, concubines and grandsons also feature in minor roles. This means there are a lot of characters and it is difficult to identify with any of them, but they still help to humanise the often violent history.
August 1, 2015
Segu is a brilliantly written novel. A great educational read due to its amazing historical scope and accuracy. Maryse Condé eloquently described the highly developed, sophisticated societies and cultures from which Africans were ripped from during the slave trade. I often found myself researching for more information about many of the details I leaned while reading this novel. Highly recommended.
February 15, 2012
Interwined a great deal of historical and cultural information in a very nicely paced way. I felt a sense of being there with some of the characters.
January 2, 2019
What a book this is!! A historical (albeit fictional) account of the onset of the decline of the Segou/Bamana/Bambara Empire, (one of the successor Kingdoms of the larger Mali Empire) the beginning of the conversion to Islam of the Bambara and Fulani people, contact with Europeans and much more.
As a history buff, this is golden stuff!! A meta commentary on race/ethnic relations between the various groups fighting to control the region - the rather unsurprising revelation that being black, despite coming from a significant civilization, still made one inferior in certain places.
But also a beautiful portrayal of the Bambara Culture. Not romanticized until it becomes something unrelatable, but also not seen through colonial lenses or outrightly dismissed as regressive/primitive. Just portrayed as it was, virtues, vices and all.
When reading, I felt like I was in that time period, walking along with the characters, a silent observer, visualising everything that went on. Hearing their words, feeling their joy and pain.. I have been soo taken by all these and more that I forgot the story - I wasn't conscious of the plot - I was just living in the moment. Flowing with the ebb and flow.
There are soo many themes in the book one cannot do it justice in the limited space of this post. This is one of those books that demands debates, instigates arguments, puts you in uncomfortable positions.
And I must point out there are many uncomfortable moments in this book!! Like, a lot!! The story is told from the perspective of the Traore men who are all flawed in various ways. It is perhaps because Ms. Conde doesn't shy from illuminating their flaws that elements of the book are disconcerting.
So I must warn you, some of the women do not fare very well, less so the female slaves. There are some deeply unsettling instances of rape that are told in an almost detached-a matter of fact-it was to be expected-way that is very jarring.
In fact, the whole story is told in this manner. Ms. Conde doesn't judge (though there is a bias towards the Segu) she just tells a story. And this is part of what gives the book it's power. You get immersed by the rich descriptions of the people, civilisation and feelings, fears, hopes and aspirations. When the tension builds up, you feel your heart racing. When a heart breaks, you sympathise because you understand the character.
The book is set in pre-colonial Mali as the Traore men experience the upheaval of the last few decades of the Kingdom. You know what will happen (plus if you are a history buff like me, you will actually research the real events and figures interwoven in this epic tale including the author herself) but still, this doesn't do enough to prepare you for how the book ends.
The key conflict as told in the book is one between traditional religion and Islam, which also underlies a tribal conflict. This is at once utterly fascinating but I fear would likely touch some raw nerves. But isn't that the whole point of art (and literature)? To get us to challenge our beliefs, (mis)conceptions, confront biases, and question prevailing narratives?
As a history buff, this is golden stuff!! A meta commentary on race/ethnic relations between the various groups fighting to control the region - the rather unsurprising revelation that being black, despite coming from a significant civilization, still made one inferior in certain places.
But also a beautiful portrayal of the Bambara Culture. Not romanticized until it becomes something unrelatable, but also not seen through colonial lenses or outrightly dismissed as regressive/primitive. Just portrayed as it was, virtues, vices and all.
When reading, I felt like I was in that time period, walking along with the characters, a silent observer, visualising everything that went on. Hearing their words, feeling their joy and pain.. I have been soo taken by all these and more that I forgot the story - I wasn't conscious of the plot - I was just living in the moment. Flowing with the ebb and flow.
There are soo many themes in the book one cannot do it justice in the limited space of this post. This is one of those books that demands debates, instigates arguments, puts you in uncomfortable positions.
And I must point out there are many uncomfortable moments in this book!! Like, a lot!! The story is told from the perspective of the Traore men who are all flawed in various ways. It is perhaps because Ms. Conde doesn't shy from illuminating their flaws that elements of the book are disconcerting.
So I must warn you, some of the women do not fare very well, less so the female slaves. There are some deeply unsettling instances of rape that are told in an almost detached-a matter of fact-it was to be expected-way that is very jarring.
In fact, the whole story is told in this manner. Ms. Conde doesn't judge (though there is a bias towards the Segu) she just tells a story. And this is part of what gives the book it's power. You get immersed by the rich descriptions of the people, civilisation and feelings, fears, hopes and aspirations. When the tension builds up, you feel your heart racing. When a heart breaks, you sympathise because you understand the character.
The book is set in pre-colonial Mali as the Traore men experience the upheaval of the last few decades of the Kingdom. You know what will happen (plus if you are a history buff like me, you will actually research the real events and figures interwoven in this epic tale including the author herself) but still, this doesn't do enough to prepare you for how the book ends.
The key conflict as told in the book is one between traditional religion and Islam, which also underlies a tribal conflict. This is at once utterly fascinating but I fear would likely touch some raw nerves. But isn't that the whole point of art (and literature)? To get us to challenge our beliefs, (mis)conceptions, confront biases, and question prevailing narratives?
November 14, 2016
Segu is one of those books that wins points for content and interest, and loses out due to its execution. If judging it alone on the fascinating background you discover, on the recreation of an untold history, on the evokation of a time and place, on the unearthing and revealing of culture, religion and a way of life, then Segu gets four stars. Unfortunately, its style and narrative, as well as its ponderous characters only gets two...three is a fair average and a good reflection of a book I enjoyed reading most of the time, learn a lot front, yet often felt frustrated and bored by.
The simply solution might simply be an editting one. Segu is a long, wordy book. It follows four brothers from a noble family in the Bambara town of Segu. Each one follows a picaresque path to an undignified death, each highlighting an element of life in Western African in the 1800s. The eldest goes to Timbuktu to educate himself in the ways of Islam while the next accompanies him but finds his calling as a merchant, returning to Bambara via Morocco. Both return wih wives they have gained through violent acts (rape and abduction), a common theme in the book. The next son is kidnapped and sold to slavers, dying in Brazil. The forth becomes a mercenary soldier, stumbling with Dickensian coincidence into the arms of the other son's widdow in the bustling slaver ports on the coast, all crackling with transition as the British attempt to ban slavery and various nations gather their forces in preparation for the scavenging of spoils.
Conde's characters are interesting, as are her plots. They are used to highlight the great events and shifts of the world at the time. They move through religions and geographical regions, giving us glimpses of places lost in time - Fez bustling in Morocco, Goree slaver's island with its mansions, the towns of great, disappeared African empires, the different European ports and monasteries that dot the coast and refuse any notion of nation, instead creating a world of business and profit based on the cheepness of human life. The acts and events in the book mirror that heartless, ruthless world, particularly in relation to the fate of women - one scene in Malobali's soldier life with a young girl is extremely graphic and disturbing. There is a instinctive agression that characterises the world of man, compared to the melancholic, passive tragedies that enfold the story's women. That is not to say Conde relegates her female characters into second place, some like the boy's mother are excellently drawn, strong personalities. Others suffer and die, suicide being a recurring symbol of man's oppression.
The problem is Conde tends to tell too much. Her character's thoughts and feelings are mapped out in wordy fashion where in most cases the reader could imply as much and more without help. Often it leads to repetition and unnessecarily long descriptive passages. Much of the subtlety of character is lost. It also means that some of the miniscule details about cultures and traditionals, the painstaking descriptions of place, costume and landscape, sound like a non-fiction text and the stories themselves lose their flow. The settings and characters are strong enough to allow them to speak without words. Unfortunately everything is always spelled out for us.
The four sons eventually end their stories and the children take over. Perhaps the most fascinating part, historically speaking, is the tension between Bambara belief systems and the encroachment of Islam. Muhammed, the son of Tiakoro (the eldest) comes to represent that struggle in the closing pages. He is the first to be denied his love and his lust, instead finding friendship and companionship among conflicting male counterparts - one who has married the one he loves, one who chooses not to believe in this new, powerful religion. In the end he is forced to choose between Segu and Islam, as forces are arrayed against it and signal the beginning of its end as a nation and a conqueror. The story ends fittingly at a crossroads in history, the younger generation lining up to fight for Segu's existence. Its a powerful end to an intriguing historical novel which, despite its narrative flaws, provides a fascinating window into a hidden space in history, putting into focus the world shifting events that were rumbling on the shores and in the old empires of that corner of Africa. 5
The simply solution might simply be an editting one. Segu is a long, wordy book. It follows four brothers from a noble family in the Bambara town of Segu. Each one follows a picaresque path to an undignified death, each highlighting an element of life in Western African in the 1800s. The eldest goes to Timbuktu to educate himself in the ways of Islam while the next accompanies him but finds his calling as a merchant, returning to Bambara via Morocco. Both return wih wives they have gained through violent acts (rape and abduction), a common theme in the book. The next son is kidnapped and sold to slavers, dying in Brazil. The forth becomes a mercenary soldier, stumbling with Dickensian coincidence into the arms of the other son's widdow in the bustling slaver ports on the coast, all crackling with transition as the British attempt to ban slavery and various nations gather their forces in preparation for the scavenging of spoils.
Conde's characters are interesting, as are her plots. They are used to highlight the great events and shifts of the world at the time. They move through religions and geographical regions, giving us glimpses of places lost in time - Fez bustling in Morocco, Goree slaver's island with its mansions, the towns of great, disappeared African empires, the different European ports and monasteries that dot the coast and refuse any notion of nation, instead creating a world of business and profit based on the cheepness of human life. The acts and events in the book mirror that heartless, ruthless world, particularly in relation to the fate of women - one scene in Malobali's soldier life with a young girl is extremely graphic and disturbing. There is a instinctive agression that characterises the world of man, compared to the melancholic, passive tragedies that enfold the story's women. That is not to say Conde relegates her female characters into second place, some like the boy's mother are excellently drawn, strong personalities. Others suffer and die, suicide being a recurring symbol of man's oppression.
The problem is Conde tends to tell too much. Her character's thoughts and feelings are mapped out in wordy fashion where in most cases the reader could imply as much and more without help. Often it leads to repetition and unnessecarily long descriptive passages. Much of the subtlety of character is lost. It also means that some of the miniscule details about cultures and traditionals, the painstaking descriptions of place, costume and landscape, sound like a non-fiction text and the stories themselves lose their flow. The settings and characters are strong enough to allow them to speak without words. Unfortunately everything is always spelled out for us.
The four sons eventually end their stories and the children take over. Perhaps the most fascinating part, historically speaking, is the tension between Bambara belief systems and the encroachment of Islam. Muhammed, the son of Tiakoro (the eldest) comes to represent that struggle in the closing pages. He is the first to be denied his love and his lust, instead finding friendship and companionship among conflicting male counterparts - one who has married the one he loves, one who chooses not to believe in this new, powerful religion. In the end he is forced to choose between Segu and Islam, as forces are arrayed against it and signal the beginning of its end as a nation and a conqueror. The story ends fittingly at a crossroads in history, the younger generation lining up to fight for Segu's existence. Its a powerful end to an intriguing historical novel which, despite its narrative flaws, provides a fascinating window into a hidden space in history, putting into focus the world shifting events that were rumbling on the shores and in the old empires of that corner of Africa. 5
June 29, 2024
3,5 ⭐️
Cette fiction historique se déroule au 19è siècle en Afrique subsaharienne, principalement au Mali et nous emmène jusqu’au Brésil…
Elle est écrite avec un Français difficile, on dirait le vieux Français, utilisant un vocabulaire qui aurait pu être substitué avec celui de nos jours. C’est une Saga sur plusieurs générations qui cite une quantité phénoménale de personnages dont on se pose la question en lisant : faut-il retenir leurs noms ou bien ils sont juste de passage dans cette fiction ?
J’ai appris sommes toutes beaucoup de choses sur :
- la pénétration des religions catholiques et musulmanes au Mali et en Afrique subsaharienne portées par les colons Européens qui ont tout fait pour protéger et développer le commerce des esclaves…ainsi que par les commerçants Marocains qui n’hésitaient pas à s’installer et épouser des femmes locales pour développer leur business.
- l’apport du Maroc au Mali à tous niveaux en accueillant des stagiaires et des apprentis qui en revenant au pays ont su installer des ateliers de travail du bois, de tissage et de traitement des peaux du bétail…
- l’esclavage qui était d’abord monnaie courante en Afrique subsaharienne avant d’être exporté ailleurs.
Cette fiction mérite lecture pour ces apports historiques.
Cette fiction historique se déroule au 19è siècle en Afrique subsaharienne, principalement au Mali et nous emmène jusqu’au Brésil…
Elle est écrite avec un Français difficile, on dirait le vieux Français, utilisant un vocabulaire qui aurait pu être substitué avec celui de nos jours. C’est une Saga sur plusieurs générations qui cite une quantité phénoménale de personnages dont on se pose la question en lisant : faut-il retenir leurs noms ou bien ils sont juste de passage dans cette fiction ?
J’ai appris sommes toutes beaucoup de choses sur :
- la pénétration des religions catholiques et musulmanes au Mali et en Afrique subsaharienne portées par les colons Européens qui ont tout fait pour protéger et développer le commerce des esclaves…ainsi que par les commerçants Marocains qui n’hésitaient pas à s’installer et épouser des femmes locales pour développer leur business.
- l’apport du Maroc au Mali à tous niveaux en accueillant des stagiaires et des apprentis qui en revenant au pays ont su installer des ateliers de travail du bois, de tissage et de traitement des peaux du bétail…
- l’esclavage qui était d’abord monnaie courante en Afrique subsaharienne avant d’être exporté ailleurs.
Cette fiction mérite lecture pour ces apports historiques.
November 21, 2010
This is an amazing novel, partly because of the incredible historical research that went into it. She takes her characters all over 18th and 19th century West Africa, and the detail with which she describes different cultures, languages, etc. is just incredible, and really believable. It's a great story. I give it 4 stars just because the characters are not quite as compelling to me as they could be, but it's a very well-told story. Fascinating whether or not you're interested in West Africa.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 299 reviews