LONG-LISTED FOR THE MAN BOOKER INTERNATIONAL PRIZE
A rollicking new novel described as "Oliver Twist in 1970s Africa" (Les Inrockuptibles) from "Africa's Samuel Beckett . . . one of the continent's greatest living writers" (The Guardian).
It's not easy being Tokumisa Nzambe po Mose yamoyindo abotami namboka ya Bakoko. There's that long name of his for a start, which means, "Let us thank God, the black Moses is born on the lands of the ancestors." Most people just call him Moses. Then there's the orphanage where he lives, run by a malicious political stooge, Dieudonne Ngoulmoumako, and where he's terrorized by two fellow orphans--the twins Songi-Songi and Tala-Tala.
But after Moses exacts revenge on the twins by lacing their food with hot pepper, the twins take Moses under their wing, escape the orphanage, and move to the bustling port town of Pointe-Noire, where they form a gang that survives on petty theft. What follows is a funny, moving, larger-than-life tale that chronicles Moses's ultimately tragic journey through the Pointe-Noire underworld and the politically repressive world of Congo-Brazzaville in the 1970s and 80s.
Mabanckou's vivid portrayal of Moses's mental collapse echoes the work of Hugo, Dickens, and Brian DePalma's Scarface, confirming Mabanckou's status as one of our great storytellers. Black Moses is a vital new extension of his cycle of Pointe-Noire novels that stand out as one of the grandest, funniest, fictional projects of our time.
Alain Mabanckou was born in 1966 in Congo-Brazzaville (French Congo). He currently resides in Los Angeles, where he teaches literature at UCLA, having previously spent four years at the University of Michigan. Mabanckou will be a Fellow in the Humanities Council at Princeton University in 2007-2008. One of Francophone Africa's most prolific contemporary writers, he is the author of six volumes of poetry and six novels. He received the Sub-Saharan Africa Literary Prize in 1999 for his first novel, Blue-White-Red, the Prize of the Five Francophone Continents for Broken Glass, and the Prix Renaudot in 2006 for Memoirs of a Porcupine. He was selected by the French publishing trade journal Lire as one of the fifty writers to watch out for in the coming century. His most recent book is African Psycho.
I'm really curious to know the reason behind the choice of the title for the English version (that will be released on June 6th). Indeed I'm pretty sure
there's a wink somewhere for us to see
: from the French Petit Piment(literally, 'little hot pepper', which is the main character nickname after some... hmm... hot pepper affair, lol) to the English Black Moses (which is the name given by a priest to the MC), we seem to embrace all the different parts of our dear boy, contradictions and all.
Petit Piment relates the life of Moïse, a young Congolese, from his childhood in an orphanage to his adventures in Pointe Noire, Congo's capital. We follow him during the time when religion becomes forbidden due to the rise of Socialism, and see how his life is impacted by these changes.
I very much enjoyed how refreshing Petit Piment was.
Indeed whilst some readers were disappointed that Alain Mabanckou seemed to give the treatment of several serious issues a glossy shine, on the contrary I found his writing incredibly appealing.
I savored every tiny piece of the discrete humor
used to make fun of - and condemn - the corrupt politics and the violent head of school - which does not mean I merely forgot how unfair and difficult life was for our main character and for some of the other characters.
Moreover, I don't think for one second that the issues dealt with - slavery, abuse, prostitution, poverty, propaganda, to name a few - have been erased by the irony and the distance with which Moïse portrayed them. At the end of the day,
Moïse stays a child trying to understand how to interpret the complicated world around him, he makes mistakes, he often analyzes situations with a certain naivety
, but his disapproval is stated pretty clearly. Some parts made me want to throw up - it involves necrophilia and eating cats, so, yeah, brace your heart ; other made me FURIOUS - oh, the hypocrisy! - and I sometimes smiled so big it hurt - I do like my dark humor, thank you.
Why only 3.5 stars, then?
Well first of all because I rarely felt emotionally invested, not really. I liked Moïse and Bonaventure, but their portrayal often lacked that little something more to make them unforgettable. The last 30% made it HARD for me to suspend my disbelief. I can't go into details, but in my opinion the whole narration crumbled at that time (because hellooo, it doesn't make any sense given that it's a 1st POV and narrated from the FUTURE). I did like the ending, though.
Bottom Line
: If Petit Piment reads like a farce at times, beware the moment when reality catches up with you, because it hurts. Despite a plot that became a bit nonsensical along the way, Alain Mabanckou convinced me to read his other novels with his compelling writing and the splendid way he wrapped up his story in the end.
There are many books for which if I was editor, I would have told their author's to give the work another year. It is that kind of book. Great promise but it loses its way in second half. Plus, it should probably have been much bigger
3.5 I believe that the rating would have been higher if it was the first Mabanckou’s book I've read.
Black Moses is sparkling with greatest AM’s qualities - satire, dark humour, political absurdities, ability to address heavy issues with irony and wisdom, refers brilliantly to African folklore, Judaeo-Christian tradition, literature...
All that is great however, after reading Tomorrow I'll be Twenty and, exquisite in my opinion, Broken Glass I want more from him than seeing again not only the same motives but almost same characters I've seen in those two books read earlier...
Black Moses may not be for everybody. If unwieldy character names put you off, for example, you’ll be put off right from the start with this one: Tokumisa Nzambe po Mose yamoyindo abotami namboka ya Bakoko, or, in shorthand “Moses.” If you’re not familiar with the repressive politics of the Congo and feel that you’re missing out, you may want to brush up on it first (and even then, you won’t truly catch every reference).
Have I frightened you off yet? Hopefully not, because this is a surprisingly accessible book. Our feisty protagonist, Moses, left at an orphanage age 13, when he sets out with the twin “bad boys”, Songi-Songi and Tali-Tali, is sort of a coming-of-age story and sort of a romp through Congo-Brazzaville and Zaire upheavals. Throughout this romp, colorful characters emerge: the octogenarian embalmer, for example, whose proclivities are a little…ummm…slanted, the secretive cleaning woman with a Cuban solider father and a surprising past, the madam of a house of ill repute, the kindly orphanage priest who vanishes one day, and, of course, scores of corrupt politicians.
There is laughter here, overlaying years of grief and disillusionment, and there is courage that emerges from so much loss – of fathers and mothers, father and mother substitutes, friendships, and temporary sanctuaries. My lack of historical knowledge of the region meant that certain allusions sailed over my head, but having said that, the book stands on its own, a Dickens-like tale of an orphan and the adventures that none of us should ever be forced to endure.
It all began when I was a teenager, and came to wonder about the name I' d been given by Papa Moupelo, the priest at the orphanage in Loango: Tokumisa Nzambe po Mose yamoyindo abotami namboka ya Bakoko. A long name, which in Lingala means: 'Thanks be to God, the black Moses is born on the earth of our ancestors' as it still inscribed on my birth certificate today.
Book 11 of 13 for me from the 2017 Man Booker International longlist.
Alain Mabanckou was a finalist in the previous author (rather than individual book) version of the Man Booker International in 2015. Following that I read perhaps his best known novel, his Rabelaisian 2005 book Verre Cassé (Broken Glass) – see my review - https://www.goodreads.com/review/show..., a novel consciously influenced also by the classic The Palm-Wine Drinkard. My review concluded “At face value a rather simple and crude bar-room tale, but there is a lot of literary merit going on underneath, not all obvious to the reader, particularly in translation.”
Now his 2015 novel Petit Piment (literally: Little Pepper) has been translated, as Black Moses [*], also by Helen Stevenson, and has been longlisted for the 2017 Man Booker International.
[* pet rant – the title character has two main nicknames in the novel – Moses, which he dislikes and, later, he adopts the name Little Pepper – the original title uses the latter so the English translator/publisher has chosen to use the former]
The translation reads very smoothly – perhaps overly so. I noted in my review of Broken Glass that what Mabanckou describes as language that stretches French grammar to the limit (https://www.theguardian.com/books/aud...) didn’t come across like that in English. That said Mabanckou has praised Stevenson and said “In English, if you’re missing something it’s maybe just…10%” (http://publishingperspectives.com/201...) so perhaps my view is unfair. Stevenson’s own perspective on the challenges of translating his writing was:
“Alain's literary voice is so strong, so rhythmic, the words he uses carry it entirely; I find that simply translating them honestly, without strain, with facility, is enough. It’s an attempt to let the writer speak, just in my language.” (https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...)
Black Moses is set, as with Mabanckou’s other novels, in and around Point-Noire the Republic of the Congo / Congo-Brazzaville (NB the former French colony – not the larger Democratic Republic of the Congo, formerly Belgian, in which Conrad’s Heart of Darkness is based).
Moses is aged 13 when the novel starts, living in an orphanage, where he was left at birth by his unknown parents. The orphanage was originally founded by European Christians, but as the novel opens at the end of the 1960s, the country has just been self-proclaimed as the Marxist-Leninist People's Republic of the Congo. The feared Director of the orphanage, Dieudonné Ngoulmoumako, takes advantage of the political situation to ban the eagerly-anticipated weekly visits to the orphans of the priest Papa Moupelo, and to fully embrace the new regime, turning his room into the centre of the National Movement of Pioneers of the Socialist Revolution of Congo, praising the new regime in the orphanage's weekly newsletter, and promoting his own family members to senior positions.
As Sabine Niangui, a long-serving helper at the orphanage who goes out of her way to look after Moses, tells him, now 'orphanages are considered laboratories of the revolution.'
For his first 13 years at the orphanage Moses' closest friend is Bonaventure, who arrived at the orphanage at the same time, and who is convinced his biological father will one day land in a plane and take him away. But latterly Moses becomes, almost accidentally, allied to the fearsome twins Songi-Songi and Tala-Tala (what was the use of telling them apart when they were constantly together and wore the same clothes) who rule amongst the boys and even intimidate the wardens, after he laces their food with hot pepper in relation for them terrorising Bonaventure.
Far from taking revenge the twins come to respect him and adopt him as their right-hand man, rechristening him: We're calling him Little Pepper because he proved his worth with pepper. As the political pressure on the orphanage increases, the three escape to Point-Noire where they set up a street gang, displacing the previous top-dog who fancied himself as a Robin-Hood type figure.
Later Little Pepper becomes friendly with a Zairian brother owner, Madame Fiat 500, and her girls. But when the political changes in the country impact first the street gangs and then Madame Fiat, Little Pepper's world disintegrates:
I was at my wit's end, I'd lost all sense of time, and it was probably around then that I started to feel gaping holes in my head, hearing noises, like all those people running around inside it, echoes of voices from empty houses, voices not unlike those of Papa Moupelo and Sabine Niangui, the twins, but most of all Madame Fiat 500 and her ten girls. After that, I remembered nothing, not even who I was.
To recover his sanity, Little Pepper visits first a French-trained psychiatrist and, when that fails, a traditional healer who gave me cricket's piss to drink, and green mamba blood, toad's spit, elephant hair mixed with kaolin and sparrow's turds and ends the book having come neatly full circle.
While this was an enjoyable read it was also ultimately unsatisfying and one of the weaker books on the MBI longlist in my view. As Neil's review (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) notes the narrative is rather unbalanced. The orphanage story takes up half the book but doesn't really get anywhere. Another quarter is taken with the stronger part, Little Pepper's adventures in Point Noire, but this is too rushed for it to get close to the character-depth, lyrical-heights and literary-references of Broken Glass. And the story of his mental disintegration isn't an at-all convincing first person account of mental difficulties (for that see e.g. the excellent The Storyteller by Kate Armstrong).
If I took anything at all from the novel it was personal nuggets entirely unrelated to the main story. This line on the twins ran true to my own experience as a twin: what was the use of telling them apart when they were constantly together and wore the same clothes, and while I obviously knew that the name of my favourite food Marmite is taken from a French cooking pot (pictured on the label) I hadn't realised that the etymology of the French word came from an old term for hypocrite (the lid on the pot meaning it hides its contents while cooking):
There is something strange about the balance of this book. If you read the blurb here on Goodreads, it gives you a break down of the initial plot and then says "What follows is...". This suggests an introduction followed by a longer tale that expands on "what follows". However, the actual book is in two parts of almost exactly equal length. I didn't read that blurb until I reached the end of part one, but I turned to it then because I genuinely felt that I had spent half a book reading the introduction and was wondering when then real story was going to start. The issue for me is that the "real story" that starts in part two then feels rushed. I think I would have felt more comfortable with a part one that was one quarter the length it is and a part two that was 2-3 times longer than it is.
There is also a significant change in style between the two halves with part two being much wilder and weirder, whereas part one is pretty much a standard story.
That said, this is an interesting story about a boy growing up in People's Republic of Congo in the 1970s. Part one tells us about his time in an orphanage and part two about his time in Pointe-Noire. As I've already said, to me part one felt like scene setting even though it was actually half of the book. Then, in part two, the author really goes to town with a bizarre, larger-than-life tale that I won't spoil by relating any of here. It's a book about identity and about who we are versus who we make ourselves.
I enjoyed reading this, but I can't give it more than 3 stars because, to me at least, it felt so unbalanced.
Questo romanzo narra la storia di Mosè, soprannominato Peperoncino (in realtà ha un nome lunghissimo: Tokumisa Nzambe po Mose yamoyindo abotami namboka ya Bakoko, che in lingala vuol dire: Rendiamo grazie a Dio, il Mosè nero è nato sulla terra degli antenati, ma viene accorciato in Mosè) da quando, per difendere l'amico fraterno Bonaventure dai gemelli Songi-Songi e Tala-Tala, lo mette in grande quantità nelle loro scorte alimentari nascoste sotto i loro letti per punire i due bulletti. Sì, perché Mosè e Bonaventure vivono in un orfanotrofio da dove assistono impotenti alla trasformazione del Congo in una repubblica popolare, che impedisce loro di rivedere Papà Moupelo, il prete che faceva loro catechismo e a cui erano affezionati come a una figura paterna. Fuggito dall'orfanotrofio assieme ai gemelli, Peperoncino comincia a vivere per le strade di Pointe Noire e viene praticamente adottato da una maitresse, chiamata Mamma Fiat 500. Ma Peperoncino è di nuovo sfortunato, perché in Congo qualche anno dopo c'è una campagna politica per cacciare via le prostitute zairesi, che si trasforma in massacro: nelle gole di Diosso vennero gettate numerosissime vittime della campagna Pointe-Noire senza puttane zairesi. Da quel momento Peperoncino comincia a bere e a perdere la memoria, e la narrazione diventa confusa, ma molto ironica. Peperoncino va a farsi curare sia da un dottore che ha studiato in Francia che da un santone locale, ma la sua situazione non migliora in nessun caso. Una storia agrodolce raccontata da un narratore inaffidabilissimo, con uno stile accattivante. Sicuramente leggerò altro di Mabanckou.
Black Moses was yet another of my Man Booker International Prize 2017 Longlist reads, and I can quite understand why this didn't make the shortlist. Although it is an enjoyable and easy read for the most part, there were issues I had with it and overall it didn't really leave much of a mark on me.
It follows young Moses (whose full name is far too long to type), as he tries to get by in the orphanage he's grown up in as it's taken over by an overtly political director, before making his escape to join a gang of young boys on the streets of the Congolese port town Pointe-Noire.
I don't really have much to say about this book to be fair. If I attempted to go into detail about this book, I would be at risk of spoiling it, and I don't like to do that as you all probably know. What I will say is that I found the pacing of this book very odd, and actually detrimental to my enjoyment of it overall. The book is only 199 pages, and the first 100 pages are solely focused on Moses's time at the orphanage. After that, the rest of his story (and life essentially up until the age of 40) are crammed into the remaining pages. I found I couldn't keep up with the passage of time, and felt like this made the story feel very rushed and confusing at points. I also found that a lot of Moses's character was lost in the second half of the book, and that he became less clear in his motivations and less likeable.
Overall I wouldn't say this was a bad read, it was entertaining and quick to get through, but I wouldn't pick it up again and I wouldn't rave about it by any means.
reading around the world one book at a time 2024: congo
This one was a disappointing read simply because I have no idea where it was headed the whole time. The protagonist is Moses, who as of the beginning of the book has lived his whole thirteen years in a catholic orphanage — just before the People’s Republic of the Congo becomes the new normal: the orphanage becomes an asset and a display of the power of the Marxist-Leninist party, which does its utmost to turn away all religious figures as well as people from neighbouring countries (especially Zaire, what it now called the Democratic Republic of the Congo) or different tribes.
As the orphanage undergoes all these changes, Moses runs away with two twins and is swept up by their charisma (or is a pawn under their thumb) and they move to Pointe-Noire where they set up their gang.
This an many more things happen in the novel, and we see how society changes in the three decades of the People’s Republic of the Congo’s power through the eyes of our protagonist.
Despite it being an easy book to read (the narration flows immaculately) I cannot help but think I am missing something. I’ve heard great things about this author, and the book disappointed me because I had high expectations, even though even I don’t know of what exactly. Maybe I should have read it in the original French, or even in Italian, just to check whether the problem for me was the translation. I’m unconvinced.
A little book that is quite inventive in it's structure and style. The first half is about life in an Congolese orphanage at Loango. The narrator is 13 years old and things are changing in the country. The teaching moves from the religious to the government slogans of socialism. Moses escapes with two fellow orphans and they reach Pointe Noire where they run a local gang. Moses meets a local madam and lives with her for a while before moving into a job on the wharves. He then suffers from some sort of mental illness before, at the age of 40, returning to Loango which is now a prison for the criminally insane. The book has humour and grief in tons as it covers the lose of friends/peers/mentors, the need to reinvent yourself to survive in a land of corruption and nepotism, and the fate of those who cannot escape.
This was a surprisingly enjoyable and quick read considering it's main theme is loss. The main character, Moses, starts life with the loss of his parents and is brought up in a Congolese orphanage on the cusp of the revolution of the 70's. Again and again throughout the book, Moses is faced with loss, which eventually culminates in a loss of self.
Although there were several characters and story arcs that I really enjoyed, I didn't feel terribly attached or emotionally invested at any point. I think this may have to do with the style the book was written in, which felt somewhat distant from events. It's interesting that I read this right after Black Leopard, Red Wolf. They're incredibly different books, but there were also so many similarities. Particularly in the style, which was first person narrative, but with a stories within stories feel that felt distant for me. There was also just a general vibe from the characters, which I'd call somewhat flippant or sarcastic. Both were even set in the Congo!
Overall, I don't have any real complaints about the book, the structure was a little too tidy / wrapped up for my tastes, but that's just personal preference. I also suspect the translation was a little overkill. It felt like certain terms could have been left in French for emphasis. Some of the things translated were ridiculous...Venus of Milo?! It left me wondering what else might have been lost in a too literal translation.
Solid book about growing up in a Congolese orphanage. First third of the novel concerns Moses and his day to day; second third is about Moses after he and the twins escape, and his relationship with the women in brothel (mostly maternal); the final third of the novel concerns Moses's deteriorating mental health due to malnutrition. I wish the book, rather than going into that final third, had expanded the first two sections because they were so rich and illuminating and interesting, and the last part of the book...wasn't.
I could not connect with this story at all. The last 50 pages or so were the most interesting. I felt like this was the writer's outline to the real story.
Livro bom é aquele em que você flui nos pensamentos e nem consegue reparar os recursos técnicos de narrativa que o autor usou. É esse o caso aqui! Falaram como se fosse um Oliver Twist africano mas não achei comparável a nenhuma história que eu tenha ouvido falar. Me lembrou um pouco o Gabo talvez, principalmente a última parte. Os elementos da cultura congolesa ali, genial! Sem peso! Talvez leria de novo, com certeza daria de presente 🎁 Recomendo fortemente
I've read this book in it´s spanish edition as Ají Picante (where you can find the review), which is not linked as another edition, but as a different book. In case any Goodreads Librarian happens to see this review, they could probably correct this flaw, and include the link.
He leído este libro en su edición en castellano Ají Picante (título adaptado del original francés Petit Piment), que no está incluido como una de las ediciones sino como si fuera un libro diferente. En caso que algún Librarian de Goodreads llegara a ver esta reseña, tal vez podría corregir esta falla, e incluir el vínculo correspondiente.
Si la lecture de Petit Piment était relativement agréable, il me semble que justement, c'est de piment que ce livre semble manquer. Le narratif de l'enfant des rues africain, il me semble, a été travaillé avec beaucoup plus de puissance chez d'autres auteurs (Monémembo, Kourouma). Je pourrais cependant comprendre comment ce livre offre une vision d'un pays d'Afrique qui n'est pas plongé dans un bain de sang, contrairement à Allah n'est pas obligé et L'aîné des orphelins. Néanmoins, il est difficile de ne pas faire de rapprochements entre Petit Piment et Chronique des sept misères, bien que ce dernier soit un roman antillais plutôt qu'africain. Tous deux racontent la vie d'un enfant du marché qui jardine et finit par développer une certaine démence. Un goût de déjà-vu reste sous la langue pendant la lecture, et les caractéristiques formelles des Chroniques étaient bien plus intéressantes. En effet, pas de mots africains, pas d'oralité, mais plutôt un français international standard, même dans la bouche de la petite racaille du marché de Pointe-Noire, et un récit qui se déroule de façon très linéaire, très conventionnelle. Je ne pense pas que les auteurs francophones africains doivent absolument mettre une dose massive de folklore dans chacune de leurs phrases, mais ce récit manquant d'originalité aurait peut-être bénéficié d'un peu plus d'audace formelle.
Book 4 of 2019. Set in 1970s Congo – Brazzaville, Mabanckou’s Black Moses is a brilliant novel about hope in a world that is quickly losing its grip on the idea of self-governance. Moses, who has an interestingly long name given to him by a priest he adored and lost, must first survive an orphanage in Loango, where his mother abandons him as an infant. He then has to face Pointe-Noire, by all means, an unkind city where he goes in the company of fellow young escapees. He is determined to leave behind the dictatorship, injustice, and nepotism of the orphanage that seems to mirror what was happening in their country.
His escape into Pointe-Noire is, obviously, to no haven. He goes from trying to scrap his way through the day to day survival of street urchins, to the kindness and accommodation of Zairean sex workers and ultimately to ‘losing his mind.’ It turns out that the whole narration is a reflection on his life from a psychotic asylum where he is held by the state, yet, it seems, it’s the country itself that has completely lost it.
Mabanckou’s writing is a joy to read. Its simplicity has a charm to it. This is definitely another addition to my highly recommended reads of 2019. And again, this is a translation that not only won the English Pen Award but was also a Man Booker International Prize 2017 finalist. https://www.goodreads.com/review/edit...#
Around the World Reading Challenge: CONGO === I was super curious about this one, but I'm not sure I really 'got' it, or understood the point. It's a fairly short book that covers ~30 years of the main character's life, and I found the pacing to be really off. Perhaps this was intentional, but the passage of time is really muddy and I was often super unclear when certain events where happening, especially because the narrative jumps around a lot. I never really felt like I got to know Moses at all, such that I never really connected with him or what he was going through. There was also a super graphic and fucked-up description of murdering and eating a cat, which was almost enough to make me light this book on fire, it was so horrifying. Some interesting bits, but this didn't really feel complete to me.
Young Moses’s childlike optimism clashes with harsh reality in a memorable coming of age story. Mabanckou’s novel deals with Moses’s life from the age of 13 to young adult, the first half set in an orphanage just outside Pointe-Noire in the Republic of Congo. Reviewers inevitably compare it to Dickens and Twain in its recognition of the harshness of life, but it’s setting and historical context make it very much it’s own thing. Though its dark humor shines through it is balanced by the background of a dysfunctional society dominated by corruption, poverty, political instability and tribal rivalry.
I am forever grateful for the bestie and all the audiobooks she makes for me with the RAtW books we find. It helps me more than she will ever know and she is just so amazing to listen to, very soothing.
O texto de Mabanckou me fez refletir sobre a ideia de orfandade e as tentativas de preencher uma ascendência subtraída através de afetos, crenças e partilhas inusitadas. O Pimentinha, protagonista do livro, busca e logo encontra os limites desse tipo de ascendência ao longo de sua vida. Invariavelmente, o destino e o mundo parecem jogar contra. Há, porém, alguns momentos decisivos na narrativa que mostram avanços decisivos na vida de Moisés: a coragem de aprontar uma contra os valentões de seu orfanato, uma fuga, a gentileza inusitada com uma prostituta e o derradeiro homicídio que tem um quê de trágico e apoteótico. A narrativa faz pensar também sobre o Pimentinha como uma personificação do Congo (ou mesmo de outras nações africanas), que também se viram afastadas de suas raizes pelas demarcações e línguas coloniais, vendo ainda muitos se aproveitarem da caricatura de uma ascendência étnica para justificar diversos desmandos e tensões étnicas. Apesar da advertência – procedente, diga-se – de Mia Couto de que esse é um livro universal, não acho justo com a obra suprimir-lhe também esse traço.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Yritin etsiä kirjastosta luettavaksi sellaista romaania Kongon demokraattisesta tasavallasta jonka olisi myös kirjoittanut sieltä kotoisin oleva henkilö. Toive osoittautui haastavaksi, ja tämän siitä toisesta Kongosta tulevan kirjankin olin sivuuttaa kannen vuoksi, sillä se vie ajatukset pikemminkin keittokirjaan.
Pikku Pippuri on mainio pieni kirja maan lähihistoriasta henkilöhahmojen kautta kuvattuna - sitä en tosin ymmärrä, miksi suomennoksen kuvauksessa pitää jo kertoa koko juoni.
Moisés Negro acompanha a jornada de Tokumisa Nzambe po Mose yamoyindo abotami namboka ya Bakoko, um nome bastante longo que significa “Graças a Deus, o Moisés negro nasce na terra de nossos ancestrais”. É o retrato da República do Congo nos anos 70, com a revolução Marxista a tomar conta do país e a impor o seu regime autoritário. Moisés é uma criança órfã, abandonada num orfanato que também funciona como colégio interno. Tenta, diariamente, sobreviver aos excessos de um director abusivo e corrupto. Moisés consegue fugir e passa a viver na cidade de Pointe-Noire, no meio de criminosos de toda a espécie. Gostava de ter gostado mais desta leitura, mas não gostei das personagens (e os nomes gigantes e que não nos dizem nada complicou um pouco a leitura), e embora alguns dos temas abordados sejam interessantes não consegui retirar grande prazer desta história.
It is a coming-of-age story, where are political circumstances (corruption, nepotism, arbitrariness) shown with the satirical elements and the story is set in the time from the mid 60s until the 90s. The time period is not explicitly mentioned, but it can be seen from the story (the disappearance of a priest, the mention of Cuban soldiers - consultants, the mention of Brussels, Congolese Party of Labor...) and from sequence of event. We follow the life of Moses, at first in an orphanage and later as a member of the gang in the city and how these political circumstances / changes affect his life. The author exposes many problems (prostitution, poverty, propaganda, slavery, dispute between tribes ...) but he doesn't deal with them critical - issues are introduced as fact, as an everyday reality and this reality is seasoned with irony.
The story is interesting, some passages are painfully alive and beautiful ... but unfortunately, I didn't feel the book as a whole, especially the third part (the story is divided into four parts) which is a crucial for the story development, seems very weak and unconvincing. But the last part is simply brilliant.
The author is unknown to me, but I am interested in his previous works.
Black Moses tells the story of Moses, a Congolese orphan living at an Orphanage at Loango. We meet Moses at 13yo as he is coming of age in a changing country. The Orphanage, once run by a religious community is taken over by a corrupt socialist regime forcing Moses to run away to the streets of Pointe-Noire where he lives as a street urchin and petty thief until meeting a Zairean Madame who takes him in. An incident with the Madame sends Moses spiralling into mental collapse and back to the Orphanage he grew up in, now converted into a prison for the mentally ill.
The book is sectioned in 2 parts; the first part encompassing Moses’ life at the orphanage up until the age of 13, and the 2nd part covering his life outside the orphanage from age 13 to 40. The first part which follows Moses’ formative years is far more engaging than the latter. Moses is a keen observer of the world around him and through his narration and the unpacking of the other characters, he is able to paint for the reader a clear picture of the changing fabric not only of the Orphanage where he lives but of the country. Mabanckou injects humour into Moses’ narration which makes it easier to ingest the heavier themes of parental abandonment, loss, corruption, shifting ideologies as well as mental illness.
The second part of the book however fell flat for me. In a few chapters, Mabanckou attempts to cover 27 years of Moses’ life and there is a lot there that feels very rushed and incomplete. The story is told in disjointed chunks that left me frustrated and in a rush to finish the book. Characters appear and disappear without warning, I found it difficult to establish their purpose in the narrative. The entire book, which was a reflection of Moses while in the asylum also seemed too well structured and coherent to make it believable.
Overall, this is a more impressive read that my previous Mabankou, Tomorrow I'll be Twenty. Although some themes cut across which at one point felt like the books merged and I was re-reading the same book only with different character names, the translation was lot smoother and the meandering a lot less. It was a refreshing change.
Último livro do ano de 2020 da TAG, o ano. Às vezes um livro é descrito de forma a atrair leitores mas dependendo da forma como é feito pode estragar a leitura. Nesse caso é feita uma comparação com Dickens, o livro é descrito como o Oliver Twist do Congo. A TAG já fez isso esse ano nos apresentando um outro romance com a tetralogia napolitana. O resultado broxante foi o mesmo. A narrativa é feita em enormes saltos no tempo e num romance tão curto faltou tempo para que eu me afeiçoasse a qualquer personagem. Achei fraco e desconexo com aquele final aspirando a ser impactante ou surpreendente.
Histórico de leitura 01/01/2021
"Eu me sentia à vontade com Ngampika. Era um velhinho amável que me tratou de maneira informal logo de início e com quem eu me divertia tomando uma boa taça de vinho de palma , porque a ciência dos brancos, acreditava ele, tinha muita mais termos incompreensíveis do que curas efetivas."
"Tudo começou nessa época em que, adolescente, eu me perguntava a respeito do sobrenome que Papai Moupelo, o padre do orfanato de Loango, tinha me dado: Tokumisa Nzambe po Mose yamoyindo abotami namboka ya Bakoko. Esse longo sobrenome significa em lingala, “Demos graças a Deus, o Moisés negro nasceu na terra dos anscestrais”, e ainda está registrado em minha certidão de nascimento..."
Enjoyable, fast clip that doesn't go very far, more of a mood and a sense of place than a story per se, though the storytelling draws up all sorts of little anecdotes that come and go by. Wish it was extended another 100 pages-- felt like the narrative arc should have connected somehow but it didn't. Not quite the post-modern chaos of Tram 83 but still had that sense of life bringing what it does with little context, explanation, or follow up (absolutely no foreshadowing, with no apologies), which I think captures an epistemology that shapes worldview and story in Central Africa. These novels help me better see through that lens, carried along, bounced about, present without being mindful, lyrical.
Black Moses is set mostly in Pointe Noir, Congo-Brazaville, and I think it would help to know the city and its politics (for example: to have an opinion about the mayor or the revolution) to fully immerse in this. I think that's part of what made the story a little disjointed; there may have been a level of mocking and satire over which I skimmed the surface.
Petit Piment sonne très Mabanckou, et pour ceux qui ont lu «Demain j'aurai vingt ans», les 100 premières pages du livre auraient pu très bien faire partie de cet autre ouvrage du même auteur. On y revoit un petit garçon, surnommé Petit Piment, dans un orphelinat, vivre et observer le monde et le commenter tel un plus grand. Petit Piment vivra tout au long de sa vie divers abandon ce qui l'affectera plus tard. Il aurait pu être le petit de DJVA qui écoutait sa radio et les notices politiques, et comprenait et commentait le monde naïvement et justement. Est-ce que Mabanckou s'écrit lui-même, dans ces jeunes garçons?
La seconde moitié du livre, lorsque Petit Piment est jeune adulte ou adulte, est la plus intéressante, mais la plus maladroitement précipitée. Le contexte africain mets en place tous les compléments circonstanciels nécessaires au déroulement et au dénouement de l'histoire, sans tomber dans le pathos politique et de violence que d'autres ouvrages peuvent apporter, mais j'aurais tellement aimé que Mabanckou passe plus de temps à décrire l'endroit. Par pur plaisir personnel, parce que parfois, l'Afrique me manque.