In this week of literary news, our editors on the ground are bringing stories of triumph, mourning, and commemoration. In Kenya and Ghana, readers mourn the loss of pioneering feminist author Ama Ata Aidoo; in Canada, a Quebec initiative supports readers in finding more books by Indigenous writers; and in Oman, a lauded author brings home the prestigious International Prize for Arabic Fiction. Read on to find out more!
Wambua Muindi, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Kenya
The end of May seemed to position itself as a direct communication to geo-literary production history; on May 27, a bilingual anthology of East African short stories, The Heart is A Bastard, launched at the Goethe Institut Library, Nairobi. Edited by Elias Mutani and Zukiswa Wanner, the collection is a result from the Kenyan writing workshop under the auspices of the Univerity of East Anglia International Chair in Creative Writing. The inaugural chair for Africa, Zimbabwean author Tsitsi Dangaremba, expressed her delight over the launch, which includes stories in English and Swahili translations. Some of the emerging writers featured in the anthology include Gladwell Pamba—from whose story the anthology’s title is taken, Fatma Shafii, Nyasili Atwetwe of Writers Space Africa Kenya, Charlie Muhumuza, Noella Moshi, and Sia Chami. The anthology not only holds space for these writers but also represents the creative breadth of the region, while simultaneously embedding a language politics given its bilingual character.
However, this joy was dislodged by the unfortunate news of a writer’s death. On May 31, Ama Ata Aidoo, the Ghanaian author of Our Sister Killjoy (1977), a pioneering feminist novel, died at the age of 81. As such, Africa is mourning; Ghana is mourning and Kenya, too, is mourning the novelist, playwright, short story writer, and committed radical feminist, who wrote to assert the agency of African women within literary history. As reverential eulogies have been paraded across the world, the Kenyan literary community joined in the outpouring of grief in a country where her influence not only transcends her writing, but is also compounded by a teaching stint she had at the then named Kenyatta College, now Kenyatta University, as well as the literary contributions of her Kenyan-born daughter, Kinna Likimani. Where Austin Bukenya, a leading East African scholar of English and literature, for instance, dubbed her “Queen of African literature”, Mukoma wa Ngugi, the author of Nairobi Heat and son to Ngugi Wa Thiong’o, sees her as a “pillar” without which “the African literary tradition wobbles”. While Joyce Nyairo, an academic and a cultural analyst, references the short story “Something To Talk About On The Way To The Funeral” as praise of her storytelling genius, Yvonne Owuor lamented, in proper proverbial fashion: “A great, and giant tree that sheltered many beings has fallen”. Moreover, her writings, which among others, include The Dilemma of a Ghost (1965), No Sweetness Here (1969), Anowa (1970), and Changes (1991) cut across the genres to show the depth of her imaginative oeuvre and demonstrate the commitment—in different but related ways—to the African woman’s cause, through literature and in society. Rest in Power Mama.
Xiao Yue Shan, Blog Editor, reporting from Canada
June is National Indigenous History Month in Canada, marking a necessary occasion to honour, commemorate, and witness the long-repressed stories and experiences of Indigenous people, and leading to additional opportunities to discover the many gifts and contributions that these writers, artists, and Knowledge Keepers continue to pass on—which serve to open up and encourage deeper understandings of country, ecology, survival, and lineage. It is through such stories that one senses the lush richness of transiency, the unclear borders between the elements, and the layered depth of a moment as it reverberates, played by the instrument of history. And it has only intensified my understanding that the teller of stories and the listener of stories are captured in the same portrait, with equally powerful roles and responsibilities to ensure that the words go on, and that both these acts represent in themselves a kind of liberation.
Keeping in mind the need of additional resources for readers who want to begin engaging with Indigenous literature, the Librarie Hannenorak in Wendake, Quebec launched “En juin, Je lis autochtone” (In June, I Read Indigenous Writing), an incredibly wide-ranging initiative that aims to connect Francophone readers directly to books written by Indigenous authors and published by Canadian presses, while providing additional support to booksellers and librarians who want to do the same. Complete with a comprehensive reading guide (for both adults and children) and a program of events throughout the province, the website is a beautiful meeting-place for writers, readers, publishers, and everyone in between—providing invaluable information for not only Canadians who want to understand how to better access these works, but also any French-speaking individual that seeks a wider understanding of their literary landscape. Anglophone readers, however, needn’t feel excluded, as many of the books listed in the reading guide also have English-language editions.
In other French-language offerings, the Maison de la littéraire launched its digital platform, Le salon, a few weeks ago, and it has since curated and uploaded some incredible content on Quebecois literature, including a reading by Kim Thúy of her lauded book, Em; a masterclass with novelist Heather O’Neill, and poet Valérie Forgues reflecting on Suzanne Paradis at the historic 1970 Poetry Night. My favourite little corner, however, is a “hypermedia” project called “Clairvoyantes”, a literary oracle that responds to any inquiry with three cards, attached respectively to a figure, a place, and an object—each with their own narrative and insights. Between this triad of variegating interpretations, a tenuous, imaginary matrix can be drawn, instigating one of those brilliant instances where a public chaos and a private intelligence can conspire. As I am approaching my thirtieth birthday, I asked the cards what this next year will bring me, and I received the Tshishikushkueu (the Woman of Space), the Atelier, and the Fire: paradox, experimentation, and revelation.
Bridget Peak, Digital Editor, reporting from Oman
This month witnessed a historic moment in Omani literary history! On May 21st, Zahran Al Qasmi became the first Omani writer to win the International Prize for Arabic Fiction (IPAF) for his fourth novel The Water Diviner (also translated as The Exile of the Water Diviner). His previous works include Mountain of the Horseradish Tree (2013), The Sniper (2014), and Hunger for Honey (2017), as well as collections of poetry and short stories. The IPAF, in its 16th edition, has awarded Al Qasmi $50,000 in prize money in addition to ensuring that they will fund an English translation of the awarded work to eagerly await! This year’s five-strong jury was chaired by Moroccan writer Mohammed Achaari, who shared his reasoning for The Water Diviner securing the so-called “Arabic Booker” in this official announcement:
“Blurring the boundaries of reality and myth, the novel’s precise structure and sensitive poetic language are the conduit for compelling characters like the water diviner, who plays an essential role in people’s lives, yet simultaneously inspires their fear and revulsion. The Water Diviner transports us to the world, little known in the Arabic novel, of the riverbeds and the aflaj (water channels) of Oman, showing how natural forces influence the relationship between individuals, environment and culture.”
For an excerpt of The Water Diviner, translated by Nashwa Nasreldin, head over to our friends at ArabLit. We can only hope that a full-length translation will soon follow, spurring English translations of other seminal Omani works of literature, many of which are grievously unknown in the Anglophone world, but provide an illuminating glimpse into the singular way-of-life of Oman—a theme which permeates not only Al Qasmi’s novels, but also works of celebrated Omani authors Huda Hamad, Bushra Khalfan, Ammar Alnaaim, and of course, Jokha Aharhi, winner of the International Man Booker Prize in 2019 for Celestial Bodies.
Before signing off, I would be remiss not to remind Arab novelists that registration for the 10th Sultan Qaboos Award for Culture, Arts and Literature is now open! Winners in each category will receive a 100,000 OMR cash prize. You can find more information (in Arabic) on the prize here. Good luck!
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Read more on the Asymptote blog:
- Weekly Dispatches from the Frontlines of World Literature (June 2, 2023)
- Weekly Dispatches from the Front Lines of World Literature (May 26, 2023)
- Weekly Dispatches from the Front Lines of World Literature (May 19, 2023)