Showing posts with label novelists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label novelists. Show all posts
Saturday, 2 May 2015
Saturday, 22 November 2014
Tuesday, 18 November 2014
Friday, 18 July 2014
Nadine Gordimer: Farewell to a great spirit
Ngugi wa Thiong'o, The Mail & Guardian
Nadine and Ngugi arrested in Amherst! No, no, it was not the
case, but that’s how my wife, Njeeri, imagined the headlines in Kenya and South
Africa in response to the picture of Gordimer and me entering a police car
under the shadow of a heavily armed officer.
It was in 1991. Both of us were visiting the prestigious
college in Massachusetts, United States, at the same time. The visits had been
scheduled long before, but Gordimer’s presence coincided with the news of her
winning the Nobel prize in literature. Now she was not just another visiting
writer but a Nobel laureate. The crowds were curious. Amherst College arranged
a police escort, more for her than me, but at joint events we travelled
together.
Tuesday, 21 May 2013
Monday, 13 May 2013
Achebe The Native Intellectual
by Jeremy Weate, Chimurenga Chronic
There
Was A Country,
Chinua Achebe’s autobiographical account of the Nigerian Civil War,
has raised a dust storm of reaction in Nigeria and exposed the
unprepossessing tectonics of ethnicity. Opinions have been largely
divided by differing allegiances either side of the river Niger. What
is an outsider to make of it all?
In
the celebrated text The
Wretched of the Earth,
Frantz Fanon outlines three phases in the development of the “native
intellectual”. In the first phase, Fanon writes that
the native intellectual gives proof that he has assimilated the culture of the occupying power […] His inspiration is European and we can easily link up these works with definite trends in the literature of the mother country. This is the period of unqualified assimilation.
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Black, not Noir
Adam Shatz, London Review of Books
'That Smell’ and ‘Notes from Prison’ by Sonallah Ibrahim,
translated by Robyn Creswell
New Directions, 110 pp, £11.99, March, ISBN 978 0 8112 2036
1
When we first meet the nameless narrator of Sonallah
Ibrahim’s 1966 novella That Smell, he’s just been released from prison, but no
one is there to greet him, and he’s in no mood to celebrate. He remains under
house arrest, free to wander the streets of Cairo so long as he returns home by
dusk, when his police minder has to sign off on his curfew. Things could be
worse: he could be back in prison, where he remembers being beaten, ‘shaking
with cold and fear’. But when he looks for ‘some feeling that was out of the
ordinary, some joy or delight or excitement’, he draws a blank. On the night of
his release, the police throw him into a filthy holding pen because he has
nowhere to stay:
There were a lot of men there and the door kept opening to let more in. I felt something in my knee. I put my hand down and sensed something wet. I looked at my hand and found a big patch of blood on my fingers and in the next moment saw swarms of bugs on my clothing and I stood up and noticed for the first time big patches of blood smeared on the walls of the cell and one of the men laughed and said to me: Come here.
Thursday, 28 March 2013
Chinua Achebe: Without the story we are blind
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| Chinua Achebe |
Anthills of the Savannah (1987), the last novel the late
Chinua Achebe wrote, has a chapter with the title Impetuous Son. The impetuous
son is Ikem Osodi, poet and newspaperman, a character drawn from the skeleton
of Achebe’s friend, the poet Christopher Okigbo, a victim of the Biafran War
for independence.
Wednesday, 10 October 2012
An Interview with Alice Walker: “Go to the Places That Scare You”
Alice
Walker interviewed by Valerie Schloredt,
Toward
FreedomWalker’s writing is characterized by an ever-present awareness of injustice and inequality. But whether describing political struggle—as in Meridian, which deals with the civil rights movement—or meditating on the human relationship to nature and animals, as in her latest book, The Chicken Chronicles, her work conveys the possibility of change. In Walker’s vision, grace is available through love and a deep connection to the beauty of the world.
Sunday, 26 August 2012
Refuge for the wretched
by Percy Zvomuya, Mail & Guardian
The tiny Caribbean island of Martinique has bequeathed to the world great thinkers and writers. Most prominent, at least in Africa, is Frantz Fanon, one of the most important thinkers of the past century, whose text The Wretched of the Earth is routinely described as the “bible of decolonisation”. Then there is poet and politician Aimé Césaire, who, with the late Senegalese president Léopold Sédar Senghor, is a cornerstone of the black movement Négritude.
The tiny Caribbean island of Martinique has bequeathed to the world great thinkers and writers. Most prominent, at least in Africa, is Frantz Fanon, one of the most important thinkers of the past century, whose text The Wretched of the Earth is routinely described as the “bible of decolonisation”. Then there is poet and politician Aimé Césaire, who, with the late Senegalese president Léopold Sédar Senghor, is a cornerstone of the black movement Négritude.
Thursday, 17 November 2011
Yvonne Vera interviewed by Jane Bryce
Interview with Yvonne Vera, 1st August 2000, Bulawayo, Zimbabwe. Weaver Press
When I recently met Yvonne Vera, I had read her earlier works, Nehanda and Without A Name, only because the publisher had given them to a mutual friend in London. To date, all her novels have been produced by the highly respected Zimbabwe publishing house, Baobab Books, Harare. It is the fate of African writers who choose to publish their work on the continent to be less well-known internationally than those whose work is taken up by metropolitan publishers. Yet what I had read of Yvonne Vera’s work had left me with a burning desire to find out more about her, and this was a major part of my decision to attend the Zimbabwe International Book Fair, fifteen years after my last visit to the country in 1985.
When I recently met Yvonne Vera, I had read her earlier works, Nehanda and Without A Name, only because the publisher had given them to a mutual friend in London. To date, all her novels have been produced by the highly respected Zimbabwe publishing house, Baobab Books, Harare. It is the fate of African writers who choose to publish their work on the continent to be less well-known internationally than those whose work is taken up by metropolitan publishers. Yet what I had read of Yvonne Vera’s work had left me with a burning desire to find out more about her, and this was a major part of my decision to attend the Zimbabwe International Book Fair, fifteen years after my last visit to the country in 1985.
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