20 authors who’ll always stick with me (II)
11. Columbian Spanish-language author and Nobel laureate Gabriel Garcia Marquez is probably one of the most cited authors when discussing magical realism, a style of writing in which the magical or spiritual exists in narratives of ordinary life, and is common in postcolonial literature from multiple regions, including many books on this list. My favourite […]
11. Columbian Spanish-language author and Nobel laureate Gabriel Garcia Marquez is probably one of the most cited authors when discussing magical realism, a style of writing in which the magical or spiritual exists in narratives of ordinary life, and is common in postcolonial literature from multiple regions, including many books on this list. My favourite of his novels is also one of his most well known. One Hundred Years of Solitude is a history of the passionate Buendia family and the town of Macondo, where time seems to operate in ebbs and flows, and seems to have had a great deal of influence on Nigerian writer Helon Habila’s second novel Measuring Time.
12. Jamaican author Erna Brodber’s stream of consciousness novels are incredibly difficult to read but are rewarding if you are persistent. Louisiana is the first person narrative of a woman, Ella, whose parents had moved from Jamaica to the United States, when she was a baby. Employed by the Works Projects Association during the 1930s, to gather ethnographic information on the African American population in the state of Louisiana, Ella is unexpectedly initiated into a spirit possession trance and becomes a human recording device out of which multiple voices of the community speak. This novel, as well as Brodber’s novels like Myal and Jane and Louisa will Soon Come Home, explores alienation and hybridity in Caribbean characters and the importance of community in finding identity.
13. Nigerian author Balaraba Ramat Yakubu was among the first Hausa novelists that I read. Her often muckraking narratives present a woman’s perspective on marriage and argue the importance of women having an education and profession. Her novels Alhaki Kwikwiyo Ne and Ina Sonsa Haka were adapted into early Hausa films. Her recent novel Matar Uba Jaraba layers her social realist critiques of dysfunctional families into a spiritual story about a jealous second wife who uses charms to separate the children of the first wife: one twin loses his memory and is adopted by a trader who moves south. Although initially devastating to the family, this separation eventually broadens the family’s experience from Kano to the nation.
14. Nigerian author Ibrahim Sheme’s Bashir Karaye prize winning novel Yar Tsana is, in my opinion, probably the greatest “literary” Hausa novel I’ve ever read. Opening with and interspersed by moments of song from Alhaji Mamman Shata, the novel traces the life and challenges of a young girl Zainab who runs away from an unwanted marriage and takes on the new name of Asabe to enter the exciting but corrupting life of prostitution. Set in the 1990s, Asabe moves from town to town, fleeing government reforms, eventually finding herself in Lagos threatened by a drug-lord. While not downplaying the dangers of this lifestyle (indeed the consequences for Asabe are quite severe), Sheme’s portrayal is compassionate, believable and shows the complexity of choices women in this situation make. His use of language and dialogue are stunning.
15. I only came across late 19th century-early 20th century Indian poet, novelist, playwright, and Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore’s poetry last year when I stumbled across an e-copy of his translated book of poetry The Gardener on the internet. Tagore wrote in Bengali and translated many of his own works into English. His exquisite love for poetry often links the natural world to emotion. Tagore is up there with 13th century Sufi mystic and Persian poet Jalal Al-Din Muhammad Rumi as one of my favourite poets.
16. Indian novelist Salman Rushdie is no doubt a controversial, and at times irreverent, writer, but his fresh and playful use of English and striking storytelling ability make him worth the read. In his Booker prize winning novel Midnight’s Children, an unreliable narrator Saleem Sinai recounts his family history and the story of his life which began at midnight as India gained her independence from Britain. Saleem and the other children born in the midnight hour are mysteriously linked to each other and to the nation of India, their lives serving as both a metaphor for and commentary on the postcolonial state.
17. As high school students, we were required to read a certain number of novels, half of which we chose ourselves and half of which had to come from a recommended reading list. I picked British novelist Jane Austen’s early 19th century “novel of manners” Pride and Prejudice off the list. From the title I thought it would be a dull book, but once I started reading, I couldn’t put it down. I neglected all my other homeworks and read straight through the night until I finished the novel. Jane Austen’s light-hearted, touchy, and often sarcastic portrayal of English middleclass obsessions with marriage and class, found in her six published novels, sometimes reminds me of Hausa women’s literature, and I imagine Pride and Prejudice, which tells the story of five sisters whom their mother is determined to marry off, would appeal to Hausa readers if translated.
18. I strongly disagreed with Nigerian author Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani’s opinions about indigenous language writing in her essay “The Laureate’s Curse” which I reacted to in this column a few months ago, but I loved her Commonwealth Writer’s prizewinning fresh and contemporary novel I Do Not Come to You by Chance, a funny heart-tugging story of a young man Kingsley, who finds himself caught up with his unforgettable uncle Cash Daddy in the fast-paced game of international 419.
19. I’ve long revered American civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. for his tough and selfless form of passive resistance during the American civil rights movement, but I had gathered second-hand that his famous counterpart Malcom X was more interested in violence than equality. This is the danger of making assumptions second-hand. When I finally read The Autobiography of Malcom X compiled together by Alex Haley from a series of conversations and interviews with Malcom X, I was blown away by the humour, brilliance, and humanity of this activist. His descriptions of his early life as a foster child in a white home and a gangster and petty drug dealer on America’s East Coast, his revolutionary awakening when he encountered the teachings of Nation of Islam leader Elijah Mohammad in prison, and his passionate battle against injustice in America make it one of the greatest autobiographical works I’ve ever read. Near the end of his life, Malcom X became concerned with a more global pursuit of justice, as he grew disillusioned with hypocrisy within the Nation of Islam and moved towards Sunni Islam, making a pilgrimage to Mecca and a journey around West Africa.
20. When, as a young adult, I first read Kenyan author Ngugi wa Thiong’o’s call for writing in indigenous African languages, I found him a bit harsh and was more sympathetic with Chinua Achebe’s apology for writing in English. As I read more about postcolonial African history, had the privilege of listening to the great novelist and thinker in person, and began to discover for myself the pleasures of reading in Hausa, I did a nearly 180 degree about-turn, following Ngugi’s passionate appeal for the importance of writing in African languages. With the debut of his first Gikuyu novel Devil on the Cross, which he wrote on toilet paper while imprisoned for his involvement in popular political Gikuyu theatre, Ngugi swore he would never again write creatively in English. The fabulistic novel satirically skewers a grotesque and monsterous postcolonial ruling class who compete in a “Devil’s Contest” to see who is the greatest thief or robber. This novel, which is both hilarious and angry, is one of my favourites and a must-read for anyone interested in African literature.
When someone loves reading as much as I do, a list of this sort necessarily leaves off important works, but it’s a good start in recommending to my readers at least twenty of the authors that I love. I invite you to make your own lists—the first twenty books that come to your head, including, if relevant, popular “non-literary” writers— and send to me. I’d love to hear what you are all reading.