"Born in the Caribbean, I automatically became a Caribbean writer. The bookstore, the library, and the university rushed to pin that title on me. Being a writer and a Caribbean doesn't necessarily make me a Caribbean writer. Why do people always want to mix things up?"
Employing poetic minimalism and his characteristic style, Dany Laferriere has written a meta-textual narrative exploring nationalism and identity. The narrator, a fictionalized version of the author, has thought of a brilliant title, the name of the book the reader holds, and sells the idea to a publisher. The rest of the short text (English translation by David Hormel is only 182 pages) consists of loosely connected reflections, interactions, and seemingly 'random' moments in which the narrator becomes a sensation in Japan and sparks controversy over representation, authenticity, and authorial voice.
Although he knows little of Japan (or Asia, for that manner) beyond a few writers (the poet, Basho, helps structure the narrative through numerous references and as part of an argument for writing as a universal experience), the narrator meets with a Japanese pop-star, is filmed for a short special by a Japanese crew, meets old friends (who tie him to his past, although its intriguing that the Haitian past is less clear to the narrator), and enjoys reading Basho's poetry while sitting in the tub.
Although Laferriere occasionally describes Japan (and the stereotypes of authenticity we bear) in less than flattering terms, it is clear that the author is making a larger point about writing and national identity. Instead of defining a writer by their place of birth, race, or even the country they reside in, the readers should "repatriate" them as one of their own, see the connections between literature around the world that transcend language, culture, race, and geography. Interestingly, this is quite meaningful in how we often impose a Haitian label on the works of the author when, in reality, identity is far more complex and Laferriere is more than a "black" or "Haitian" writer. Some of these points made by the author echo earlier sentiments from previous novels by Laferriere regarding identity politics, but seem even more relevant in the 21st century given how transnational and interconnected the world has become.
While reading this short novel, I could not help but think of Ishmael Reed's brilliant satire, Japanese By Spring, which is significantly different in style, theme, and subject. Both novels employ Japanese cultural allusions, history, and politics for satire and social commentary. Reed, of course, focuses on academia and the 'culture wars' of yesterday, while Laferriere is more experimental here and pushes against nationalism and singular identities imposed on writers. Nonetheless, both embrace a multicultural future where everyone incorporates something into their culture from other parts of the world and authenticity becomes an illusion.
As with previous works, Laferriere's novel contains numerous literary allusions, uses the idea of film and photography, retains a sense of humor, and recalls Haiti. Midori and her circle of Japanese girlfriends also bring to mind the young women of Dining With the Dictator, which illustrates continuity and universality. Indeed, one of the more stirring passages in the text, working against claims of Haitian exceptionalism, alludes to Vodou and agricultural work songs of the Haitian peasantry to demonstrate how people of the earth are the same everywhere. Haitian Vodou and painting even show up regarding Bjork and an art museum in Montreal, and more specifically in the nostalgic adolescent memories of the narrator's friend, Francois. In spite of the numerous times the narrator refers to Haiti, it nonetheless buttresses the author's claims on how identity is fluid, transnational, or even multicultural, just as Ishmael Reed's Japanese-influenced novel suggests.
Some Favorite Quotations
"When someone doesn't go back home for so long, origins lose their relevance. What good is coming from a place if you don't even speak the language?"
"When people start conjuring up their origins, I literally find it hard to breathe. We're born in one spot, and afterwards we choose our place of origin."
"That's another thing I detest: authenticity. A real restaurant. Real people. Real things. Real life. Nothing more fake than that. Life itself is a construct."
"It wasn't news to me that literature doesn't count for much in the new world order. Third-world dictators are the only ones who take writers seriously enough to imprison them on a regular basis, or even shoot them."
"I'm almost proud of knowing a Greek who doesn't know who Plato is. Besides, I can't stand all that propaganda about Greek philosophers--give me an enigmatic Japanese poet any time."
"That's what makes people suspicious of interracial romances: they wonder if it's really them or their culture that interests their partner."
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