As fans of Ishmael Reed's masterpiece novel, Mumbo Jumbo, Naoki Urasawa's Twentieth Century Boys,as well as Chris Carter's Millennium (although the second season was not exactly in the vein of what Carter would have done), we finally read Foucault's Pendulum. This is a novel we endeavored to read a few years ago on a Kindle but due to its length and subject matter, a text like this is meant to be read in physical form. Umberto Eco has created the ultimate anti-occult, anti-conspiracy theory book using a conspiracy and invented Tradition. This zany tale involves everything from Jewish mysticism, alchemy, Ism'ailism, and Candomble to the Templars, Rosicrucians, Paulicians, Nazism, Freemasonry, telluric currents and the Jesuits. It is also an excellent work for the bibliophiles and book editors, since the Plan concocted by the 3 Italian editors is really a masterful work of erudition and throws a number of references to major texts in the history of Western literature, esotericism, and even popular culture (Mickey and Minnie Mouse, for instance).
In terms of the novel's structure, most of it is really Casaubon narrating the previous steps that led to him staying in the Musée des Arts et Métiers in Paris after hours to witness an occult gathering of various Diabolicals (believers in various strands of occultist knowledge who come to believe in the Plan concocted by Belbo, Casaubon and Diotallevi). Occasionally, journal entries or literary pieces from the computer, Abulafia, of Belbo, provide additional narration of events that shape the novel. By the end, the three book editors, who initially approached the subject of the Plan with an inventive sense of humor, find themselves trapped in a whirlwind of curious and dangerous events. Along the way, Belbo is forced to revisit his memories of the latter days of Fascist Italy and lost opportunities while Casaubon tries to find another, deeper, meaning in the plethora of invented esoteric currents mixed together to in a deep way.
While Umberto Eco did not seek to undermine the racial and Eurocentric biases that Ishmael Reed highlighted with Jes Grew, he managed to produce an intellectually sophisticated look at how the occult mind works and distorts to create new realities to make sense of their zeitgeist. This is why for each period, newly invented "Tradition" is adapted to make sense of the world in the search for a higher truth. Perhaps more of the Diabolicals should have thought like Casaubon and Lia did about their own philosopher's stone...
Keigo Higashino's Malice is a whydunit page-turner we read in one night. Short, breezy yet very suspenseful, this murder mystery focuses entirely on motive. It's pretty clear who the culprit is in this story, but understanding his motives for killing Hidaka becomes a mystery in itself. The culprit has constructed a series of lies and planted evidence about why he committed the deed. In uncovering the truth of this case, our sleuth, Kyoichiro Kaga must confront his own demons from his stint as a teacher and explore the theme of bullying and pure "malice" that accompanied it in the childhood of the victim and killer. Like the other novel by this author that we've read, we suspect that a keen interest in the emotional and psychological state of murderers is a key part of the writer's interest in the genre. It allows him to deconstruct the murder mystery and focus on other elements like the "why" of it all. In this case, it largely succeeded, despite our initial reservations. The story is full of just enough misdirects, intrigue, suspense, and emotionally-charged episodes to retain our interest.
Although we are rather late to the game, we wanted to briefly write about our favorite books of 2025. Although we did not read as much fiction as we would've liked, we did rekindle our love of of mysteries. We also read some intriguing histories about different parts of the world. Hopefully in 2026 we will catch up on science fiction novels and other genres.
1. The Decagon House by Yukito Ayatsuji. As part of our renewed interest in whodunits and mystery novels, The Decagon House was the perfect combination of an ingenious (and macabre!) whodunit involving a mystery club at a Japanese university. The book reads like an homage to all the classic British and American detective fiction of yesteryears while still being fresh.
2. The Tokyo Zodiac Murders by Soji Shimada was another favorite read of 2025. This mystery contains a great combination of occult themes involving astrology and alchemy while our sleuth, an astrologist, solves a crime committed several years ago. We were less fond of the other work of Soji Shimada translated recently, but this one is a classic.
3. Basil II and the Governance of Empire by Catherine Holmes was one of our favorite historical studies of 2025. Since we are always interested in that apogee that precedes the inevitable decline or fall, Basil II's reign in Byzantium was of great importance for the medieval Roman Empire. However, our sources for this seminal reign are disappointingly few compared to other periods in the annals of the Byzantium. Holmes does a great job analyzing Basil II's reign nonetheless.
4. Anacaona’s Gift: Cotton and the woven arts of the 11th to 17th century Caribbean by Joanna Ostapkowicz was another great read of the year. We have been interested in this topic for a few years now, ever since reading a study by Sued-Badillo on indigenous women in the Antilles that referenced a study by a Puerto Rican graduate student on textiles. Unfortunately, it looks like that earlier study was never published or completed, so Ostapkowicz's work is filling a large gap in the study of Taino material culture.
5. Angkor and the Khmer Civilization by Michael Coe. The most recent edition of this lovely book is richly illustrated and provides an excellent overview to the history of Angkorian Cambodia. This part of Southeast Asia has quickly become one of the most interesting to us.
6. Les racines du sous-développement en Haïti by Benoit Joachim is one of those classic texts in the study of Haiti we skimmed in the past, but only read in toto in 2025. It raises a number of interesting questions whilst seeking to elucidate the roots of Haiti's underdevelopment. Sadly, some of the questions raised by the author have not been pursued or explored further. But the growth in the interest of the imposed debt and Haiti's ongoing current crises have made Joachim's study very relevant.
Although we read it a few years ago in the work of Denham and Clapperton, it somehow escaped our attention until recently. We are speaking of, naturally, an Arabic poem penned by Muhammad al-Amin al-Kanemi, the founder of the Shehus who have ruled Borno after the fall of the Sayfawa. In this case, we found the poem by al-Kanemi intriguing for its resemblance to Kanuri praise songs from the period of the Sayfawa dynasty. In this case, one sees a song or verse poem about the martial prowess and victory of al-Kanemi against Bagirmi (and other unnamed foes). This, naturally, brings to mind Kanuri praise songs for the mai, yerima or galadima for similar military victories or skills. Some of the metaphorical language used by al-Kanemi is also quite rich and draws on what must have been some of the standards of Borno's Arabic poetry and oral literature. For instance, references to "forests of spears" when referring to his large army is quite evocative or to the hyena bring to mind Kanuri praise songs referring to lions, bush cows, and the rogondimi snake. Moreover, metaphors and similes comparing al-Kanemi's favorite mistress, rescued during this lengthy campaign (over 6 months away from Kuka, or Kukawa) to Indian silks are rather well-done. Indeed, this personal element in which al-Kanemi celebrated this reunion with a lover is a personal dimension to Borno's written literature that is not easily found. This makes it very much a personal statement even as it celebrates the contributions of other military chiefs or officials like Tirab. Perhaps this favorite mistress was the mother of the future Shehu, Umar? Last, but certainly not least, the song from 1821 refers to the palace of the Bagirmi sultan facing an attack from al-Kanemi's troops. This is another piece of evidence for Borno's role in the sacking and pillaging of Massenya, the Bagirmi capital.
Enjoy a poem by Oswald Durand with Vodou as a central theme. It certainly features an interesting use of repetition and rhythm
Sur le morne lointain, semé de blanches cases, Le tambour qui rugit le chant mystérieux Du magique vaudoux, aux divines extases, Où l’on immole un bouc, où l’on brise des vases, Enivre les papas, qui battent, furieux, Le tambour qui rugit le champ mystérieux Sur le morne lointain, semé de blanches cases.
En sons sourds, sibyllins, du gosier des sambas, L’improvisation pleurant les dieux antiques, Réveille les vieux morts qui gémissent là-bas, Et guide les danseurs dans leurs lascifs ébats. Les adeptes fervents écoutent, frénétiques, L’improvisation pleurant les dieux antiques, En sons sourds, sibyllins, du gosier des sambas.
Dans le fond où Legba gouverne les yeux mornes, [73] Au pied du saint autel qu’entourent les houncis, Dont les lugubres chants s’entendent dans les mornes, On conduit le bouc noir, le bouc à quatre cornes, Qui penche son front ceint de rubans cramoisis, Au pied du saint autel qu’entourent les houncis, Dans le fond où Legbas gouverne les yeux mornes.
Une sainte terreur emplit le lieu divin. On ne voit que l’éclair de la mortelle lame. Pour plaire au dieu vaudoux, le grand prêtre devin Donne à boire aux élus le rhum mêlé de vin, Brise le vase rouge et fait envoler l’âme… On ne voit que l’éclair de la mortelle lame… — Une sainte terreur emplit le lieu divin.
Sur le morne lointain semé de blanches cases, Toujours le tambour dit le chant mystérieux. Mais l’antique vaudoux, aux magiques extases, Plus n’égorge le bouc, plus ne brise les vases. Les papas ne sont plus, qui battent, furieux, Le tambour qui rugit le chant mystérieux Sur le morne lointain, semé de blanches cases.
Arnold Antonin's René Depestre: On ne rate pas une vie éternelle is a fascinating documentary. Perhaps one of his better projects, this one benefits from extensive interview footage with Depestre himself. A compelling speaker and one who has experienced much of the major movements of the post-WWII years, Depestre explains his life and work in the context of literature, politics and exile. Since is nearly 100 years old, each chapter of Depestre's long life receives section of the story, beginning with his Jacmelian childhood. Depestre's adventures in Europe, both in France and behind the Iron Curtain, plus his travels in Latin America and the "Global South" demonstrate his place and contributions to Communist, anti-colonial, and literary movements.
While the film could have benefited from including more interviews with people who know Depestre in Cuba, Haiti and Europe, especially those who could have added another perspective on Depestre's Cuban period, Antonin's documentary includes the testimony and interviews with Haitians like Suzy Castor, Michel Hector, and Pierre Buteau to furnish more historical context or additional perspectives. Antonin seamlessly fuses Depestre's poetry with the film, too, giving the viewer several opportunities to appreciate Depestre's literary work or maybe encounter poems they may not be familiar with. Nonetheless, to better corroborate some of Depestre's claims about, for instance, the Padilla Affair, or to dig deeper into his polemic with Alexis and the intricacies of the Haitian Left's internal conflicts, this documentary would have required interviewing far more people (many of whom are, alas, probably deceased). Without this additional context and other perspectives, we are relying almost entirely on Depestre himself, whose political and personal biases may have occluded or omitted aspects of his political career or activities.
In spite of these problems, it is excellent to hear Depestre's story "straight from the horse's mouth." The struggles of his seamstress mother, his youthful political activities with La Ruche, or the incredibly tense interview with Francois Duvalier are engaging episodes of his life. To think he could have been "domesticated" by the Duvalier regime with an offer of a diplomatic post is frightening, yet illustrates how shrewd and cunning Duvalier was. The unsavory experiences in today's Czech Republic were another early indication of political danger for Depestre whilst Cuba, perhaps the most interesting chapter, is seen as a disappointment after the Padilla Affair. Depestre, however, saw something worthwhile and beautiful in the Cuban Revolution and the way it brought together so many intellectuals, writers, and activists. His quip about Fidel and Che being like Don Quixote was also quite amusing, and perhaps tragically accurate. A biography of Depestre is simply a must.
Seishi Yokomizo's work is always worth reading. This time, our hero, Kosuke Kindaichi, must solve the murder of three beautiful sisters on an island populated by descendants of pirates and escaped convicts. The girls, the granddaughters of a fishing chief who once dominated the entirety of Gokumon island, who is frequently compared to Hideyoshi, are in danger after the preferred heir to the family business dies after returning from service in World War II. The other male heir, however, is said to be alive and his return from Burma is expected. Nonetheless, after his late friend warned him of the danger his sisters will be in, Kindaichi visits the island and tries to prevent and solve the murders. It is a fun novel with impossible crimes, suspense, and plot twists. This one in particular really shocks the reader once our detective protagonist unveils the truth.
However, one must note some minor quibbles. At times, the plot advances without any smooth transition. And things are mentioned out of nowhere in terms of Kindaichi's personal life (no spoilers). It would also have been interesting to see more use of the branch Gito family in the plot and more explanation on how one of the murders (the last one) was committed when, presumably, the killer was never alone for long. The islanders themselves, however, emerge as a strong community of quirky, rural people. Somewhat isolated, even they will be, presumably, swept up by the changes of postwar Japan. As Sanae herself indicates, the type of authority her grandfather once exerted may not survive in this future, so the reader is seeing a town in which one person, whose pursuit of wealth trickled down to benefit all, actually failed the island. Without revealing too much of the plot, the novel offers a subtle critique of a certain type of personality and social relations of wealth and power in this remote island community.
Léon-François Hoffmann's chapter in Haitian Fiction Revisited, "The Indian Element in the Haitian Collective Consciousness" is an interesting essay on an important topic that is often overlooked or neglected. While the theme of the Indian in Spanish Caribbean literature and history has received a far more thorough treatment and analysis, the role of the indigenous past and its legacy in Haitian identity and literature is not often discussed. This, of course, is partly a reflection of the greater presence and legacy of the indigenous Caribbean in places like Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. Nonetheless, as the first independent state in the Caribbean and one that revived the indigenous name for the island while also pioneering historical research into this indigenous past by 19th century Caribbean authors (Nau, for instance), Haiti deserves a second look.
Hoffmann's chapter endeavors to do this, mainly through an analysis of the function and character of the Indian theme in Haitian poetry, drama, fiction and, to a lesser extent, ethnology and history. Hoffmann's occasionally ironic commentary on some of the more extreme claims by Haitian authors of a Taino influence in Vodou or Haitian culture more broadly reflect his likely reasonable skepticism, particularly in the penchant of some Haitian authors to make these claims without presenting a shred of evidence. Nonetheless, he was not so dismissive in its entirety, merely pointing out some of the problematic assertions of Alexis, Maya Deren, and the fanciful or imaginative nature of claims of a Taino influence. One wishes he offered a more thorough analysis of Hermann Corvington's "historical vulgarizations" on the island's indigenous caciques, especially since those texts are so difficult to find today. However, he also found traces of the island's indigenous people in Haitian poetry that alluded to the use of zemis in Vodou, although this in itself does not mean Vodou practices were influenced by living "Tainos." Still, the intriguing literary references show that the Haitian, including those from non-elite backgrounds, likely possessed some degree of interest in the island's precolonial inhabitants.
One wishes the author had also addressed the claim by some Haitian authors to Indian ancestry a little more deeply. Madiou, Comhaire-Sylvain, and others, for example, seem worthy of mention and some attempt at historical analysis to understand how and why identification as "Indian" appealed to some Haitians. The political implications of specific uses of the "Indian" theme in Haitian literature and politics may also be worthy of deeper study. Especially, in 1983, the Duvalier regime's attempt to create an Indian-themed national holiday and to commemorate that legacy with a statue to the Unknown Indian in the capital. Yet, a few years later, when the Duvalier regime fell, the statue honoring the Indian was also toppled alongside that of Columbus. Was the Duvalier dictatorship's attempt to capitalize on the island's Indian past and legacy a move to gain legitimacy and establish its legitimacy, which was under challenge and then rejected by the masses of Port-au-Prince? And were moments of parallelism and identification with Indians, particularly their tragic history, linked to the US Occupation of Haiti and other moments when a Haitian government was perceived as too eager to serve imperialist interests? There is a lot to consider here, and perhaps, one day, the "Indian" them will be revisited in a similar broad context.
Georges Sylvain's Cric? Crac!: Fables de La Fontaine racontées par un montagnard haïtien et transcrites en vers créoles is a fascinating work. More of a reimagining or adaptation than a faithful translation, Sylvain Haitianizes La Fontaine while satirizing and reflecting upon Haitian society. While several stories or fables are recognizable, they usually have Haitian settings, include Haitian Creole proverbs, and allude to historical or social factors of Haiti life. For instance, setting some stories during the reign of Emperor Soulouque, using Bois-Verna as a setting, or referencing popular songs of the day throughout the fables. The best fables are those with direct implications to the state of Haitian society. For instance, the tale of the shepherd and his two goats who mistakenly thinks he can, through contraband and illegal trade at the port, become wealthy, learns the hard way to forsake a life of dishonesty. Clearly, the widespread practice of contraband was a recognized ill of Haitian society and the economy to Sylvain.
Similarly, one of the last fables includes a farmer telling his three sons to work hard and maintain their farm, also passing on a story of buried treasure from colonial times. The sons dig and search persistently, but after failing to find it, continue to cultivate the land left by their father. The three brothers become prosperous and overtime, learn that the real treasure was land and their labor to make it prosperous. Similarly, the tale of the woman from Bois-Verna who dreams of selling milk and becoming a wealthy food vendor who dresses up for the balls in Bel-Air, learns the hard way to not get distracted by dreams when in the middle of her task. These vignettes and fables in Creole and French offer a poignant social commentary on the problems facing the country at the beginning of the 20th century. Of course, they are filtered through the lens of an elite male writer who borrows from the montagnard narrator and Haitian oral traditions to offer this perspective.
Other fables reference the belief that the poor or lower-classes should stay in their place or avoid the the corrupting influence the state, usually through animal fables. Unsurprisingly, there is a strong sense of justice as well as a conservative stance reflected in these tales. Ultimately, the lower-classes are supposed to know their place, be productive (useful, laborious), and stay out of politics or intrigue. Vodou, surprisingly, makes an appearance here or there or in the story when referencing music or popular customs. However, Sylvain seems ambivalent about these aspects of Haitian culture, perhaps simply including them because they were a real part of everyday culture in those times. Nonetheless, it is interesting to finally read this and think back on the lodyans of Lherisson and Antoine Innocent's novel. Written around the same time, each of these 3 authors wrote a "national" literature that reflected Haitian language, culture, spirituality, and worldview. Lherisson, despite not completely writing in Creole, was perhaps the most successful in terms of capturing the linguistic question while offering a more successful satirical look on the state of Haiti.
Markham's undoubtedly dated translation of Ollanta: An Ancient Ynca Drama from 1871 is an interesting read. Firmly believing that the play was preserved orally from precolonial times, probably during the reign of Topa Inca Yupanqui or Huayna Capac, Markham sees the play as one of the few or only surviving theatrical works from the time of the Incas. Indeed, we know from sources such as Garcilaso de la Vega and the eventual colonial suppression of it after Tupac Amaru's rebellion that theatrical works from and about the Inca past were preserved. Sadly, the version of Ollanta, here based on the surviving manuscripts written down in the 1700s and 1800s, appear to be a condensed or incomplete version. Inexplicably, ten years pass before the eventual reunion of the lovers Ollanta and Cusi Coyllur. The battles between the general sent by the Inca to defeat Ollanta after his revolt are quickly glossed over. One would think that the original narrative included more scenes or episodes for a fully fleshed story. The play also seems to contain an implicit critique of Pachacuti for his excessive punishment of his daughter yet the Inca is presented as the source of all moral authority and order. Why is it that his son, the Topa Inca Yupanqui, who eventually pardons Ollanta for his revolt in Antisuyu and promotes him to the highest rank, is presented as the complete opposite? Is the message here that the Incas were not infallible, and access to the higher ranks could be opened, rarely, to those without aristocratic backgrounds if they proved their merit?
The fictionalized Sayf ben Dhi Yazan of The Adventures of Sayf Ben Dhi Yazan: An Arab Folk Epic contains kernels of historical facts while reflecting some of the geopolitical tensions in Mamluk Egypt. The historical Sayf did fight against the Axumite Ethiopians, but Sayfa Ar'ad lived in the 14th century. Moreover, the Axumites were Christians, not worshippers of Saturn, as this folk epic portrays Ethiopia. The Solomonic dynasty's thwarted threat to divert the Nile is also ahistorically recycled as part of Sayf's greatness as he ensures the domination of Ethiopia and the Sudan (Black Africa). By ensuring the Nile flows into Egypt and living up to his lineage as a descendant of Shem, the "cursed" black Africans are subjugated. There are also references to much of the known world, including China, Waq al-Waq, the Zaghawa, the Maghreb, Egypt, Persia, India, and Greece. The Nile River itself almost becomes a character, that mythical river which medieval Islamic geographers believed to traverse most of the African continent. The source of the Nile itself is a land of wonders and perhaps Nubia, or early Islamic writings on Nubia, also influenced the depiction of the African interior in this work of literature. After all, early Islamic sources claimed the pre-Christian Nubians worshipped the stars and, later on, that they claimed descent from Yemen.
Despite some occasionally uncomfortable lines referring to "unclean black Ethiopians" or derogatory allusions to black Africans, valor and conversion of Islam can make them noble. None of the characters are developed or fully-fleshed persons, but Sayf spends much of his youth among the "Sudan" and marries or befriends several of them. Indeed, black Africans could be beautiful, comely, valorous, intelligent, or skilled in this work. Shama, the first wife of Sayf, also seems to have been "black" herself. Moreover, some of the "white" characters, especially Sayf's concubine mother, are the most treacherous, anti-Islamic characters in the story. There is undoubtedly an Islamic bias and emphasis on Arab ancestry, as references to patrilineal descent or Arab virtue make abundantly clear. Ethnocentric and Islamic biases aside, it is difficult to read this medieval work as racist (though there are elements of it). Thus, the epic may reflect an acceptance in the Curse of Ham ideology, yet Islam, which did not exist when Sayf actually lived, and a culture of chivalry could ennoble black characters. Arab lineage and Islam, ultimately, are the most important factors at play here.
Clearly, stories of Sayf and the Tubba'i kings were exaggerated and widely circulated across the Arabic-speaking and Muslim world for centuries before this epic of magic, romance, and war was written down in Mamluk Egypt. Stories and legends of Sayf of Himyar's defeat of the Axumites, or claims his lineage included the greatest kings who had once conquered all lands, probably reached Kanem soon after its Islamization in the late 11th century. Exactly when the Sayfawa dynasty began to claim descent from Sayf is not certain, but it was repeated in North African and Middle Eastern sources throughout the Middle Ages after the state's Islamization. Sayf's appeal to a recently Islamized dynasty must have been part of this circulation of fictionalized tales of the great king. Both influenced by and influencing the circulation of tales of Sayf, Kanem-Borno's ruling dynasty could have shaped the folk epic. It would fruitful to analyze the oral traditions in Kanem and Borno for possible influences on the epic or vice versa.
If stories of his conquests of Ethiopia and the Sudan were already disseminated by the 11th century, then the mais of Kanem might have chosen him as an ancestor to legitimize their own lineage as recent Muslims. Moreover, they might have seen their own conquests and raids of non-Muslim "Sudan" as repeating the feats of the legendary Sayf. For instance, Islamic sources reporting on 13th century Kanem's expansion and raids on the peoples south of Lake Chad or the region of Borno could have been interpreted as another instance in which Sayf b. Dhi Yazan's progeny established their hegemony over pagan "Sudan" who resisted Islam. Indeed, Kanem's expansion in the 1200s might have influenced the folk epic when it was finally written down in Egypt. Kanem pilgrims, students, and traders had already been known in Cairo, so stories of the Sayfawa's conquests in the African interior probably influenced the Sayf epic. Confused geographic notions that the Nile was connected to Lake Chad and much of sub-Saharan Africa could have made it easier to envision Kanem as accessible to (Christian) Ethiopia and pagan "Black Africa" as well. Kanem was additionally known through diplomacy, trade contacts, and as supplier of slaves via trans-Saharan networks to Egypt. All of these aforementioned factors would have meant some people in Mamluk Egypt might have interpreted the Sayfawa dynasty's dominant position in the Central Sudan as evidence of Sayf's conquests of Ethiopia and Black Africa. Like the fictionalized Sayf of the epic, his so-called descendants in Kanem and Borno were pious Muslims, militarily superior, and effective at subjugating infidels.
Like their putative ancestor, the Sayfawa mais were promoting Islam while asserting, through Islamic genealogical and historical modes of thought, an identity as sons of Shem and not "Sudan." Although they were, for the most part, obviously considered "black" in the Maghreb or Egypt, their lineage mattered more than their color or phenotype. This lineage established political and religious legitimacy as well as serving as a challenge to attempts to enslave Kanem subjects. If they were Muslims and descendants of Sayf, then enslavement of them was unlawful. Of course, the chronicles of Ahmad b. Furtu, the Diwan and oral sources commemorate the names of several pre-Islamic rulers of Kanem. These pre-Islamic rulers could have been, like the Zaghawa princess mentioned early on in the epic, easily fused with Sayf through creative genealogical reworking and fictitious marriage alliances. After all, the various foreign wives and lovers of Sayf come to symbolize his conquest of the world, so someone in Kanem could have simply incorporated Sayf into the ruling dynasty through a marriage between him and a "Zaghawa" princess. In the epic, or at least the abridged English translation, the Zaghawa princess is only mentioned once. If, however, the epic was passed down orally and subject to occasional changes by various audiences and storytellers, the earlier "Zaghawa" could have been combined with Sayf through a marriage.
Through such creative retellings of the Sayf story cycles and the political facts enshrined in royal genealogies, the Sayfawa court could easily claim descent from Sayf who defeated the Axumites and gradually moved to Kanem, where the pre-Islamic mais became descendants of Sayf, too. After all, the legends circulating of Sayf make him implausibly Muslim before the life of the Prophet Muhammad, so Kanem's rulers could have retconned their pre-Islamic past. This is part of the reason we find it hard to agree with Lange's assertion that the Sayfawa dynasty replaced an older, Duguwa house. There is simply not enough evidence to prove a dynastic change, nor would it have been necessary. Based on our current evidence, it seems unlikely since all the local written and oral sources claim dynastic continuity. Nonetheless, the fictionalized tales of Sayf b. Dhi Yazan's exploits must have reached Kanem by the late 11th century or early 12th century, if not earlier. Then, after adopting Sayf as their ancestor, reports of Kanem's conquests in the central Sahara and Chad Basin must have shaped the "authors" of the Sayf epic in Egypt. Reading The Adventures of Sayf Ben Dhi Yazan actually strengthens the theory of Abdullahi Smith just as it adds another layer to understanding the historical context of the epic. Such a theory suggests the centrality of Kanem-Borno to constructions of race, difference, and the image of Africa in Egypt and the Middle East.
We are not sure what to make of Ihara Saikaku's The Life of an Amorous Man. Consisting of several short chapters detailing Yonosuke's escapades with courtesans, prostitutes, daijin and the motley crew of workers and revelers in the Edo period's demimonde, the novel's repetitive structure makes itself more interesting for the world it portrays. Yonosuke, born into a wealthy merchant family, dedicates his entire life to sensual pleasures associated with districts like Edo's Yoshiwara or equivalent spaces in Kyoto, Osaka, Nagasaki, and other parts of Japan. His dalliances with courtesans, actors, prostitutes, mendicant priests, concubines, teahouse patrons, and other merchants creates several opportunities for him to enjoy the pleasures of life as well as see the darker side of the economy supporting his leisurely lifestyle.
Reading this novel helps us understand why sumptuary laws, for instance, were instituted by the Tokugawa government and why the wealthy merchant class continued to go out of its way to pursue the entertainment, consumption, and fashionable styles affiliated with their leisurely pursuits and increasing wealth. It is quite amazing to see how much of a consumer society Japan of the 17th century was. Yonosuke also shows us the other side of the tracks when his family disowns him, forcing him to fend for himself while practicing various trades, pimping, and going through a brief ascetic phase. This might be the picaresque aspect of the novel, though overall the narrator seems to condone it. Ultimately, Yonosuke remains incorrigible, sailing off in quest for more pleasure in his aged years with his companions. Our narrator offers occasional condemnation of Yonosuke's hedonism as the protagonist himself admits or accepts his likely fate, although Ihara Saikaku seems to be more on the celebratory side of it rather than offering a didactic fable on proper behavior.
We are not sure who Michel is, but his videos on important figures in Haitian intellectual thought and history are good overviews. Here he is discussing Delorme's Les théoriciens au pouvoir: causeries historiques, a work definitely inspired by the legacy of Classical and French political thought. Eddy Arnold Jean has also summarized the important work very well in terms of what it represented in 19th century Haitian political thought. In other words, despite the opposition of the Nations and Liberals in late 19th century Haiti, Delorme, of the National side, also believed in an exclusionary political state in which democracy did not entail the the participation of the masses. Instead, democracy was government in "view" of the people, not of the people. Haiti needed a government of enlightened men (women need not apply here) in an aristocratic sense to act on the best interests of the masses. Aristocratic in this context meant those who proved their worth, not just those born into wealth and privilege.
In a general sense, this did not differ from the Liberals who argued for power to the most capable. However, the Liberals and Nationals did, to a certain extent, represent different wings of the Haitian upper classes (largely but not solely "mulattoes" in commerce and land-owning "blacks). Of course, the "race" or "color" element is contradicted by the membership of the parties and the chief ideologues. Delorme's interests in agriculture as the basis of building a strong state might also distinguish him from some of the Liberal intellectuals who expressed interest in industrialization. Delorme understood that without addressing very basic, fundamentals like farming and roads, industrialization would not happen or would not occur in such a manner that would build wealth. To a certain extent, he was proven correct about the utter failure of the Haitian economy and the loss of sovereignty.
Sometimes we believe the Haitian political class should be forced to reread classic Haitian authors like Delorme but they have, in even more perverted ways, corrupted his already problematic political philosophy. The enlightened philosopher or poet presidents have either failed to materialize or proven themselves willing and able to rule in opposition to the interests of the people. The exploitation of the color question certainly did not help here, as Duvalier and other like-minded intellectuals used it as part of the justification for political power to noirs and the middle-class. While they may have, in some cases, represented a shift to a more meritocratic "aristocratie" in the Delormean sense, the Haitian political class continues to operate in the same destructive manner.
Although it took us over a year to finally procure a copy and read Haksar's translation of the Sanskrit Shuka Saptati, it was an enjoyable experience. A frame story consisting of several interlinked short tales connected to the subject of marital infidelity, a parrot convinces a married woman to not cheat her on merchant husband traveling abroad. As you can probably guess, story collections like these were translated into Persian and probably influenced some of the story cycles of the Middle East, too. These amusing tales of cheating wives, clever individuals and the occasional animal fable are not equal in comedy or wit, but very enlightening on an interesting past in which women seem to have had more sexual liberties than today.
We regret not posting here for some time. We have been carried away with consumption of various manga, anime (Monster was quite suspenseful and entertaining until it's meandering conclusion), and, for a more serious endeavor, the reading of the Koran. We used Dawood's poetic translation for a smooth reading but foolishly did not attempt to read the text in chronological order. Alas, had we done so, perhaps it would have been a more pleasant read. Instead, we forced ourselves to read the various longer surahs of the first half of the Koran before the shorter chapters in the later section, having to read Allah basically say the same things over and over and over to Muhammad. But we still enjoyed it at the pace of a few surahs per day, read at a leisurely pace and with an interest in understanding how this text has been a cornerstone for Islamic societies which interest us historically. We will have to continue our readings in Islamic texts while pursuing our study of West Africa and the Sahel.
For our long-term project on the history of Kanem-Borno, we assigned ourselves Koelle's African Native Literature, or Proverbs, Tales, Fables, & Historical Fragments in the Kanuri or Bornu language. Written in Sierra Leone with the aid of Borno native Ali Eisami, the work consists of several fables, stories, historical narratives, and a glossary of Kanuri words. Eisami, the son of an Islamic scholar, was from a town or village near the old capital, Birni Gazargamo. He received at least a Quranic schooling, and experienced the upheaval of the fall of Gazargamo to the Fulani jihadist forces in 1808. By 1810s, he was captured by a group of Fulani, sold into slavery, and was relatively well-treated by a Yoruba master before Spaniards purchased him for the horrific trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. Fortunately for him, a British ship used to suppress the slave trade intercepted the Spanish vessel and shipped the recaptives to Sierra Leone,.
Although Eisami had arrived in Sierra Leone in 1818 and was thus away from Borno for over 30 years by the time Koelle's book was published in 1854, Eisami's dictated stories are an invaluable source for anyone interested in oral traditions and the history of the region and what we are calling the "Late Sayfawa Period." And while the presence of other Kanuris in Sierra Leone after 1818 provided updated information on events in Borno after Eisami's capture, it is clear that the major value of his experience is the plethora of oral traditions or folktales and his perspective on the early impact of the Fulani jihadist attacks which ushered in several political, economic, and social changes across the region before he became "lost" in captivity.
Thus, the various short stories, fables, and historical fragments of the text shed light on a Borno that was lost with the fading Sayfawa dynasty and the declining political and economic fortunes of Borno across the turbulent 19th century. In a sense, Ali Eisami is an important final witness to to Borno as a civilization prior to the rise of al-Kanemi. His short stories and fables, which often reflect misogynistic views, also surprise. Some of the proverbs explicitly recognize slaves as untrustworthy. One tale, of a Muslim scholar and his heathen friend, exemplifies the ways in which oral traditions might reflect general social attitudes about religion and social obligation, challenging Islamic holymen on their character and not their adherence to tenets of the faith. His first tale, on the friendship between a rich man and a poor man, seems to reflect the importance of patron-client relations between superiors and inferiors, which could lead to long-lasting and surprising obligations.
Eisami's tales and historical narratives likewise shed light on family and marriage relations, diet, the relationship between Islamic scholars and elites, and crises that struck Borno on the eve of the 1808 jihadist attack. For instance, we learn of Mai Ahmad's struggles with the vassal state or town of "Deia" which illustrates what might have been the incompetence of some kaygamas in the late 1700s and early 1800s. Or, to take another case, a famine and pestilence which struck Borno before 1808 and must have surely contributed to the weakness of Ahmad to defeat the invasion. Mai Ahmad, perhaps too old himself to have led the Twelve Regiments in person, abdicated and gave the crown to his son, Dunoma. However, according to Eisami, Dunoma was only able to retake Gazargamo thanks to the prayers, ability and "charm-water" of Sheikh al-Kanemi, the Kanembu mallam who would eventually seize effective political power in Borno. Much of this was witnessed by Eisami, or at least he was close enough to have heard the details before he left Borno. Unfortunately, his sources of information on events after his capture are sometimes conflicting, and in some cases, incorrect (the final end of the Sayfawa, for instance).
We shall revisit Eisami later on in a long-term project at the blog. We hope to explore in detail the oral traditions, proverbs, and stories he shared with Koelle. A related project is a comparative approach to Eisami, Nicholas Said, and James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw as authors of slave narratives written by men from Borno. To what extent were all three authors modified or misunderstood by their interlocutors or, in the case of Said, publisher? How did they come to represent Borno and Islam? To what extent were racialization and Western racial concepts shaping their narratives? These and other questions will be addressed in our future project.
Hénock Trouillot's critical study of Jacques Roumain is a fascinating analysis of the illustrious Haitian writer. Despite Trouillot's noirist sympathies, which can be detected through his persistent admiration and praise for the Griots (Duvalier, Denis, Jacob, etc.), Dimensions et limites de Jacques Roumain is a mostly fair overview of the various writings of Roumain from his youthful anti-Occupation journalism to the mature talent of his final novel. Undoubtedly, Trouillot recognized the talent and ability of Roumain and his universalist outlook. However, Roumain's abilities as a novelist, poet, and ethnologue developed over time, and remained, in some aspects, embryonic or detached from what was actually happening on the ground in Haiti during the 1930s and 1940s. With the exception of the influence of Fernand Hibbert and Frederic Marcelin on Roumain's nouvelles, and Price-Mars writing the preface to his first roman, he seems to owe far more to his European education than Haiti.
Of course, some of Roumain's detachment was due to exile and perhaps his education in Europe, so one can see why Roumain was removed from the "Ethnological School" of Price-Mars, Denis, Duvalier, and others. Trouillot's sympathy for the Griots and explicitly indigenist Haitian authors makes him torn on the question of Roumain's adherence to indigenist and negritude literature. Roumain was too universal, and did not pursue with the requisite depth history, ethnology, and the specifically Haitian context of the racial question. And one can make the case Trouillot was correct in clearly delineating two distinct schools, one of Roumain and that of Price-Mars and the Griots in Haitian ethnology and indigénisme.
In spite of Roumain's shortcomings, and his early death depriving us of his future endeavors in literature, ethnology or Marxism, his legacy seems the most commemorated or celebrated today. With the exception of Price-Mars, the Griots became associated with the Duvalier regime and have, at best, a checkered legacy. They have may laid the foundations for the Bureau d'Ethnologie with more careful studies and historically-grounded research than Roumain, but Roumain, the Marxist universalist who rejected Vodou, authored the timeless novel of Haiti that artfully combined his descriptive ethnographic work and "symbolic realism" with his political vision of sacrifice for the collective. Thus, even though we tend to agree with Trouillot on the weakness of Roumain as a poet, particularly in the early years, and the sometimes superficial nature of his political and ethnographic works, there is undeniably something timeless in his universalist outlook and gradual development as a novelist.
We here at the blog have finally completed our reading of McKinney's translation of The Pillow Book. Since much of the book is not written in any specific chronological order, and consists of various lists and anecdotes, we read it slowly, trying to immerse ourselves in the court culture of Heian-era Japan over the course of several days. While it occasionally became something of a chore to read certain passages or anecdotes, one is utterly charmed by the wit, character flaws, and timeless qualities of life as portrayed by Sei Shonagon. The gossip, fawning praise of Her Majesty Teishi, and dismissive attitudes toward commoners can be a bit much, but the timeless quality of life and relationships, with the typical troubles of romance, raising children, proper social relations, moments of joy with friends and loved ones, etc. all speak to modern audiences. If a woman who lived over 1000 years ago can speak to readers from around the world today, then she's produced a timeless work that will continue to entertain, provoke, resonate, infuriate, and break hearts, even when so much of the genius behind her poetry and barbed tongue is lost in translation.
Ivan Morris's study of the Heian era, particularly the 10th and 11th centuries when Murasaki Shikibu lived, is an excellent introduction to the period for anyone interested in Tale of Genji or Heian literature. Since we at the blog have read a few of the diaries and monogatari and poetry of the era, we were recommended Morris's study to ensure a great understanding of the cultural, social, historical, and literary contexts. And as an exploration of the Heian era, one begins to see how Japan, influenced heavily by Chinese civilization, Buddhism, and continental ideas, began to develop its literature in an insular way that looked to the past (T'ang dynasty China, for instance) while blending, in an eclectic fashion, Shinto, Buddhist and native traditions to reflect what Morris calls the cult of beauty. While not expecting the degree of isolation Morris attributes to the Heian era, it certainly helps explain how a unique and independent foray in prose fiction developed by the 10th century, and why women, in the peculiar context of this era, produced the most memorable literary works that perfectly capture the aestheticism of the age.
Everything in in the rather narrow worlds of the Heian aristocracy reflected this obsession with style and beauty, even as their world fell into decline as the Fujiwara-dominated government failed to contain provincial uprisings and the breakdown of law and order. If you're trying to learn more about how the economy functioned, or the lifestyles of the peasantry or artisans, this book won't help you very much. As Morris admits, the women (and male) writers of the Heian period looked at commoners at is they were barely human, and Murasaki Shikibu or Sei Shonagon rarely mentioned lower classes or discussed the economic basis for the wealth of the aristocrats of higher ranks. Yet one cannot help but admire Murasaki Shikibu and Sei Shonagon as talented, intelligent women who, despite enjoying a higher status than women in later periods of Japanese history, were still at a tremendous disadvantage in a polygamous and sexist world. And it is they who appear to represent the zenith of Heian civilization's literature while providing a testament to the cultural accomplishments of the Fujiwara-dominated period, even as Japan languished in other fields.
We finally completed our reading of Grettir's Saga, translated by Jesse Byock. This saga was somewhat easier to follow than our last one, as it was focused mostly on a single character instead of a community with its complex genealogies. Of course, the reader is treated to long genealogies and a large cast of characters in this tale of Grettir. Centered on an outlaw who, though physically strong, intelligent, and a clever wordsmith, lacked impulse control and was not inclined to labor, the saga is destined to end poorly for Grettir. His personal disposition and bad luck (particularly after a defeating Glam, a revenant that was terrorizing a part of Iceland) curse him to wander the lands, living on the margins of society yet still respected for defeating berserkers, trolls, and the undead. So the quasi-heroic figure of the outlaw was clearly something that appealed to Icelandic audiences when this saga was written (probably) in the 14th century.
Perhaps every society requires non-conformers to "rock the boat" and challenge the status quo, as Grettir's complicated life exemplifies. Despite robbing for his survival, and even raping a maidservant in one particularly disturbing episode, even Grettir's enemies eventually support his kinsman after the killer of our protagonist resorts to sorcery to defeat him. Indeed, Grettir's death caused the Althing to prohibit sorcery with the threat of the death penalty, if we recall correctly. Furthermore, the manner in which his brother avenges his death in Constantinople is certainly exceptional, adding to Grettir's renown even after death. Of course, as a saga written by a Christian author, of the Middle Ages, the social order cannot be truly upended or overthrown by the likes of Grettir. Ultimately, rank, status and lineage rule the day, and those who transgress Christian morality will eventually make amends. Thus, the adulterous Spes, who eventually marries Grettir's brother, compensates for her misdeeds and the two end their lives in Rome after seeking penance for their sins.
Yet one can see a celebration of the Icelandic lifestyle and individuality of the settlers and their early descendants, a period where men (and usually men, although women like Asdis are certainly admired as powerful matriarchs) stood up for their honor and that of their kinsmen without a centralized state attempting to police their behavior. Presumably this explains the appeal of Grettir's Saga to modern Icelanders and foreign readers, who can enjoy the understatement of the characters' lines, Grettir's proverbial speech, and the attempts by one man who refuses to conform forging his own path. Such character archetypes are always appealing to a variety of readers, across time and space.
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