The world has lost one of its literary luminaries: Maryse Condé, the renowned French-language novelist of Caribbean descent, has passed away at age 90. With her home in Guadeloupe serving as both an alluring muse and everlasting anchor, Condé crafted scintillating tales that spanned from 17th century New England to the throbbing heart of contemporary Europe. She penned her stories and memoirs with a fervor that painted worlds both personal and historical, blending reality and imagination into an intoxicating brew of narrative intrigue.
Condé, awarded an alternative Nobel Prize in 2018, breathed her last at a hospital in Apt, just beyond the bustling city of Marseille. She had been grappling with a neuropathic illness that had deteriorated her sight to the degree that she had to dictate her final masterpiece: “The Gospel According to the New World.” Yet, despite her weakened condition, she had been the radiant star at her 90th birthday party this February, surrounded by friends and family. Everyone in attendance would remember the joy on Condé’s face in that affectionate farewell.
The prolific author had made her home in Luberon, France in recent times, where she was frequently hailed as the “grande dame” of Caribbean literature. Her writing, influenced by the polemic critiques of colonialism by notable scholars like Frantz Fanon and Aimé Césaire, explored the intricate dynamics of various cultures—African, Caribbean and Western. Her narratives shed light on the dichotomy of liberation and the shackles of terrorism and radicalism, tinged with her unique perspective.
Condé’s rich bibliography consists of dozens of books, some penned with her husband, Richard Philcox, who wore the hat of her English translator. Her literary repertoire varied, ranging from historical forays, like her celebrated novel “Segu,” to autobiographical revelations, like those in “Tales from the Heart,” to audacious reinterpretations of classic Western literature. Condé sidestepped the role of a traditional historian, preferring to describe herself as a dreamer whose narratives were steeped in a historical backdrop.
The novelist was in her 40s when she published her debut novel and had grazed the threshold of her 50s when “Segu” propelled her to global recognition. Launched in French in 1984 and in the United States three years subsequent, “Segu” transported readers to an 18th-century African kingdom, unflinchingly revealing the devastating impact of Islam’s rise and the burgeoning slave trade industry on one royal advisor and his family.
Condé’s writing style was never confined by geographical boundaries. Each successive novel was a travelogue of its own, taking readers from 17th-century Salem, Massachusetts, in “I, Tituba”, to modern Jamaica in “Nanna-Ya”, to a poignant combination of Paris and Guadeloupe in “The Wondrous and Tragic Life of Ivan and Ivana.”
Condé’s unparalleled body of work earned her numerous accolades in the second half of her life, including the Commandeur de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres from the French government, the U.S-based Hurston & Wright Legacy Award and, in an informal gesture, the New Academy Prize for Literature in 2018, which was given in lieu of that year’s stalled Nobel Prize, hampered by allegations of sexual harassment among the prize committee.
In the 1990s, the pedigree of Columbia University’s faculty was enhanced as Condé served as a professor of French and Francophone literature, subsequently teaching at universities like Virginia and UCLA before retiring in 2005. The same year, the French President Jacques Chirac nominated her to lead the French Committee for the Memory of Slavery, further cementing her legacy.
Born in Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe, Condé was a member of a well-off, educated family steeped in French culture. Her literary voyage began early when she had, at only ten, put up a single-act play about her mother. This love for writing evolved into journalism and book reviewing, but her first novel came only in her late twenties, a reflection of her experiences in Africa that highlighted the oppressive nature of a so-called independent government. This quest for identity took her from Guadeloupe to Paris, onto Africa and then the United States eventually resulting in the synthesis of her own language, “Maryse Condé.”
Her swansong novel, “The Gospel According to the New World,” forced by her ill health to be dictated to her husband, spun an evocative tale about a dark-skinned, grey-green-eyed child who might be the son of God. In her author’s note, Condé left a lasting testament to the unwavering internal strength required to shake the world. She made a persuasive case for love as the only true conduit of change, an idea she had woven with finesse into her stories – stories that will continue to echo long after her demise.
