[.ca] Chronicle of the Seven Sorrows (ISBN 0803264267)

From Amazon.com:
Pity the poor translator who has to grapple with Martinican writer Patrick Chamoiseau's playful and imaginative mélange of formal French and Caribbean Creole--but envy the lucky reader who gets to enjoy his tasty gumbo, Chronicle of the Seven Sorrows. First published in France in 1987, Chamoiseau's debut novel is reminiscent of the work of Gabriel García Márquez and Salman Rushdie in its wild tumbling cataracts of language, its host of characters, and its freewheeling use of magical realism. Consider, for example, the origins of protagonist Pierre Philomene "Pipi" Soleil: That evening, Héloïse went to bed a virgin for the last time, because meanwhile, black Phosphore had revealed to his sorrowing son the Method he'd learned from a sepulcher, and had turned him into a dorlis. Anatole-Anatole's modus operandi remains unknown. People get lost in conjecture trying to figure out if he used the technique of the toad hidden beneath the bed, the one of the ant that slips through keyholes, or the one of three-steps-forward-three-steps-back that lets you walk through walls. The fact remains that on the evening in question, he found himself in Héloïse's bedroom despite all locks and barricades. Putting his new expertise as a dorlis to work, he went inside her without waking her up and spent eight delicious hours on her sleeping body. When Héloïse wakes up the next morning, bruised and bloodied, she knows she's been assaulted by an incubus and takes measures (a pair of black underpants worn backwards) to protect herself against him. Unfortunately, the damage has already been done, and nine months later she gives birth to a son, who eventually grows up to be "king of the djobbers." The novel's plot, such as it is, follows Pipi's fortunes as he wields his wheelbarrow through the crowded market streets of Fort-de-France. Chamoiseau structures his tale like a collection of oral histories, dipping in and out of the life stories of minor characters, circling back and forth in time to cover a wide range of topics from slavery to World War II to relations between the white and black Martinicans. There's little if any real character development, but that's not what this "word scratcher" is after. In his dizzying cut-and-paste collage of Caribbean life, Chamoiseau is attempting nothing less than to communicate the soul of his homeland--a challenge at which he succeeds brilliantly. --Alix Wilber

I recommend this to any Chamoiseau fan:
If you have read Chamoisaeu's other novels, you should appreciate this. Although it is not as fully developed as his later novels, Solibo Magnifique and Texaco, it is a wonderful first novel. His style and personality as a writer are clear from the start. The reader gets a treat at the end. Included are several poems that Chamoiseau wrote that evoke the people, places, etc. These poems were written as part of the planning process of the book and even though they were left out the text of the book, they capture the spirit.

A Glimpse of the Martinique We've Forgotten:
Some of the best things we've ever been, the connections that make us who we are, will never be recorded in print. The life we lived and where we fit in survives only in memory. After those who knew us are gone, there will be no one to repeat our stories. Entire populations will vanish, perhaps to make a brief appearance in accounts of war or disaster. Don't let that happen. The people in Chronicle Of The Seven Sorrows will never grace the pages of textbooks. Their very existence is almost lost to time. A culture rich in heritage, beliefs, and far too much suffering has vanished. Only ghosts and a few authors like Chamoiseau strive to keep the past alive. It is our loss, you'll realize after reading Chronicle Of The Seven Sorrows. We have cheated ourselves and we have been cheated. There was a time in Martinique when its people still listened to the voices of ghosts, dorlis, and zombies. The undead as much a part of their lives as the buyers in the marketplace, and often, the only verbal link to their past. Memories of slavery, brutality, and stolen moments of joy, remained only beneath grave soil. And, while not everyone stayed to hear the song of their history, there were some who were unable to tear themselves away. Pipi Soleil, king of the marketplace djobbers, was one of the enchanted. He was destined to become the master of masters of the wheelbarrow and to be lured away from that exalted position again and again by the spirits' voices. His life story forms the core of this spellbinding and animated account of a lost time and way-of-life. Chamoiseau's words tumble over themselves, and read like a late-night storytelling session. Each tale attempts to top the ones before it. The conversational style recaptures the oral tradition and, like truly great gossip, captures the reader, too. The voice of Fort-de France, Martinique's vegetable market people spills out in a irresistible tangle. The residents of Chronicle Of The Seven Sorrows speak in the distinctive Creole tongue. Coverdale's translation retains that flavour and sound, so you may spend some time flipping to the notes in the back of the novel. Some phrases may need translation, but the momentary pause is well worth the detour; there is as much history in the notes as in the story. The original words are essential; when you spy on Phosphore the grave-digger and Anatole-Anatole (father and son dorlis) listening to the sad murmurs of the burial ground's deceased residents. Missing the wrenching questions of Afoukal the zombie would be a deprivation akin to his own. Yes. Most of the population of Martinique was undead. But how much more life they embodied! How much more they had in the time before progress and government "assistance" banished them to fading shadows. The people and cultures don't have to wither away. Fight back. Cherish every word of Chamoiseau's you can latch onto. The voice of the past of Martinique will make you grieve for precious things lost, and hunger for more stories to bring them back just once more.