Ayana Mathis: “History with a capital “H” does not interest me” (second part)

RFI: Your two novels have been translated into French. What memories do you have of your interactions with the French public during your visits to France for the launch of your books?

Ayana Mathis: I have unforgettable memories. I had the chance to travel to large and small French towns to meet readers, during book festivals or in bookstores. The welcome has always been extremely warm and often followed by discussions that are always very enriching for me. I was happy to note that the French public sometimes focused on aspects of my novels that had escaped the American public. I particularly remember a meeting and signing session in a bookstore, which was in a small town, in Brittany, I think. The room was crowded with people, but the exchange was particularly rich with questions raining down every two minutes, to the point that the translator no longer knew where to turn. I was bombarded with questions, often pointed questions on African-American history, on religion, the impact of religion on society… I was stunned by the relevance of the questions. The thing that strikes me the most every time I’m in France is the general public’s attachment to books. There is a real cult and culture of books in this country. The seriousness with which the general French public speaks of foreign novels, of what they have understood and what they have not understood, has always impressed me.

After The Twelve Tribes of Hattieyour first novel, here is the second which is coming out in French under the title The Lost. The prologue which opens this novel is teeming with proper nouns: Toussaint, 248 Ephraïm Avenue… What did you want to do by flooding the reader with all these proper nouns, from the outset?

I like to sprinkle the beginnings of my novels with proper nouns, which helps establish the story from the first page. These proper names serve as benchmarks. These markers are important for the reader who, by entering a book, leaves the realm of silence to enter a world buzzing with voices that speak to each other, intersect. In order not to get lost, he needs, I believe, these proper names, which allow us to distinguish the characters from each other. I give street names, numbers, so many tangible supports to which the reader can cling, while intellectually taking possession of the fictional world that the novel offers them.

“Toussaint Wright” are the first words of the prologue. This is the name of your main protagonist. It is a name rich in historical references and allusions.

This name refers, in fact, to Toussaint Louverture, who was, as you know, the famous Haitian general, who led the rebellion against the white owners of the island in the 19th century, forcing them to put an end to slavery . I wanted a name for this character that recalled the long history of black Americans engaged in the fight to free themselves from their chains. As we progress in the story, we understand why the father of young Toussait wanted to give his son a name steeped in history.

History with a capital “H” is the main driving force of your novel. Much of the plot takes place in Philadelphia, a city you know well. Her story is intertwined with the narrative of Ava, Dutchess and Toussaint. In particular, you revisit the police bombing around forty years ago of the black environmentalist and anarchist collective known by its acronym MOVE. This tragedy marked the modern history of Philadelphia.

I’m actually from Philadelphia. Of course, today I live in New York, but I was born and raised in Philadelphia. In my family, we used to joke that the history of the last 100 years of this city could not be written without us. It’s not that exaggerated. My grandparents settled here at the beginning of the last century. We’ve been here a long time. I was 11 years old when on May 13, 1985, on Mother’s Day, the municipal police launched explosive charges from a helicopter on the buildings occupied by members of the environmentalist organization MOVE. This tragedy was an open wound in the conscience of my city, a wound that has not yet really closed. This pure violence, exercised by an all-powerful State with the sole objective of devastating and annihilating the recalcitrant, has long appealed to me. Certainly, MOVE activists were difficult, turbulent neighbors. Perhaps even outlaws had taken refuge in the houses, but is that reason enough to bomb them? Eleven people died during this operation, including five children. My ambition in this book was less to revisit this tragedy, than to pay tribute to the victims of police and state violence.

Your novels are not historical stories in the narrow sensebut they are inspired by historical events, from a historical period. The 1930s in the first novel, the 1980s in the new novel. How do you work with historical material?

History with a capital “H” doesn’t interest me. I always write it with a small “h”. By this I mean that history arises from the decisions taken by men and women in power, but which determines and shakes up the lives of everyone. It is not an abstract movement, but it exists by materializing in the daily life of people. The novel, which allows us to understand life in all its materiality and temporality, is, in my opinion, the ideal framework for grasping history and its repercussions on people’s experiences. In my novels, history is not reduced to an immaterial framework, but it is the spring of life and society and manifests itself through the experience of the characters, their imaginations or their contradictions. In other words, man is history.

This is what undoubtedly explains why in your two stories your characters acquire, along the way, almost epic, even metaphorical dimensions, representative of their respective eras. Can you talk about the main characters of the Lostnamely Dutchess, Ava and Toussaint, whose life experiences structure this novel?

It took me a good ten years to write this novel. Ten years to find the distinctive voices of each character, including Dutchess, Ava and Toussaint. Dutchess is Ava’s mother and Toussaint’s grandmother. Toussaint, a teenager, never met his grandmother who lives in Alabama, in a town called Bonaparte. Bonaparte is a former autonomous commune founded by freed slaves and which Dutchess is trying to save from the appetite of white real estate developers. As for Ava, who moved away from her mother, and got involved in a radical black project, close to the Black Panther movement. The idea of ​​this collective and utopian community, located in the heart of Philadelphia, was inspired by the MOVE organization, whose activists suffered a tragic fate. Toussaint, for his part, abandoned by his mother, tries to join his grandmother to help her in her fight. The past, present and future are embodied by its three protagonists. But The Lost is not only a historical novel, it is also a family saga. Her characters, Dutchess, Ava and Toussaint, are part of a broken family. They no longer really know each other and are struggling to find the path to reconciliation. Their distrust of each other is nourished by the thousand kilometers that separate Alabama from Philadelphia, but also by their old and recent conflicts as well as their misunderstandings.

Struggles and social transformations are at the heart of your novels. You would call yourself “ committed writer » ?

Absolutely not. I came to writing through my interest in tiny, marginalized, forgotten lives whose journeys I try to recreate through my novels. My characters are mostly African-Americans, often women, poor women who eke out a living on the margins of good society. They are magical beings, inexhaustible sources of fascination for me, also of sorrow and much confusion. These characters are the prism through which I apprehend the world to try to grasp its design.

Who are your writing role models?

My mother read a lot. Thanks to her, I grew up reading and admiring a multitude of authors. I learned to write by reading and sometimes rereading some of the masterpieces of American literature. They are my sources of inspiration today. For The LostI was inspired by the colorful and angry essays of James Baldwin, but also the novels of Toni Morrison and William Faulkner. Faulkner’s circular narration was of great help to me in this novel in which the plot proceeds in a mirror image, revisiting events from the characters’ past. Among living authors, the writer I admire most is undoubtedly the American Louise Erdrich. She too draws her material from the history of her family, intertwining destinies with a brilliance that always leaves me speechless with admiration. I thought a lot about Louise Erdrich while writing The Lost.

(Interview translated from English by T. Chanda)

The Lostby Ayana Mathis. Translated from English by François Happe. Editions Gallmeister, 528 pages, 25.90 euros.