© Hegel Goutier
A powerful woman
She would simply have said in a monotone voice: “Oh great, I’ve won the Goncourt”, which reflects her economy of language as well as a certain distance and strength of character. Marie Ndiaye, the daughter of a Senegalese father and French mother, is best known for her writing, a precise style where no word or punctuation mark is redundant. Neither could it be replaced by another or by a synonym.
She only uses what is essential. There was no full stop in her first novel Quant au riche avenir (‘As For the Rich Future’); she didn’t put one in. One book, one sentence, one long breath. Like the flight of the albatross carrying the reader on its wings over all of her other works. This novel, which she wrote at the age of 17, astonished the literary world, prompting the highbrow review Quinzaine littéraire to declare at the time that she was already a great writer. Ndiaye had, in fact, been writing since the age of 12.
The first verses of the three songs – or three stories – which make up Trois femmes puissantes (‘Three Powerful Women’) certainly leave the reader breathless. Who killed Norah’s father’s beautiful young mistress? Her brother, who she loved dearly when they were little, who has become glib, insipid, almost artificial, and stands accused of the crime after an incestuous relationship with this woman? Or the calculating father who took him from the family home in France to Africa after leaving the mother, Norah – who he struggles to remember – and her sister in poverty?
The father: “He was there, radiating cold brilliance, obviously having fallen over the doorstep of his arrogant house, the somewhat flamboyant side where the garden had been planted because, Norah said to herself… … this radiant, fallen man, a huge blow to his head seemed to have restored harmonious proportions… … And this man who could transform any entreaty made of him into a request for himself”.
Description of feelings
There is a certain build-up of tension, but definitely not the kind found in a thriller. Her intricate descriptions of emotions are without comparison – fear, disgust, outrage, frustration, shame and humiliation – she possesses the ability to create a subtle haze for readers which is the hallmark of a great writer. Even before winning the Goncourt Prize, Trois femmes puissantes became a bestseller within weeks.
In the second song, Fanta, from Senegal, where as a teacher of literature she had succumbed to the charm of Frenchman Rudy Descas, becomes a cleaning lady in Gironde, France. Having come from a poor background, she returns there. “But she could not prevent him from reflecting on the past and reminding her in an imploring voice of the not so distant good times, when one of their greatest pleasures, in the half-light of their room, sat on the bed, side by side, like two companions, was…”
The novel’s last song takes us into the life of humiliation suffered by Khady Demba in her country, Senegal. Dignity lies in understanding this humiliation and the self-awareness which help her to take control of her deprived life. A sneak preview: “When her husband’s parents and sisters told her what they expected of her, what she would be obliged to do, Khady already knew….” Finally, she reflects: “It’s me, Khady Demba, she still thought about the time when her head hit the floor and when, eyes wide open…”