At a mere 126 pages Blue is part lyrical stream of consciousness, part ode to the narrator’s motherland and generations of women. Their stories are told to us while she travels from Miami back to her hometown, Port-au-Prince, Haiti and finds herself waiting at the airport.
“This morning I am measuring the steps of those people, my people, their lowly paths. I am seeking their souls to console myself. I have an urgent need for reasons to dream, to continue to watch travelers, to think of where they might be going, what their lives are like. I’m alive too, with my roots painfully severed. I am strangely alive.”
Airports are the perfect breeding ground for contemplation and reflection – according to our narrator they are a distillation of the world. Thousands of people move through a confined space, their lives separated, yet for a moment intertwined. This is where scenes of sadness and happiness transpire next to each other, hope for a new future and despair for might be lost. At the time in which Blue is set airports are also places of uncertainty and fear. Two planes have just crashed into the World Trade Centre and the world is standing on the precipice of change.
It’s both this dynamic and emotive setting and the fact that she has just returned from a funeral which leads our narrator to contemplate her past, her country and her family’s struggles. Simultaneously she can’t separate her own identity from her country’s or her family, in particular the women she grew up with.
“I have hidden myself too often beneath words and their images, I’ve only ever just brushed the surface of anything, I am nothing but a memory trying to exist, and no one would notice, if I disappeared. I tell myself that no one sees me in this airport; my fate is to be a fleeting memory.”
Being born and raised in Haiti as a woman was not associated with choice or freedom. For the narrator’s mother her marriage was one arranged by family, leaving her fragile and afraid of taking risks or having an opinion. Love was merely part of a transaction. These were women who had no heroes or models, they were considered mothers and in being mothers servitude and self-sacrifice was expected of them. Her description of her mother as she sits by her sewing machine is one filled with melancholy whilst perfectly depicting the fate of women without any choice in their own lives.
“My mother’s heart makes the same sound as her sewing machine, which I have known my whole life. I’ve seen many women sit behind that machine, which makes an ancient mechanical noise, like Maman’s heart, like the heart of all women who have been poorly loved. My mother sits down at Linda to listen to that lovely imitation of her heartbeat, when she doubts her own existence.”
Despite its understandably melancholic tone and subject matter Prophète’s love for her country and family is unmistakable. She realises that she is bearing witness to “… the slow death of my land, to its inexorable slide toward a foreign elsewhere, toward the sea, toward the abyss near and far.”
This isn’t a narrative driven story with a clearly set out, chronological timeline. Instead, the reader is taken along on a meandering of thoughts; memories and insights. Full of beautifully descriptive prose one can only imagine that Prophète’s text must have posed challenging, yet Tina Kover succeeds in delivering an impressive translation which undoubtedly will open the Haitian writer’s work to a new audience. If you find it difficult to purely enjoy a book for it’s wonderfully descriptive prose, Blue is not for you. However, if you have an hour to pause, let Prophète take you with her on a poetic and heart-breaking journey.
About the author
Born in Port-au-Prince, where she still resides, Emmelie Prophète is a poet, novelist, journalist, and director of the National Library of Haiti. Her publications include Blue (Le testament des solitudes), which earned her the Grand Prix littéraire de l’Association des écrivains de langue française (ADELF) in 2009; Le reste du temps (2010), which tells the story of her special relationship with journalist Jean Dominique, who was murdered in 2000; Impasse Dignité (2012); and Le bout du monde est une fenêtre (2015).
About the translator
Tina Kover is an American-born literary translator specializing in both classic and modern literature, including Négar Djavadi’s Disoriental, Alexandre Dumas’s Georges, and Mahir Guven’s Goncourt Prize–winning Older Brother. Her work has won the Albertine Prize and the Lambda Literary Award in Bisexual Fiction and has been shortlisted for the International Dublin Literary Award, the National Book Award for Translated Literature, the PEN Translation Prize, the Warwick Prize for Women in Translation, the Oxford-Weidenfeld Translation Prize, and the Scott Moncrieff Prize. She is also cofounder of the YouTube channel Translators Aloud, which spotlights readings by literary translators from their own work.