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Caribbean Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘The Mermaid of Black Conch’ (2020) by Monique Roffey

Blog Nº 29

“The sea, that expanse of nothingness, could reflect a man back on himself. It had that effect. It was so endless and it moved around underneath the boat. It wasn’t the same thing at all as being on any expanse of earth. The sea shifted. The sea could swallow the boat whole. The sea was the giant woman of the planet, fluid and contrary. All the men shuddered as they gazed at her surface.”

I have always enjoyed stories that contain elements of myth and legend, but this is the first time I have delved into the world of Caribbean folklore. The Mermaid of Black Conch is arresting and powerful while unravelling all pre-conceived notions of what a mermaid is. It gives an insight into the long and fascinating history of the Caribbean through the unique story of Aycayia, the girl cursed to be a mermaid for all eternity.

The story begins in 1976 in the small town of St Constance, located on the island of Black Conch in the Lesser Antilles. An unsuspecting young fisherman, David Baptiste, is out in his pirogue boat singing and playing the guitar whilst waiting for a catch. What he doesn’t expect to attract is the mermaid Aycayia, a beautiful young woman cursed long ago by jealous wives who has been swimming in the Caribbean Sea ever since. So entranced by his music, when Aycayia hears David’s boat engine again she follows it, only to find herself a target for American tourists visiting the island for its annual fishing competition. Dragged out of the sea by the Americans and strung up on the dock like a trophy, Aycayia believes her fate is sealed. However, when night falls it is David who rescues her and takes her home. Slowly, Aycayia begins to transform back into a woman, much to the joy of David who has become completely enamoured with her. Unfortunately, transformations are not always permanent, especially when centuries-old jealousy is at play. Even the love between Aycayia and David may not be enough to break the curse.

Author Monique Roffey has succeeded in producing a spellbindingly rhythmic narrative often through simple literary devices such as repetition. For example, “she was floating port side of his boat, cool cool, like a regular woman on a raft, except there was no raft”, “I am an ol’ man now, and sick sick so I cyan move much”, or “after the fish-rain I realise curse strong strong.” She uses this technique frequently throughout the novel, indicating that it has been inspired by folkloric tales passed down for centuries through nothing but spoken word, made memorable by repetition. The fact that all dialogue is spelled phonetically – “Dou dou. Come. Mami wata! Come. Come, nuh” – only adds to the significance that spoken word has in stories like this. Roffey continues to show how important different voices are in The Mermaid of Black Conch by having several narrators sharing the storytelling duties. We hear from David through his retrospective diary entries in 2016, an unknown narrator present in 1976 who tells us the words and actions of all characters, and Aycayia herself who speaks in verse, which further emphasises the memorable quality of the narrative and her difference from the other characters. Furthermore, Aycayia always speaks in the present tense, yet it is clear she is looking back on events, suggesting that being stuck in an everlasting curse has made all notion of time and tense completely meaningless. This fusion of unique voices and narrative styles makes for a highly enchanting read.

It’s also important to focus on Aycayia herself. She in no way conforms to the trope of a siren sitting atop a rock, combing her hair and luring men to their deaths with her beauty. In fact, Aycayia is distinctly ‘unbeautiful’ when compared to Disney-esque mermaids. She has matted dreadlocks which are full of sea creatures who have made a home there, her teeth are sharp and pointed, she has dorsal fins on her back, she smells of salt and fish, she has webbed hands, and her tail is enourmous and scaly. Personally, I think she is a more authentic mermaid because she is at one with the sea, and is striking in a magical, sharp kind of way. Significantly, she has no idea how to lure in a man because she was cursed to this fishlike form when she was just on the brink of womanhood. It transpires that she used to dance for the men of her village centuries ago, not realising in her innocence why the men enjoyed it so much. Consumed by jealousy, the wives of these men chose to make her a mermaid when cursing her because they knew her tail would bind her ‘sex’, making her unable to seduce a man let alone sleep with one. It is not until she is on land, tailless and human, that she is able to finally ‘become a woman’ and understand what it is to physically love a man, a joy that she finds with David. Even though the long-dead wives can still wield their power over Aycayia, it is satisfying to know that whatever her fate, she has bested them through her relationship with David and this can never be taken away from her, despite the eternal cruelty of these scorned women.

I have read several books featuring mermaids, but I have to say that The Mermaid of Black Conch is now my standout favourite. It encompasses myth and legend, love and the cruelty of human nature as well as the beauty of the Caribbean and its complex history. I highly recommend this captivating and unique novel.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
Caribbean Literature World literature

ImoReads… ‘The Orchid House’ (1953) by Phyllis Shand Allfrey

Blog Nº 28

“Miss Joan paused on the threshold, for a beautiful thing was holding her prisoner there. Just outside the orchid house was a frosted pink hibiscus bush, one of the rare ones which Old Master cultivated. A little fou-fou humming-bird had chosen the largest and most perfect of flowers to drain its sweetness. The flower was three times larger than the bird which was only like a flashing black-and-emerald moth. The bird was fluttering and humming at such a speed that it seemed to lie still along the bright warm air, its tiny claws curled up; its long sharp bill was deep in the bedecked trumpet of the hibiscus. Seconds and seconds it remained suspended there, appearing rigid, then like a drunken spirit it reeled away and wiped the sword of its beak on some lichen. Shocked by this exquisite sight, Miss Joan sighed deeply and sat down again.”

The Orchid House is Allfrey’s only novel, and it certainly makes a statement. Heavily autobiographical, the novel is set in Dominica in the Caribbean and explores themes including love, money, politics and family relations, all seen through the lens of colonial decay. 

Three sisters are returning to their childhood home in the Caribbean after being away for several years. Though the family are directly descended from colonial settler heavyweights, the family has sunk into a state of near poverty with the coming of the end of empire. Each sister wants to change the family’s fortunes but in different ways. I believe that Joan is the sister that is based upon Allfrey herself – she is concerned with empowering the locals through politics, influenced by her strong socialist ideals. Interestingly, Allfrey has chosen to have the sisters’ childhood nurse Lally narrate the book. Throughout the book we see Lally’s devotion to the family come up against her awareness of the destruction left in the wake of colonialism on the island.

The choice of narrator is interesting to me. Given the time of the book’s publication, the character of Lally is in some ways reminiscent of the ‘loyal faithful slave’ character depicted in many novels written by white authors in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Lally is completely devoted to the family she has been serving her whole life, and even looks down on other black characters for being unsuitable associates of said family. She always speaks about each family member with care and compassion. Though Allfrey was engaged in socialist politics and activism, it seems unlikely that she was not influenced by these stereotypes as she herself did grow up in the very same colonial environment with house servants who it would be assumed were completely loyal. On the other hand, Lally is becoming more and more aware of the downward turn in fortunes for the island. Furthermore, there are times when she wonders why at her age she is still as active in her service to the family as she was several decades ago. The narrator being black also means the reader interacts more with other black characters than if one of the sisters had been narrating. Therefore, I would say this is a slightly more well-balanced portrayal than some other books I’ve read.

A standout feature of The Orchid House is its descriptions of Dominica’s vibrant nature juxtaposed with its colonial decline. An example of a powerful quote from Lally is, “beauty and disease, beauty and sickness, beauty and horror: that was the island.” There are many similar moments in the novel that evoke the same emotions. The occurrence of a formidable storm also indicates the power that nature wields in the Caribbean, suggesting that it is strong enough to battle against the decay being brought on by its colonial past.

This book lives up to its reputation as a Caribbean classic – it deals with a lot of important themes whilst also regaling a very personal story. I would recommend it to anyone with an interest in recent Caribbean history.

Happy reading,

Imo x