Still on spring nights green fields
Are warmed by light sun,
That is what the Bishop of Reykjavik told the “Undersigned” (from then onwards known as “EmBi”: Emissary of the Bishop) in Halldór Laxness’ strange novel Under the Glacier. I had begun reading the book in 2009 and it took me slightly over three years to finish a “simple” 200-pages novel.
We began with an oral conversation, recorded with my phone, in her sitting room, since we happened to be in Ile-Ife together at the moment. A conversation that cannot be made public, at least for now, for the simple fact that we were so self-aware, so within the cocoon of our ‘literary ties.’ When I used those words – literary ties – Ayobami had a good laugh; earlier I had mentioned that I couldn’t extricate our friendship from our creative comradeship. This friendship, which has now spanned close to five years, began simply, when I asked her if she writes.
I wrote to Dango: “This, my friend, is a feat of spontaneous introspection, and that has been my aim for this project from the start. I always imagine that I am with you in a live event, speculating on the creative process.” I had, minutes earlier, received responses to the second batch of questions. And in my mind there is nothing more to be said. Except to add that in the hours following this conversation, I have looked upon my creative duty with a newer, fresher, outlook.
I owe you, Dango, a lot.
If one sees a handful of powerful and rich men at the pinnacle of greatness and fortune while the mass crawls in obscurity and misery, it is because the former value the things they enjoy only to the extent that the others are deprived of them, and they would cease to be happy if, without change in their own state, the People ceased to be miserable." Discourse on Inequality, p. 95.
On March 6, Warscapes magazine—a welcome newcomer to the international arts, politics, and literary scene edited by the passionate Bhakti Shringarpure—hosted “An Evening of Poetry from the Horn of Africa,” a night I won’t soon forget.
Perhaps it’s her career in advertising that makes Suzanne a professional. I mean the practiced ease with which she responded to my questions, which although we corresponded via email, I could feel. And I am humbled by how someone with so much talent can be undemanding, moderately ambitious, as though the estimate of the literary world counts less than her estimate of her craft. There are a handful of Suzanne’s stories out there, but each story differs in range of vision, in outlook. Easily, we find a writer in search of something other than fame, something deeper, more human. Please ensure to click the links on the page this conversation appears.
I hope it will be clear, upon completion of this project, that Gambit is interested in a multifaceted rendering of artistic indulgence. That said, Donald Molosi is an example of an artist I hope to become – standing readily at the point where art out-ranges technique or form. I am equally learning that artists can be good friends, irrespective of virtual distances. I am keen to call Donald my friend, especially because he is the quickest, so far in these series, to respond to questions. His energy overwhelmed mine.
Singaporean writer Dave Chua won a Singapore Literature Prize Commendation Award in 1996 for his novel Gone Case, which he recently adapted into a two-volume graphic novel in collaboration with artist and writer Koh Hong Teng. The second volume was released in October 2011. Mr.