A new poetic form from Fiston Mwanza Mujila, lauded author of novels Tram 83 and The Villain's Dance and poetry collection The River in the Belly.
The Slaughterhouse of Dreams is rooted in a traditional Congolese form of praise poem that ties together proverbs, myths, fables, and riddles into a recitation, accompanied by music. In Mwanza Mujila’s skilled hands, this oral tradition becomes a new multimedia form, kasala, set to the page while retaining the remarkable drama, emotion, and celebration of its performed root. In The Slaughterhouse of Dreams, multiple lyrical traditions create a hybrid world of different global spaces and layers of time. Within this world, everything is possible, real and surreal at the same time. With the rhythmic, frenetic energy found in his poetry, prose, and performances, Fiston Mwanza Mujila reanimates and simultaneously deconstructs ideas of the (post)colonial environment.
Fiston Nasser Mwanza Mujila is a Congolese writer.. He now lives in Graz, Austria and is pursuing a PhD in Romance Languages. His writing has been awarded numerous prizes, including the Gold Medal at the 6th Jeux de la Francophonie in Beirut as well as the Best Text for Theater (State Theater, Mainz) in 2010. His poems, prose works, and plays are reactions to the political turbulence that has come in the wake of the independence of the Congo and its effect on day-to-day life. His debut novel Tram 83 was a French Voices 2014 grant recipient and won the Grand Prix du Premier Roman des SGDL, and was shortlisted for numerous other awards, including the Prix du Monde. Tram 83 has drawn comparisons to Fitzgerald, Céline, García Márquez, Hunter S. Thompson and even a painting by Hyeronimous Bosch or a piece by Coltrane.
I should preface this review by saying I am not generally a reader of poetry (and certainly not modern poetry); however, I requested this book because the author is Congolese, and that was a country I still needed to check off in my goal to read a book from every country in the world.
When I started reading these poems, I was rather confused by many of them. In some, references to colonialism etc. were clear, but in others I could not understand at all what they were about. When I reached the end of the book, however, I found several pages of notes. These helped to elucidate both the poetic style being employed and many of the people and events mentioned that I hadn't known. To my mind, rather than placing this at the end, it would have been helpful to have the relevant notes immediately after each poem they related to because, especially with an eBook, it is hard to flick back and forth between the poems and the notes. Even the interview at the end was helpful in placing the poems in the correct context so they made more sense and their meanings and the intentions behind them were clearer. If I had read this interview first, at the start of the book, and then read the poems I think it would have improved my experience reading them. Overall, I am giving this book 3 stars, noting all the while that I am not a big poetry reader to begin with, so my review should be read with that in mind. If you are planning to read this book, I would recommend reading the end matter before starting the poems, though, as they will then make more sense if, like me, you are approaching them with zero prior knowledge of the Congo or Congolese history.
I received this book as a free eBook ARC via Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.
A prayer, a summon, a chant, a song, a healing, a grieving, a mysticism, a dance. Fiston Mwanza Mujila is one of my favorite living writers and his new collection of poetry is an incredibly moving reading experience. Full of loss and sorrow and with a deep love of family and place, it's yet another one of his books where the musicality and rhythm pulses through the book. The interview at the end was especially insightful and eye-opening. "Poetry is, for me, a spiritual phenomenon. And each performance is a rite. I communicate with the trees, the ancestors, the departed. As soon as I invoke the spirit of my grandmother or the Tshishimbi, I enter into this other world."