The Fourth Century tells of the quest by young Mathieu Béluse to discover the lost history of his country, Martinique. Aware that the officially recorded version he learned in school omits and distorts, he turns to a quimboiseur named Papa Longoué. This old man of the forest, a healer, seer, and storyteller, knows the oral tradition and its relation to the powers of the land and the forces of nature. He tells of the love-hate relationship between the Longoué and Béluse families, whose ancestors were brought as slaves to Martinique. Upon arrival, Longoué immediately escaped and went to live in the hills as a maroon. Béluse remained in slavery. The intense relationship that had formed between the two men in Africa continued and came to encompass the relations between their masters, or, in the case of Longoué, his would-be master, and their descendants. The Fourth Century closes the gap between the families as Papa Longoué, last of his line, conveys the history to Mathieu Béluse, who becomes his heir.
Édouard Glissant was a French writer, poet, philosopher, and literary critic from Martinique. He is widely recognised as one of the most influential figures in Caribbean thought and cultural commentary.
This book is ultimately about language. Glissant makes beautiful and startling images: reminds me of the metaphysical poets. It is a little challenging to see the history --as we usually think of that--beyond the poetry. It is the history of Martinique as the history of the slaves who were brought there. The slaves brought their personal histories with them which sets up a central conflict between the maroons, that is, those who escaped and lived in the mountains, and those who continued to be enslaved. The story goes through several generations that I didn't keep straight. At the end is a genealogy that I could have used earlier. But I'm sure Glissant preferred that I focus on the magic of his language rather than the logic of a genealogy. Not an easy read, but I couldn't stop. Really beautiful.
This book was quite intellectually demanding to read, which I enjoyed at times, but I would say it mostly made the reading experience trend towards feeling like a chore. There are so many moments of the most beautiful writing ever, with these complex, multi-perspectival run on sentences with lush imagery and poetic flair, but there are also so many strange rabbit holes and tangents that seem to lead to nothing. Granted, the book seems heavily steeped in the history of Martinique, which I am not familiar with, so it's very likely that my opinion would change if I were, say, a person who had a deeper relationship with the place.
My biggest complaint about the book is its pacing. I loved probably the first half of the book, which covered 1-2 generates of the Longoues and Beluses each, after which the 'timeline' speeds up abruptly and the characters get quickly brought up and discarded (e.g. Antistrophe, Ti-ren). I'm not sure why that happened.
I do love the interplay of oral vs. written history and how that intersects with African traditions (which I take to be partly embodied by Papa Longoue and the role of quimboiseur) and the long lasting effects of colonialism. The book is very explicit about the relationship between narration and truth, and raises interesting questions about how continual re-tellings of the same story may be distortion of the truth in one sense, but may actually get one closer to the truth, in another sense.
The closing chapter was also very good, hinting at the future retellings that need to be told regarding the matriarchs in the family, and shifting role of Matthieu as a quimboiseur of sorts, and all that.
Also, huge shoutout to the translator, Betsy Wing. I feel as though this is a book that would feel so different in the original language of French, since it so heavily deals with language as an artifact, but the English translation was quite pleasant.
An intricate meditation on Antillean identity and how it can be created in the aftermath of slavery and colonialism, on how knowledge of the past is constructed and recorded, and on how inter generational transmission of knowledge is interrupted by violence.
The text narrates how an old seer shares the story of Martinique and two families to a young man seeking knowledge of his and his community’s past. The seer uses non-linear narration, and focuses on the emotive and psychic aspects of history, rather than the types of records kept in official histories. Initially the young man is confused, does not understand why he is being told this story, and does not believe details of the story. He gradually realizes the details can be blurred without changing the essence of the narrative - one of rage and reclamation of identity after the Middle Passage.
The text is immersive. As I read it, I felt gradually drawn into a more distant series of images, feeling a great distance between the imagery of the story playing in my mind and my life around me. The fluidity of the narration also required re-reading many chapters and pages. The text itself is structured in this immersive way: the self-referential nature of the story the seer tells, the jumping around in time, and the way the narrative slowly winds around you until you finally learn of the original tension between the Longues and Beluses. There is an elegant symmetry to the story, contrasting the original source of the conflict between the two families with the relation between Papa Longue and Mattheiu. Finally, the text suggests that the opposition of these two families, between those who refuse and those who accept, may be ineffective, and what really matters is using the learnings of that conflict to fashion something that can be used and inhabited by someone like a Targin or a Celat.
But, despite being engrossing in this fashion, the text felt detached. It did not have the same emotive power as a text like Beloved or Lose Your Mother, both of which explore similar themes.
I had a hard time getting into this one. The style of writing was a little intimidating at first, and I became confused by the structure of the narrative. The Fourth Century or Le Quatrième siècle as it is known in French, is the story of two families, The Longoué family and the Béluse family through generations of slavery in the Martinique. The story begins generations after the abolition of slavery where Mathieu Béluse asks Papa Longoué the story if their origins. As Papa Longoué begins his narrative, generations begin to blur in this tapestry of history spanning four centuries. For the Longoué family, the first Longoué decides to become a maroon (a slave who escaped the plantation) and live on the outskirts of society. Meanwhile, for the Béluse family, the first Béluse ends up becoming a house slave. Through the interactions of the Béluse family with the Longoué, the history of the Martinique and the abolition of slavery is revealed. As I had mentioned, instead of using a traditionally linear method to tell the history of the Longoués and Béluses, it is unclear where generations end and begin. Luckily at the back of the book there was a genealogy tree! I had initially begun reading this novel in its original language of French. My comprehension of French is relatively decent, however, French of the Martinique coupled with the confusing plot forced me to switch to an English edition. Once I switched to the English edition, my troubles were not over. My difficulty to engage in this novel is of no fault to Glissant who writes eloquently. Rather, as someone who is not from the Martinique, there were a lot of modes of expression that didn't register until my university professor (who is an expert on Glissant) explained the cultural background. I would suggest to those who are unfamiliar with the culture of the Martinique to do a little research beforehand.
A challenging, engrossing read about the lost history of Martinique, a Caribbean island occupied by the French Republic, and the discovery / multiple transformations of collective identity in the face of slavery, deportation, and colonialism. Framed as a series of conversations between a young man (Béluse) and a "quimboiseur" (Longoué, a forest-dwelling shaman), we observe Béluse's un-learning of the distorted teachings of his education, replaced by the healer's oral retelling of their two genealogies and the central conflicts of their ancestors -- those who escaped slavery to live as maroons vs. those who remained enslaved at various plantations. Generations sweep by in turbulent, metaphysical, Faulkner-esque prose-poetry as the families intermingle, inter-marry, battle, and eventually conjoin -- with the narrative itself frequently untethered from the text.
At times, it felt like I was reading from a distance, other times at microscopic scale; contextually, this makes sense, but made for a difficult read nonetheless.
Glissant pens beautiful, disorienting sentences about the unknowable past, cultural destruction and reclamation, and the reversal of indoctrination. Some incredible scenes of slave rebellions and tropical hurricanes. Tough but worth the effort.
This classic novel from the 1960s has now reinforced for me why Glissant is one of the towering Caribbean intellectuals and Francophone writers of the last 50 years.