Poems from the Edge of Extinction: An Anthology of Poetry in Endangered Languages by Chris McCabe

Abstract

women. From Chistiane, a longtime friend of Hortense who endures ineffable abuse and cruelty from the titular militants, to Mam’Soko, a village elder undisturbed by the war pressing against the edge of her property, the tales of these characters are concise and clear. Some passages, such as Christiane’s recollection of her life in PointeRouge , feel a bit too comprehensive and, as a result, verge on damaging the realism of the narrative device, Hortense’s journal. Though it is challenging to weave the context of a fictional nation into the novel without hindering its momentum, Mabanckou’s ability to do so is evident in his later work, such as Black Moses. Beyond Vercingetorix’s figures, Mabanckou crafts a setting as timeless as it is prophetic. Presumably an amalgam of Vietnam and the Republic of the Congo, Vietongo is described in the novel’s preface as a “mosaic of ethnicities” and, by extension, cultures. The novel’s parallels to reality are rampant, notably Pointe-Rouge’s reflection of Mabanckou’s home city, Pointe-Noire. Despite the homogenization of ideas and lifestyles, regionalism leads to the authoritative rule of the north and, in contrast, the violent radicalization of the south. The tug-of-war Mabanckou conjures is not only telling of Africa but the world at large— Hortense inquires whether, to some extent, we are not all Vietongolese. How quickly life’s joy can devolve into tragedy lingers in the shadow of every paragraph. Like Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, one is left only to presume the worst for the narrator. Yet, amid the rising volume of this dirge is an unshakable sense that humanity will weather the violence, a sentiment echoed in Hortense’s resolve. With The Negro Grandsons of Vercingetorix , Mabanckou stresses that even as violence is an accomplice to life, perseverance is synonymous. Daniel Bokemper Oklahoma City Poems from the Edge of Extinction: An Anthology of Poetry in Endangered Languages Ed. Chris McCabe. London. Chambers. 2019. 256 pages. LITERATURE STANDS ON the front lines, wherever noble human impulse confronts the void. Mass extinction of species , collapse of earth’s vital ecosystems, devastating environmental degradation, systemic impoverishment, and the fraying of hard-won systems of geopolitical cooperation all hang heavy on us in this generation . One often underappreciated aspect of this avalanche triggered by human overreach is the accelerating loss of our cultural diversity—of the peoples, traditions, and languages of our world. This beautiful volume helps counter such loss on a human scale, touching us individually and emotionally. It is a poetic seed bank, to be savored, yes—and possibly to help us preserve this diversity for our future selves. Poetry from dozens of endangered languages is organized in sections geographically, presented in original and English translation, and contextualized succinctly in a useful discussion section following each poem. In poem after poem, themes of loss, isolation, secret wisdom, and some surprising histories bubble continually over. There is mystical poetry from the Nomad Testament, by Hawad, in translation from the Tamajaght language of central Sahara: “O Ti-n-El / we have seen so many courtiers / butterfly travelers returning / from the vigil of the Pleiades / yet from your face / aflame with a smile / which sculpts fire lashes // No look has returned.” From the Zoque language of Mexico, there is Mikeas Sánchez’s “Jesus Never Understood My Grandmother’s Prayers” (trans. David Shook): “my grandmother’s tongue / smelled like rose apples / and her eyes lit up when she sang / with the brightness of a star. / Saint Michael Archangel never heard her / my grandmother’s prayers were sometimes blasphemies / jukis’tyt she said and the pain stopped / patsoke she yelled and time paused beneath her bed” (WLT, Sept. 2014, 31). Faroese poet Kim Simonson gives us this, in Randi Ward’s translation of December Morning: “A starling flock lights / on red and black currant bushes. / You’re crying on the phone again. / A land is a construct / that has to be recreated every day.” WORLDLIT.ORG 81 Equally fascinating are the texts following the poems—where we also get a glimpse into the surprising complexity of translation approaches employed across this map of this endangered poetic world. For example, the...