In an interview with the Booker Foundation in 2023, you mentioned making notes while working as a security guard. How did you transform it? stands heavy?
It (being a security guard) was a lazy experience. It was very boring. In most countries, the security guard does not perform any real work. Because security is not an issue. What it means is to tell people that there is security (in place). So, companies put out someone well dressed to say to people coming into their big shops of consumerism, ‘Hey, look at us; Check out our shop. ‘Look over there, there’s a big black man who guarantees you safety.’
On the very first day of my job, I was surprised by the consumerist behavior of people. Before inventing the imagination for it, I decided to document everything. My purpose was to document what I was seeing for my brothers and friends… and to say, ‘Look, we’re living in this country, but we’re not like those people. Or, (perhaps), we are like those people.’ I think we are normal people, but when we enter a store, we become crazy about capitalism and consumerism.
The same job – being a security guard – that makes you feel purposeless is at the heart of the techno-capitalism that is spreading its roots everywhere. How do you understand this?
I think human resources will always be there as a form of security because we mistrust easily. Even though there are (many) cameras everywhere, people look for other people to protect themselves because you don’t trust the cameras. This is just for your respect. However, you can trust a man. You say to yourself, if anything happens, someone will protect me. But actually this is not true. For example, if someone comes up with an AK-47, a security guard will run away due to the same level of fear you would have if you saw a guy casually open fire. So, a security guard is like a concept; This is not a real thing. It’s the mantra of the imagination – it’s the imagination that people have bought into.
Interesting that you say you can’t trust the camera. But, given that you’re a filmmaker, you trust the camera. How do you explain that?
My point (what I do) is that we have to fight against this whole system – the system we live under, capitalism: it’s imaginary. All this Hollywood, Bollywood and advertising – these are all imaginary concepts. Books also.
So the question is, can you fight something imaginary only with politics, only with ideology? How do you fight it? You fight it with your imagination: to make other people think, ‘Hey, my world can be like this, not this big (you’re trying to sell me)’. In this fight, I am prepared to use every means available to help people imagine something new, something other than capitalism.
stands heavy is an excellent genre-heavy satire. Often, writers are convinced by a character speaking to them or by a story that they cannot put aside. But in your case, it appears that style was a major concern. How much importance do you give to it?
Style is fundamental to me. Suppose, I can tell you a story (pointing to the place where we are talking) that I walked from the hotel to this festival. But this is just information: I have seen this and that. What does this report mean? When you find a style you find a way to share this information. Therefore, style is the most basic thing for storytelling.
In my country, in my village, storytellers are respected. Because they have style. In France, novelists such as Romain Gary (1914–1980) and Louis-Ferdinand Céline (1894–1961) have noted that it is all about style. Because, you know, everyone can understand what’s going on. Everyone has the intelligence necessary to know what is right and what is wrong. As I said before, it’s a question of imagination, starting with style. In my opinion, if you don’t have style, don’t write; Don’t make a film.
We must create a world in which the things we value most – equality, open-mindedness, intelligence, culture, style, etc. – can exist. And intelligence – this is common in all species. We are all almost intelligent. We are all intelligent animals. So everyone understands everything. Then, how do you say more? You put it in style, and you go far beyond what you wanted to say. The genre enables you to do more than read or watch; Expressed in better style, (the experience) stays with you. So, style is very important to me.
Award-winning translator Frank Wynne translated your book. How did they translate your French style into English? During the translation, what types of conflicts arose, if any, and how did you two resolve them?
Intelligence is the most shared thing in the world. Now: You’ve read the book; You understand it, and you probably enjoy the style in which it is said. But, you see, I don’t say anything extraordinary. That’s just my way of saying it. But you understand it as Frank said it in the book because he read it in the French that I wrote. And he understood it exceptionally well, which is fundamental to being a translator.
Regarding the conflict: He called me one day to ask about some words. In France, my reputation is that I’m very sharp stylistically, so he wanted to check something out. I did not answer his question. Instead, I said, you are in charge of it (translation). I admit that you may be wrong. Something will be translated poorly, and I accept that, just as I accept that I can write a bad book.
I am African. Our language is one of the margins. When the French or English people colonized us, they hired translators to talk to our people. They did not know our language. But they were able to do what they were able to do. Therefore, in translation, you ultimately have to compromise on something. You have to accept this because your natural language may be poor at conveying something, but in translation it can sometimes appear richer. Therefore, a translator is a better referee for such things. That’s why I said to Frank, that’s the only thing I ask of you. And he said, thank you!
What was it like to be on the shortlist for the International Booker Prize?
That was madness. That was absolute madness to me. Because, you know, I live in Grand-Bassam – a small town next to the big city of Abidjan in Cote d’Ivoire, West Africa, so it was crazy to me to go there, to England, and see how fast these people read me.
They understood it much better than the French people. But you also feel that the British are superior to you because being colonized has given you an inferiority complex. Interestingly, the story is that I was a sympathetic African security guard who wrote quite a good book. But I never saw it that way: I was always a novelist. I guess the French didn’t understand it. But in England no one asked me what your job was, when you were a security guard, nothing like that. Instead, he focused on the book. On the story. I could have written the book like a classic but I didn’t because I wanted to leave this routine path and go into the bushes and find subtle substance to express my ideas. That’s what I did. And he appreciated it.
What kind of writing is being created now in French literature? Do you think that in the French publishing industry a certain type of writing is prioritized by publishing houses over others?
The French are known for their fondness for classic literature. This is good. I have no problem with this. I like the classics. But every generation has to bring something else, something other than what is based on the classics. Because the French publishing industry is still in a classics hangover, people, like monkeys, like parrots, copy the classics or whatever the French consider excellent literature.
However, this is not the African way of thinking. We are always creating something new. Or to give things a new look. We are forced to do this in order to survive. So, being irregular was not a problem for me. But (the French) find it difficult to understand, so you have to prove it to them so that they look at you. You have to say: ‘Hey, I know your classics. I know Romain Gary. I know Alexandre Dumas (1802-1870). I know Louis-Ferdinand Celine. But listen to me. I like Ahmadou Kourouma (1927-2003). I like Wole Soyinka (1934-present). I like them…’ And why go anywhere else? Indian literature is absolutely crazy; How constantly it reimagines things and adapts itself to the world! But they, the French, these people are sticking to the classics.
A friend of mine, Mohammed Mbouger Sarr, is the author of The most secret history of men (Translated from French by Lara Verganaud), who won the Prix Goncourt, had already planned it! He told me, “Gouge’, fuck you and your stylistic mannerisms. I’m going to write a huge book, a new classic that’s very good, like French books, and they (French publishing) will be at my feet.” (laughs) And it worked. it worked! And you know what? I have no problem with this because I have a different plan. I guess I have time. Good literature is right around the corner, and around that corner is Gauze. And if they (the French) don’t understand it now, they don’t know that we are their future. We will rule the city. We will rule. And this is the plan. To rule over their city. Let them stick with their classics because their children… they will read and write like us. And I think I am right to think so.
Saurabh Sharma is a Delhi-based writer and freelance journalist. She can be found on Instagram/X: @writerly_life.
