There’s a sign on the wall
But she wants to be sure
‘Cause you know sometimes words have
Two meanings
From "Stairway to Heaven" -- Led Zeppelin
What if Paradise Lost were recast in an African setting, its themes of rebellion, disobedience, greed, innocence lost, and redemption intact, its trickster characters both earthly and heavenly also intact, but its storyline adjusted to suit a more contemporary audience and adjusted to avoid having the young (or older) skeptic call it a fairy tale?
No? Not interested? Never read Paradise Lost? Read it sometime back and didn't care much for it then so couldn't care less now?
Okay. What if an errant male from the "spirit" world (a djombie) had his power to create and manage chaos stripped from him by a superior being, and given to an earthly African woman, and what if he then devises a scheme to go amongst humans (her kind) and take it back from her by any means necessary?
Interested? Who do you think will win? Handsome, disgraced, trickster djombie, or earthly, African woman, not much to look at, not remarkably intelligent, but a great cook? And how about if their encounter--African woman and djombie--is complicated by characters from both their worlds who seek to either help or hinder them? Intrigued yet?
What do you suppose would happen if the djombie and the woman wound up in each other's company (alone) for an extended journey, during which he tries to prove he deserves to have his power returned to him? (This after he realizes he can't take it by force). What would be the outcome of their encounter / journey?
Like other types of fiction, what if is a question speculative, fantasy fiction is mostly concerned with. The main difference may be that speculative fantasy fiction has more room in which to roam. Karen Lord's debut novel, Redemption in Indigo, poses several provocative what ifs about human behavior and about societies, and presents possible responses, which partake in the realm of the surreal, but always with the awareness of the eyes and ears of the skeptic.
When we first meet the novel's major female character, Paama (the modern-day recast of Milton's Eve in Paradise Lost, the subject of African lore who is given powers beyond human capacity, or whatever you make of her), she is concerned with a personal dilemma: she has left her husband and returned to her parents' home. Paama is not a broken woman though; she has managed to circumvent the shame and vicious gossip expected of her return because she is a good cook:
An inadequate statement. Anyone can cook, but the true talent belongs to those who are capable of gently ensnaring with their delicacies, winning compliance with the mere suggestion that there might not be any goodies for a caller who persisted in prying. Such was Paama.
Paama's husband, who is as extraordinary a glutton as she is a cook, comes in search of her and upon his arrival has several food-related mishaps, which make him look ridiculous and embarrass his wife and her family. That storyline alone--a man's self-centered greed, a woman burdened with such a man, a family's shame, a village's concern--could fulfill the proportions of a novel desirous of dealing with human beings, their relations with each other, and their societies, but the story is made even broader when other-worldly supreme beings step in and give Paama's fate new direction, and take her lifestory beyond the scope of the village.
Paama becomes an unwilling traveler on a journey with the male spirit--whose power over chaos she has been given--as companion. He seeks to convince her to return his power to him, and so attain redemption for the misdeeds that caused him to have his power taken away in the first place. Despite her reluctance, she gains knowledge. On a personal level, she realizes truths about her powers and limitations, and on a higher plane, she comes to understand the distinctions and connections between her village world and the world beyond. She returns home determined to face and contend with her own earthly fate--essentially, her life with and without her husband.
The story is told in an easy conversational manner by a narrator whose apparent anxieties about the skeptic looking over his/her shoulder, or about the listener with the puzzled frown on his face, are at times humorous, and at times tiring . . . too meticulously concerned with audience. Though, It is probably that meticulous concern that results in a story tempered with just the right amount of the earthly and the surreal to be engagingly wondrous and ordinary.
Perhaps, the best way to tell of its fine-tempered quality is to cite from two moments in the novel...
An old village storyteller explains his storytelling philosophy:
I travel to collect stories, and I return to tell the stories of one place to the people of another. That is the important part of the trade. You must never tell people their own stories. They have no interest in them, or they think they can tell them better themselves. Give them a stranger's life, and then they are content.
Yet, at another point in the novel, the narrator refuses to elaborate on a certain djombie character, and asks the reader,
Why should I encourage you in this inappropriate interest in beings you cannot fully understand?
Somewhere between that old traveler / storyteller's expert knowledge of what a reader is more likely to be interested in, and the teller of this tale's equally expert decision when to cut off the story, is Redemption in Indigo's successful maneuvering between the surreal and the earthly. My guess is that the skeptic (I am one) will be delighted.
But maybe the skeptic isn't the only one to be concerned about...
West who?!!
A day or two ago, Karen Lord tweeted in response to this review: People, the author is West Indian, not the character. The source is West African, not the character. It's FANTASY! Made up world, yes?
According to her the mixup has been happening too often to ignore it.
Should she or shouldn't she ignore it? What do you think?
Meanwhile, let me know if you'd like to have a copy of Redemption in Indigo when you comment, or tell me by email: signifyinguyana[at]gmail.com
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Redemption in Indigo, by Karen Lord (Small Beer Press, 2010, 224 pp).
