Mariama Bâ (1929–1981)

What a stunning, moving novel! Set shortly after the decolonization of Senegal, the story is written as a letter from one friend to another. I wasn't sure how much I'd have in common with the protagonist; we live in different times, on different continents, have different religions, and come from different races. But the ideas within the novel, such as the examination of the changes in Senegalese culture before, during, and after colonization, are still very much relevant today, and show more resonated with me across the Atlantic. I haven't connected with a novel like this in years. Who has not experienced heartbreak? Which parent has not worried for the well being and happiness of their child? Who has not struggled with the expectations of your culture, or fought to find happiness within yourself? Absolutely fantastic. show less

This was a solid read. Short, but impactful.

Ramatoulaye, a middle-aged teacher in 1960s post-independence Sénégal, looks back on her life, which fell apart after her beloved husband of many years took a new, younger wife. Islam technically allows for this, but Ramatoulaye cannot but see this as an act of betrayal that merits a break-up, emotional as well as in terms of living arrangements.

The book is less concerned with the trappings of fiction and of narrative throughline than it is show more with sketching the lay of the post-colonial land and the clash between traditional, islamic conceptions of families and the Western ones, both of which come with uncomfortable baggage and neither of which feels fulfilling. Cultural ideals and taboos come into conflict, and navigating them is a matter of staving off the inevitable failing as long as possible -- a situation made even more complex across generational gaps and class divides.

Consequently, the text feels more like a mulling over of large-scale societal issues, though it thankfully steers clear from preachiness. The fact that this novel takes the form of a long letter to a friend helps a great deal: addressing an Other, a ‘you’ lends the book the flavour of a discussion rather than a lecture. It treats the reader as a sounding board with which the author can clarify her own thoughts to herself as much as to her audience. Furthermore, Bâ drew on events from her own life, and that, too, goes a long way to grounding the plot in real life. So long a letter definitely has an agenda, but it’s not obnoxious about it. show less

A fascinating & bittersweet look at women's roles (written by a woman) in post-colonial, male-dominated Senegal. Interestingly enough, I read So Long a Letter quite by chance after having just finished Xala by Ousmane Sembène, a male Senegalese author.

Xala centers around a story of an upper-class Islamic businessman who is marrying his third (and much younger) wife. Part of the discussions in Xala center around the roles of the wives, the resentments between them, etc.... So Long a Letter show more also is viewing the life of women in polygamous marriages, emotionally & articulately poured out in a letter/diary format that a new widow writes to her friend. Part of her angst & sorrow centers around the fact that after 30 years of marriage, her husband married a second wife (who has been a wife for five years by the time the man dies). There's a lot of depth & emotion to this story, many facets of life examined; Senegal in the novella is on the cusp of various social changes as the country straddles the traditional African ways, yet also encompasses some of their inherited European mores. Mariama Bâ was apparently a well-known feminist in Senegal, and I'm happy that serendipity led me to reading So Long a Letter immediately after Xala, partly for the female vs. male view of polygamous marriage in Senegal, as well as the examination of gender roles there.

So Long A Letter won the first (in 1980) Noma Award for Publishing in Africa & rightly deserves it, imo. This is a well-done, touching look at the confines, compromises, & choices that comprise one's lifetime. A recommended novella, especially if you're looking to read African literature. show less

What does it mean to be a Senegalese woman living in a society dominated by male attitudes? Where does self worth and fulfillment fit in? Just because a society condones polygamy doesn't mean every individual expects it, embraces it, or even wants to practice it. When Ramatoulaye's husband of thirty plus years takes a new (much younger) wife her emotions run the gamut. Baffled (Wasn't she a good wife?). Stunned (They have twelve children together. Wasn't she a good mother?). Embarrassed show more (What will the community think of her being replaced?). Insecure (Exactly what is her place in society now?). When Madou leaves her a widow, in a long letter to her friend Aissatou, Ramatoulaye recounts her life with Madou. She is, at times, reminiscent and even wistful for a life gone by. In the end, it is a new tragedy that sets Ramatoulaye on a new path of acceptance. show less