Simone Schwarz-Bart
Author of The Bridge of Beyond
About the Author
Image credit: CUNY
Series
Works by Simone Schwarz-Bart
בת-האיים הפלאית 1 copy
Associated Works
Daughters of Africa: An International Anthology of Words and Writings by Women of African Descent from the Ancient Egyptian to the Present (1992) — Contributor — 186 copies
Her True-True Name : an anthology of women's writing from the Caribbean (1989) — Contributor — 48 copies
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Birthdate
- 1938-08-01
- Gender
- female
- Occupations
- novelist
playwright - Awards and honors
- Commandeur, Ordre des Arts et des Lettres
- Relationships
- Schwarz-Bart, André (husband)
- Short biography
- Simone Schwarz-Bart, née Brumant, was born possibly in Saintes, in western France, or in Pointe-à-Pitre on on the island of Guadeloupe, as she had stated both. She was living in France with her parents, who were originally from Guadeloupe, at the start of World War II. Her father stayed to fight with the French army, while she and her mother returned to Guadeloupe.
At the age of 18, while studying in Paris, she met André Schwarz-Bart, who encouraged her to take up writing as a career. The couple married in 1961 and lived with their two children in Senegal, Switzerland, Paris, and Guadeloupe.
Together they wrote two historical novels: Un plat de porc aux bananes vertes (A Plate of Green Bananas, 1967) and La Mulâtresse Solitude (A Woman Named Solitude, 1972). In 1989, they wrote a six-volume encyclopaedia called Hommage à la femme noire (In Praise of Black Women).
In 1972, she independently wrote Pluie et vent sur Télumée Miracle (The Bridge of Beyond), which is considered one of the masterpieces of Caribbean literature. She has since published several other novels.
Simone Schwarz-Bart has also written for the theater, including a one-act play, Ton beau capitaine (Your Handsome Captain). - Nationality
- France
- Birthplace
- Saintes, Charente-Maritime, France
Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe, France - Places of residence
- Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe
Paris, France
Dakar, Senegal
Switzerland
Goyave, Guadeloupe - Associated Place (for map)
- France
Members
Reviews
Another fabulous book brought to my attention by NYRB publications. This novel was written in the 1970s and takes place on the French-colonized island of Guadalupe. It is a woman-centered book, following the life of Telumee and her mother and grandmother. The island is still scarred by the enslavement it experienced on the sugarcane farms. Telumee's life is blessed by her strong relationship with her grandmother and her love of the island. But she has sadnesses involving her relationships show more and the economic realities of the island.
This book is written beautifully. It was published right around when Toni Morrison began publishing her works and I found many similarities in the writing. I think, since they were writing simultaneously, it is unlikely they were influenced by each other, but they have a similar tone and approach.
The Bridge of Beyond is somehow both fanciful and gritty at the same time. There's a strong thread of the supernatural/spiritual, but also the grim realities of violence and poverty. I really loved it and highly recommend it. show less
This book is written beautifully. It was published right around when Toni Morrison began publishing her works and I found many similarities in the writing. I think, since they were writing simultaneously, it is unlikely they were influenced by each other, but they have a similar tone and approach.
The Bridge of Beyond is somehow both fanciful and gritty at the same time. There's a strong thread of the supernatural/spiritual, but also the grim realities of violence and poverty. I really loved it and highly recommend it. show less
Set on the French West Indian island of Guadeloupe, The Bridge of Beyond traces a century of history of the Lougandor women beginning after the end of slavery. Five generations are followed, but the main story revolves around Toussine, the woman known as "Queen Without a Name," and her granddaughter, Telumee. The surprise in the book is that the reader can end up feeling such empathy with characters not fully developed in the traditional literary sense. Schwarz-Bart's women are both show more long-lived and ephemeral like the fairies and witches of the fairy-tale realm. Her entire novel has an otherworldly feel to it. It is a kind of magical tribute to women, self-reliance, living, and the power of self, and also addresses the ever-present West Indian literary theme of transcendence. One of the nicest pleasures of reading the book is the total envelopment one feels with nature. Schwarz-Bart's imagery is filled with references to the sun, moon, stars, flowers, trees, rivers, waves, and the sea. The imagery is repetitious until it becomes almost a written chant in which the story lives. A truly magical literary experience with a feminist foundation. show less
This heartbreakingly beautiful novel is at once a celebration of human survival and joy, a meditation on the evil and tragedy and sorrow that are also an integral part of life, a vivid description of a time, place, and way of life, and a penetrating look at what it means to be black and a woman in post-slavery but still colonial Guadeloupe. In prose that can be poetic, mythical, and down-to-earth, Simone Schwarz-Bart tells the tale of four generations of women in the Lougandor family. The show more tale is narrated by the youngest, Télumée, who focuses on her life and that of Toussine, the grandmother who raised her and who is also know as Queen Without a Name. By portraying Télumée's life from her early childhood through young womanhood, love found and love betrayed and lost, foster motherhood, and into old age, Schwarz-Bart also portrays the life of the communities in which she lives.
The women in this book experience a world of contrast: the bliss of love and the heartache when it is no more, the blessing of children and the unbearable pain of their loss, the pleasures of tending their crops and gardens and taking care of their homes and the viciousness of working on the sugar plantations and their factories and in the homes of white colonialists, the richness of the natural world and the poverty of their homes and lives. The beauty and lushness of the landscape, its sounds and smells, are ever-present, mythical tales are interwoven with the story of the Lougandor women, some women are witches and healers, and death is always waiting. Queen Without a Name and her friend, the witch Ma Cia, are fascinating and deep and wise women. This is an intense book, and I had to read it a little bit at a time so as not to be overwhelmed.
Early in the book, soon after Télumée meets her first love, Elie, Queen Without a Name tells her:
" 'My little ember," she'd whisper, 'if you ever get on a horse, keep good hold of the reins so that it's not the horse that rides you.' And as I clung to her, breathing in her nutmeg smell. Queen Without a Name would sigh, caress me, and go on. 'Behind one pain there is another. Sorrow is a wave without end. But the horse mustn't ride you; you must ride it.' ", pp. 72-73
This metaphor is carried throughout the book, as is another about needing the wind to lift the sails of one's boat and move forward in life no matter how deep and paralyzing the sorrow and the pain. "And so, throughout all her last days, Grandmother was whistling up a wind for me, to fill my sails so I could resume my voyage." In fact, the original tile of the book is "Pluie et vent sur Télumée miracle," or "Rain and Wind on Télumée Miracle" ("Miracle" is a nickname she gets late in life).
Schwarz-Bart's writing is so beautiful and so wise that I marked many passages as I read. Here are two.
The Queen to Télumée:
" 'My child, you will feel just like one deceased, your flesh will be dead flesh and you will no longer feel the knife thrusts. And then you will be born again, for life were not good, in spite of everything, the earth would be uninhabited. It must be that something remains after even the greatest sorrows, for men do not want to die before their time. As for you, little coconut flower, don't you bother your head about all that. Your job is to shine now, so shine. And when the day comes that misfortune says to you, Here I am --- then at least you'll have shone.' " pp. 138-139
Télumée reflecting in old age.
"It's a long time now since I left off my battle robe, and a long time since I've been able to hear the battle's din. I am too old, much too old for all that, and the only pleasure left me on earth is to smoke, to smoke my old pipe here in my doorway, curled up on my little stool, in the sea breeze that caresses my old carcass like soothing balm. Sun risen, sun set, I am always there on my little stool, far away, eyes gazing into space, seeking my time through the smoke of my pipe, seeing again all the downpours that have drenched me and the winds that have buffeted me. But rains and winds are nothing if first one star rises for you in the sky, then another, then another as happened to me, who very nearly carried off all the happiness in the world. And even if the stars set, they have shone, and their light still twinkles there where it has come to rest: in your second heart." p. 238
As a side note, one aspect of the language of this book took some getting used to: Schwarz-Bart's characters refer to themselves, proudly, as Negresses and Negroes. The edition I read was just reissued by NYRB, but the translation is the original 1974 one (based on the 1972 French original), and my assumption is that these are literal translations of what Schwarz-Bart wrote, and of how her characters really would have talked, although they sound odd to modern ears. show less
The women in this book experience a world of contrast: the bliss of love and the heartache when it is no more, the blessing of children and the unbearable pain of their loss, the pleasures of tending their crops and gardens and taking care of their homes and the viciousness of working on the sugar plantations and their factories and in the homes of white colonialists, the richness of the natural world and the poverty of their homes and lives. The beauty and lushness of the landscape, its sounds and smells, are ever-present, mythical tales are interwoven with the story of the Lougandor women, some women are witches and healers, and death is always waiting. Queen Without a Name and her friend, the witch Ma Cia, are fascinating and deep and wise women. This is an intense book, and I had to read it a little bit at a time so as not to be overwhelmed.
Early in the book, soon after Télumée meets her first love, Elie, Queen Without a Name tells her:
" 'My little ember," she'd whisper, 'if you ever get on a horse, keep good hold of the reins so that it's not the horse that rides you.' And as I clung to her, breathing in her nutmeg smell. Queen Without a Name would sigh, caress me, and go on. 'Behind one pain there is another. Sorrow is a wave without end. But the horse mustn't ride you; you must ride it.' ", pp. 72-73
This metaphor is carried throughout the book, as is another about needing the wind to lift the sails of one's boat and move forward in life no matter how deep and paralyzing the sorrow and the pain. "And so, throughout all her last days, Grandmother was whistling up a wind for me, to fill my sails so I could resume my voyage." In fact, the original tile of the book is "Pluie et vent sur Télumée miracle," or "Rain and Wind on Télumée Miracle" ("Miracle" is a nickname she gets late in life).
Schwarz-Bart's writing is so beautiful and so wise that I marked many passages as I read. Here are two.
The Queen to Télumée:
" 'My child, you will feel just like one deceased, your flesh will be dead flesh and you will no longer feel the knife thrusts. And then you will be born again, for life were not good, in spite of everything, the earth would be uninhabited. It must be that something remains after even the greatest sorrows, for men do not want to die before their time. As for you, little coconut flower, don't you bother your head about all that. Your job is to shine now, so shine. And when the day comes that misfortune says to you, Here I am --- then at least you'll have shone.' " pp. 138-139
Télumée reflecting in old age.
"It's a long time now since I left off my battle robe, and a long time since I've been able to hear the battle's din. I am too old, much too old for all that, and the only pleasure left me on earth is to smoke, to smoke my old pipe here in my doorway, curled up on my little stool, in the sea breeze that caresses my old carcass like soothing balm. Sun risen, sun set, I am always there on my little stool, far away, eyes gazing into space, seeking my time through the smoke of my pipe, seeing again all the downpours that have drenched me and the winds that have buffeted me. But rains and winds are nothing if first one star rises for you in the sky, then another, then another as happened to me, who very nearly carried off all the happiness in the world. And even if the stars set, they have shone, and their light still twinkles there where it has come to rest: in your second heart." p. 238
As a side note, one aspect of the language of this book took some getting used to: Schwarz-Bart's characters refer to themselves, proudly, as Negresses and Negroes. The edition I read was just reissued by NYRB, but the translation is the original 1974 one (based on the 1972 French original), and my assumption is that these are literal translations of what Schwarz-Bart wrote, and of how her characters really would have talked, although they sound odd to modern ears. show less
“The fact is that a mere nothing, a thought, a whim, a particle of dust can change the course of a life”
I came to know of Simone Schwarz-Bart through Maryse Condé, like Simone Schwarz-Bart also a Guadeloupean writer, whose work I deeply admire, who praised her work highly. Below is a picture of the writers together that warmed my heart:
(simone is seated on the left and maryse on the right)
The story is narrated by Telumee, an old impoverished and solitary woman who recounts her life and show more the lives of the women she’s descended from, beginning with her great-grandmother Minerva who was a freed slave. A story centering the Black women of Guadeloupe told with sweeping richness.
With luminous description, Simone Schwarz-Bart creates Fond-Zombie, La Folie and the other towns and places this story is set in. From the trees to the waves to the flowers to the mountains and of course the people themselves as well, in their hardships, conflicts, kindness, endurance, wisdom. Each word an intricate layer that went to build this fantastic story and a world of colour and marvelous. This book is a song of life.
Throughout the whole book the mark of slavery is felt, for instance at some point Telumee remarks:
“For the first time in my life I realized that slavery was not some foreign country, some distant region from which a few very old people came, like the two or three who still survived in Fond-Zombi . It had all happened here, in our hills and valleys, perhaps near this clump of bamboo, perhaps in the air I was breathing. And I thought of the laughter of certain men and women, and their little fits of coughing echoed in me, and a heart-rending music rose in my chest.”
And later on about the incomprehensibility and vestiges of slavery:
“….and I think of the injustice in the world, and of all of us still suffering and dying silently of slavery after it is finished and forgotten. I try, I try every night, and I never succeed in understanding how it could have all started, how it can have continued, how it can still survive, in our tortured souls, uncertain, torn, which will be our last prison.”
Through Telumee's childhood, her beautiful friendship with her grandmother Queen Without a Name, her first love, her heartbreak, her recovery, and discovery, and healing and loving again, and loss and grief, and finding happiness again and losing it again and a final resting point, it is difficult to express the poignancy and importance of this book.
I stretched the reading period to ensure it would be the crowning for this year’s reading and what an enriching experience it has been, reemerging from this world and the echoes of the words and people and Telumee still lingers, unforgettable, I am so glad that Maryse Condé led me to this incredible writer and thus this great book which is now one of the best books I have ever read. show less
I came to know of Simone Schwarz-Bart through Maryse Condé, like Simone Schwarz-Bart also a Guadeloupean writer, whose work I deeply admire, who praised her work highly. Below is a picture of the writers together that warmed my heart:
(simone is seated on the left and maryse on the right)
The story is narrated by Telumee, an old impoverished and solitary woman who recounts her life and show more the lives of the women she’s descended from, beginning with her great-grandmother Minerva who was a freed slave. A story centering the Black women of Guadeloupe told with sweeping richness.
With luminous description, Simone Schwarz-Bart creates Fond-Zombie, La Folie and the other towns and places this story is set in. From the trees to the waves to the flowers to the mountains and of course the people themselves as well, in their hardships, conflicts, kindness, endurance, wisdom. Each word an intricate layer that went to build this fantastic story and a world of colour and marvelous. This book is a song of life.
Throughout the whole book the mark of slavery is felt, for instance at some point Telumee remarks:
“For the first time in my life I realized that slavery was not some foreign country, some distant region from which a few very old people came, like the two or three who still survived in Fond-Zombi . It had all happened here, in our hills and valleys, perhaps near this clump of bamboo, perhaps in the air I was breathing. And I thought of the laughter of certain men and women, and their little fits of coughing echoed in me, and a heart-rending music rose in my chest.”
And later on about the incomprehensibility and vestiges of slavery:
“….and I think of the injustice in the world, and of all of us still suffering and dying silently of slavery after it is finished and forgotten. I try, I try every night, and I never succeed in understanding how it could have all started, how it can have continued, how it can still survive, in our tortured souls, uncertain, torn, which will be our last prison.”
Through Telumee's childhood, her beautiful friendship with her grandmother Queen Without a Name, her first love, her heartbreak, her recovery, and discovery, and healing and loving again, and loss and grief, and finding happiness again and losing it again and a final resting point, it is difficult to express the poignancy and importance of this book.
I stretched the reading period to ensure it would be the crowning for this year’s reading and what an enriching experience it has been, reemerging from this world and the echoes of the words and people and Telumee still lingers, unforgettable, I am so glad that Maryse Condé led me to this incredible writer and thus this great book which is now one of the best books I have ever read. show less
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Magic Realism (1)
Black Authors (1)
Awards
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Statistics
- Works
- 15
- Also by
- 3
- Members
- 592
- Popularity
- #42,408
- Rating
- 4.1
- Reviews
- 12
- ISBNs
- 40
- Languages
- 6
- Favorited
- 4