Maryse Condé, Prolific ‘Grande Dame’ of Caribbean Literature, Dies at Age 90

French writer Maryse Condé reacts after being awarded the New Academy's Literature Prize at a ceremony in Stockholm, Sweden, on Dec. 9, 2018. (Christine Olsson/ TT News Agency via AP, File)
French writer Maryse Condé reacts after being awarded the New Academy's Literature Prize at a ceremony in Stockholm, Sweden, on Dec. 9, 2018. (Christine Olsson/ TT News Agency via AP, File)
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Maryse Condé, Prolific ‘Grande Dame’ of Caribbean Literature, Dies at Age 90

French writer Maryse Condé reacts after being awarded the New Academy's Literature Prize at a ceremony in Stockholm, Sweden, on Dec. 9, 2018. (Christine Olsson/ TT News Agency via AP, File)
French writer Maryse Condé reacts after being awarded the New Academy's Literature Prize at a ceremony in Stockholm, Sweden, on Dec. 9, 2018. (Christine Olsson/ TT News Agency via AP, File)

Maryse Condé, an acclaimed French-language novelist from Guadeloupe who in novels, stories, plays and memoirs imagined and redefined the personal and historical past from 17th century New England to contemporary Europe, has died at age 90.

Condé, winner in 2018 of an "alternate" Nobel Prize, died Monday night at a hospital in Apt, outside Marseille. Her longtime editor, Laurant Laffont, told The Associated Press that she had suffered from a neurological illness that impaired her vision to the point of having to dictate her final novel. But she still enjoyed a 90th birthday celebration, in February, when she was joined by family and friends.

"She was smiling, she was joyous," said Laffont, who otherwise remembered her as a woman of uncommon intensity and generosity. "It was a wonderful farewell, a truly great sendoff."

Condé, who lived in Luberon, France in recent years, was often called the "grande dame" of Caribbean literature. Influenced by Frantz Fanon, Aimé Césaire and other critics of colonialism, she was a world traveler who probed the conflicts between and within Western culture, African culture and Caribbean culture, and the tensions between the desire for liberation and what the author would call "the trap of terrorism and simplistic radicalization."

With her husband, Richard Philcox, often serving as her English-language translator, Condé wrote dozens of books, ranging from historical explorations such as "Segu," her best known novel, to the autobiographical stories in "Tales from the Heart" to fresh takes on Western literature. She reworked "Wuthering Heights" into "Windward Heights," and paired a West Indian slave with Hester Prynne of "The Scarlet Letter" in "I, Tituba, Black Witch of Salem."

"A historian is somebody who studies the facts, the historical facts — somebody who is tied to what actually happens," she explained in an interview included in the back section of "I, Tituba," published in 1992. "I am just a dreamer — my dreams rest upon a historical basis. Being a Black person, having a certain past, having a certain history behind me, I want to explore that realm and of course do it with imagination and my intuition. But I am not involved in any kind of scholarly research."

The mother of four children (with first husband Mamadou Condé), she was nearly 40 when she published her first novel and almost 50 when "Segu" made her an international name. "Segu," released in French in 1984 and in the United States three years later, was set in an 18th century African kingdom and followed the fates of a royal advisor and his family as their community is upended by the expansion of the slave trading industry.

She continued the story in "The Children of Segu," but rejected additional volumes, explaining to one interviewer that her spirit "had journeyed to another world." Over the following decades, her fictional settings included Salem, Massachusetts ("I, Tituba"), Jamaica ("Nanna-Ya") and Paris and Guadeloupe for "The Wondrous and Tragic Life of Ivan and Ilana."

Condé received numerous awards over the second half of her life, among them the Commandeur de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres from the French government, the US-based Hurston & Wright Legacy Award and the New Academy Prize for literature, an informal honor presented in 2018 in place of the Nobel, which was sidelined for the year amid allegation of sexual harassment by prize committee members.

"She describes the ravages of colonialism and the post-colonial chaos in a language which is both precise and overwhelming," New Academy judge Ann Pålsson said at the time. "The dead live in her stories closely to the living in a ... world where gender, race and class are constantly turned over in new constellations."

In the mid-1990s, Condé joined the faculty at Columbia University as a professor of French and Francophone literature. She also taught at the University of Virginia and UCLA among other schools before retiring in 2005, around the same time French President Jacques Chirac named her head of the French Committee for the Memory of Slavery.

Conde was married twice, most recently to Philcox, a British academic whom she met in the late 1960s in Senegal.

Born Maryse Boucolon at Pointe-à-Pitre, Guadeloupe, she was one of six children (two others died) raised in a relatively prosperous and educated family, where French was favored over Creole and the poetry of Victor Hugo over local folklore. Condé was a writer from early on, creating a one-act play at age 10 about her mother, reporting for local newspapers in high school and publishing book reviews for a student magazine in college, the Sorbonne Nouvelle in Paris.

She was admittedly isolated as a young woman, and would remember how her family "prided itself on being picture perfect in public." But in her teens, she became politicized after reading "Black Shack Alley," a 1950 novel by Joseph Zobel about the coming of age of a boy contending with white oppression in colonial Martinique, a way of life Condé knew little about.

"Today, I am convinced that what I later called somewhat pretentiously ‘my political commitment’ was born at that very moment," she wrote in "Tales from the Heart," published in 1998. "Reading Joseph Zobel, more than any theoretical discourse, opened my eyes. I understood that the milieu I belonged to had absolutely nothing to offer and I began to loathe it. I had become bleached and whitewashed, a poor imitation of the little French children I hung out with."

Like many young idealists in the 1960s, she moved to Africa, spending much of the following decade in Ghana, Guinea and other newly independent countries. She would discover, like many of her contemporaries, that African leaders could be as oppressive as colonial leaders, experiences she drew upon for her debut novel, "Heremakhonon," published in 1976.

"When I was in Guinea, there was a department store with that name (Heremakhonon)," Condé told Howard University professor Francoise Pfaff during an interview that appears in Pfaff’s "Conversations with Maryse Condé," published in 1996. "In theory, this store offered everything people needed, but it had nothing except Chinese toys of poor quality. For me it was a symbol of independence."

Whether in Guadeloupe, Paris, Africa or the US, she often felt apart from the general population; the author liked to say that she didn’t write in French or Creole, but in her own language, "Maryse Condé." She drew as much from oral history as from written history, navigating between the lost and dying worlds that oral tradition represented and the new world of mass media and what she called the "totally modern lifestyle."



Syria's Aleppo Set for Revival Despite War Scars to its Heritage

During the four years of fighting before Assad's forces recaptured Aleppo following a devastating siege, the city was virtually emptied - AFP
During the four years of fighting before Assad's forces recaptured Aleppo following a devastating siege, the city was virtually emptied - AFP
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Syria's Aleppo Set for Revival Despite War Scars to its Heritage

During the four years of fighting before Assad's forces recaptured Aleppo following a devastating siege, the city was virtually emptied - AFP
During the four years of fighting before Assad's forces recaptured Aleppo following a devastating siege, the city was virtually emptied - AFP

The historic Baron Hotel in Syria's Aleppo is dilapidated and damaged by years of war but still standing and ready for a revival, much like the city itself.

Aleppo's old city, designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, was ravaged by the conflict that erupted after a government crackdown on protests in 2011.

Between 2012 and 2016, it became a battleground between Syria's military and opposition factions.

The army of now-ousted president Bashar al-Assad shelled opposition fighters from the ground and struck them from the air, supported by Russian firepower.
Opposition groups, meanwhile, used mortars and artisanal rockets, as the fighting turned ancient streets into sniper alleys.

During the four years of fighting before the government recaptured Aleppo following a devastating siege, the city was virtually emptied.

Now, after Assad's fall following a lightning opposition offensive led by Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, residents are looking forward to reconstruction.

"Unfortunately, more than 60 percent of the edifices in the old city, monuments of the old city of Aleppo, were devastated to ground zero," said Georges Edleby, a tour guide in the city for 35 years.

"Hopefully there will be a day that we see them again restored."

The ancient souks where Aleppo's famed olive oil soap is piled up in stacks for sale has been reduced in many places to little more than rubble.

- 'Hope for a better life' -

Aleppo's medieval citadel, however, remains relatively intact.

Opposition fighters, one with a rose slipped into the barrel of his gun, stood guard outside the ancient ramparts, which Syria's army turned into a stronghold during the war.

Most of the damage in the citadel was caused by a 2023 earthquake, locals say.

Below in the old city, a few alleys of the souk -- once the largest in the world with 4,000 stalls -- have reopened after being restored, including with Saudi financial aid.

Jamal Habbal, 66, has spent all his life under the stone vaults of the old city and reopened his macrame and rope shop there a year ago.

"We have so many memories here. It was a big market that was vibrant and lively. Girls used to come to buy items for their trousseaus. They could find everything," he told AFP.

"And then suddenly, the crisis," he said, reluctant to even say the word war.

"We had to leave. I returned in 2018, but it's still difficult," he added, speaking in a dark and largely deserted alley.

Fadel Fadel has also reopened his shop offering souvenirs, soap and mother-of-pearl inlaid boxes.

"It was completely destroyed here," said the 51-year-old.

He is hoping to see Aleppo returned to its status as a "center of commerce, industry and tourism."

"We hope for a better life."

- Museum ready to reopen -

Outside, dusty streets wind between ruins that await reconstruction and revival.

The Baron Hotel once welcomed Agatha Christie, Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser and France's Charles de Gaulle.

Visitors flocked to see the somewhat faded glory of its rooms, as well as its terrace and the unpaid bar bill belonging to one Lawrence of Arabia.

But now, several broken windows adorned with shutters hanging from a single hinge offer a view into a deserted building covered in dust.

The hotel's future is uncertain.

Its last owner, Armen Mazloumian, has passed away. He told AFP back in 2014 that he felt the hotel's glory days were behind it and it would "never be what it once was again".

Nearby, however, the National Museum of Aleppo is readying to reopen. Its courtyard was hit in shelling but its building and collection were spared.

Director Ahmed Othman said the museum "took lessons from the experience of our neighbours," including institutions in Iraq and Lebanon.

"We took the necessary measures to protect our collections," he said.

"The statues that were too heavy to move were encased in concrete and the smaller pieces were moved to safe places."

Treasures that trace nine millennia of history and the birth of writing in nearby Mesopotamia have been preserved unharmed as a result.

"We did many things in order to protect the museum as a whole," said Othman