PATRICK CHAMOISEAU - TEXACO

Image: The Quarter of the Wretched

I entered the world of Patrick Chamoiseau with Slave Old Man, a slim, elemental narrative of a slave escape. I suspected Texaco would have more sprawl to it. And though sprawl is not generally what I prefer in novels, I bought the ticket/took the ride. While I dug the prose of Texaco, I only connected with parts of the plot. This is a pretty facile criticism, I realize, since plot does not seem to be a particular aim of this novel; plot is shunted aside in favor of developing setting (Texaco, a shantytown grown permanent) and the narrator/protagonist, a resident of Texaco. She’s narrating her tale to an author figure, and it grated me to see their relationship culminate in a self-congratulatory exchange on the immortality of literature and writing; she’s not a writer, but as a storyteller she and the author have much in common, she’s the bedrock of literature, she is the source of story, the world can’t spin without her, etc. It’s a move I’ve seen too many times in meta-narratives; very rarely does it feel earned on the part of the author, and here it was a letdown, since so many aspects of the novel — the prose especially — I found original and vibrant.