CARIBBEAN literature has been an avenue for Caribbean people to highlight their experiences and culture, channel the narratives for their real stories and generally, express themselves. Some may argue, however, that we may be losing touch with our sense of Caribbean literary consciousness.
The Pelican Book Club at the University of the West Indies (UWI) St. Augustine Campus hosted a roundtable discussion recently on Raising Literary Consciousness. This roundtable discussion, as far as I know, was the first of its kind and it sought to promote a space to initiate a conversation on the importance of local (Trinidadian) and regional literature in representing the Caribbean culture.
As you would expect from an overarching theme of ‘Regaining Consciousness,’ the conversation ventured upon what exactly defines being authentically ‘Caribbean’, and to what extent does the literature created in more recent times reflect this idea of authenticity?
Is it enough to be authentically Caribbean by just being a Caribbean citizen? And would any literature created by that person is deemed “Caribbean”? Or is it that one is required to combine Caribbean elements (whether highlighting the culture, integrating the Region’s experiences, inter alia) in the literature produced in order to be deemed “Caribbean”?
I held the belief of the latter, that authentic Caribbean literature required that you use the platform to speak on those tenets that shaped and continues to shape the Caribbean. Subsequent to that forum, however, I will concede that it was myopic on my part to think that Caribbean literature can only be defined as “Caribbean” if it combines those Caribbean elements.
Instead, what I learnt was that one’s consciousness is inherently shaped by one’s cultural experiences and social settings, but it is also influenced by external factors. These factors include globalisation and increased and ready access to information, and those things. Importantly, in more recent times, these external factors have become increasingly abundant in everyday life; the influence of other cultures and social settings have become intrinsically tied to how we experience the world around us. A practical example of this is Halloween. Halloween is not indigenous to the Caribbean, yet it has become something that many of us observe and/or celebrate. But that’s just the thing about culture, it is not static, it is constantly evolving.
And so, it is too prescriptive to think that Caribbean literature would only be considered as such, if it solely reflects the beautiful natural patrimony distinctive in each nation, or the grim history of the region’s formative years, or the colonial and post-colonial struggles of forging sovereign states and crafting new identities. Caribbean literature, I’ve learnt, amalgamates any means the creator wishes to express, representing actual experiences or simply conjured from his/her imagination.
Simultaneously, literature and creative avenues, generally, have been able to propel our expression as Caribbean people, and as individual nations. For me, the standout literature indigenous to the Caribbean, to a fairly large extent, has been those pieces that were microcosmic of our societal experiences and culture. These pieces were created by some of our beloved literary giants: Derek Walcott, who received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1992 and was an avid writer of the Caribbean cultural experience, and right home in Guyana, we have had Martin Carter, who was skilful in crafting poems of resistance, protest, and revolution.
At the forum, it was made known that each year, fewer persons are registering for degrees with the Faculty of Humanities and Education, where they would be able to pursue avenues in writing. And perhaps, this signals that there is a lower inclination towards literature, which may also be indicative of that loss of literary consciousness. I have not seen empirical evidence in this regard, but if this is indeed the case, I would be saddened to know that we may be losing touch with an avenue that has allowed us to unapologetically be ourselves and create our narratives. I think if there is one thing history has taught all of us is that telling our own stories is imperative, lest we fall prey to misconstrued tales (Yes, I am speaking about those highly misconstrued European accounts of the Caribbean).
Our literature is a powerful avenue of highlighting who we are, but it is also a stark reminder to ourselves of those unique components of our culture, and we should be proud of that. And while it may appear as though our literary consciousness may be dwindling, there are other avenues that we have to begin looking into to ensure that we are represented on all fronts.
