Mohamed Mbougar Sarr
.png)
Mohamed Mbougar Sarr (born 20 June 1990) Senegalese novelist and short story writer. He was born in Dakar, Senegal, and grew up in Diourbel. He studied at the Prytanée Militaire de Saint-Louis before moving to France, where he studied literature and philosophy at the School for Advanced Studies in the Social Sciences (EHESS). Sarr is the author of four novels as well as a number of award-winning short stories. He won the 2021 Prix Goncourt for his novel The Most Secret Memory of Men, becoming the first Sub-Saharan African to do so.
Quotes
[edit]- It’s impossible to say exactly or to tell you when it started. But one thing is certain: a writer is very often a product of the books they’ve read, the time they spent among words and the rhythm of sentences. And I suppose that one day, whether it’s because of humility or ambition, we ask ourselves: why not me? Why am I not a writer? The rest is a question of talent, courage, patience, luck and the ability to know how to gracefully accept defeat. That’s what happened for me; my ‘why not me?’ happened when I was 22 years old. But I think this question was inside of me from birth, and I just needed to mature enough for it to make itself known.
- I am one of the lucky ones who sent a manuscript to a number of publishing houses, with no support from within the industry, and, one day, from among the thousands of rejections, came a yes. Although to be honest, Présence Africaine, the publishing house that published my first novel, called me on the phone. I remember crying with joy in the middle of the classroom where I was deciphering an obscure text by Friedrich Schiller. I received the letter a few days later. I kept it, but I also held onto the rejection letters. Before that, I was a student. I had just arrived in Paris and I somewhat resembled a character in a John Fante novel, sending short stories to literary competitions and journals as a way of earning some money and financing my studies, and also to confront the idea of being a writer. One of these short stories, La cale, won a prize and a few days later (I don’t know if there is a link between the two), Présence Africaine called me. This publishing house was a key player in the fight for space in Francophone literature for Black culture and colonised countries. Black identity was supported by the publishing house and the journal that carries the same name. It’s a resounding honour to be published by them, a dream that I had thought out of reach, especially at such a young age when I was all but unknown.
- It’s impossible to anticipate a book’s success. All that I wanted was to continue writing and, with each book, to immerse myself more in literary research. I would be a hypocrite to say that being recognised in literary spaces is unimportant, but that came much further down on my list of ambitions. Being successful depends on so many external factors that it is pointless to pin all of one’s dreams on it, as an author.
- Yes, after almost three years of keeping busy promoting my latest book, I am once again back to writing a new book. An image is there, and it’s a solid one. We’ll see where it takes me. But I feel the necessary enthusiasm and doubt to get going. However, I’m not sure I’ll finish it any time soon, unless the spirit of Balzac is reincarnated in me one night, and I’m able to write a book in just a few weeks.
- My first relationship with literature was an auditory one. But I think that’s the case in all cultures: you start by listening. The pleasure of storytelling is first and foremost the pleasure of listening to stories, and the question of writing doesn’t come into play until much later, when we start to know how to read. But there’s always a rather wonderful age between three and six or seven, when our only relationship to stories is through the way they’re told to us. And for me, it’s all about tales, lots and lots of tales, and the belief that those tales were real things that truly happened.
- Some advice as old as time. Read. A lot.
