The Silence of the Choir by Mohamed Mbougar Sarr translated by Alison Anderson

At some point in recent history, the merits of reading literary fiction became inextricably entwined with the genre’s potential to instill empathy, particularly for characters whose lives are radically different from our own. In this context, literature has tangible (and perhaps commercial) value in no small part because of our hope that what is true on the page might be true in reality. If we encounter unknown, unfamiliar or even unlikable characters in a novel, and still find room in our hearts to care for them, then perhaps we will be more likely to do so when such figures wash up on our own shores. [New York Times Book Review by Dinaw Mengestu]

Mohamed Mbougar Sarr won the 2018 World Literature Prize for The Silence of the Choir at age twenty-eight, the youngest author to have ever done so. The book, now translated from the French by Alison Anderson and released by Europa Editions, is a literary fiction novel about immigration and community. It opens with the arrival of seventy-two African immigrants in a rural Sicilian village (the fictional Altino).

The seventy-two men were still trying to sleep, having arrived in the little town only a few hours earlier. They needed to sleep. And nothing, neither their fear nor the thin strip of light that was beginning to relieve the gloom in the warehouse that served as their shelter could deter them from that desire: to go back to sleep. By their side since the previous night, Jogoy now watched as they struggled with their obsession, but he knew their effort would prove futile because, for the time being, no true rest was possible. What most of these men really needed wasn’t sleep itself, but only the mental and psychological disposition of sleep: the idea that they could abandon themselves to sleep without fear. [p. 17]

The refugees are taken in by the Santa Marta association and remain in Altino as they wait to find out whether or not they will be granted asylum. They come from a range of African countries including Senegal, Nigeria, Ghana, and Mali. Referred to collectively by the villagers as the ‘ragazzi,’ Italian for ‘the guys,’ their presence profoundly impacts the small town of Altino.

Within minutes of reading The Silence of the Choir, I became immersed in this amazing stage Sarr has created where a symphony of voices allows us to enter the private thoughts of both the newcomers and Altino’s residents.

A harsh light dazzled him the moment he stepped outside. A meticulous barber, the sun was grazing its glinting blade against the mountaintops. A few housewives with the constitution of caryatids filled the window frames, where they were hanging out their laundry, humming a folk song or the latest romantic ballad by the now-graying sex symbol of their youth. The men, their voices ringing loudly, were on their way to La Tavola di Luca, the best known café in town, and the only one that opened early. A gentle breeze blew through the streets with the tragic grace of things that don’t last; in an hour or less, it would be vanquished until evening by the crushing heat of summer. [p. 20]

Senegal-born and Paris-based author Mohamed Mbougar Sarr uses several literary forms to tell his story including third-person perspective, monologues, historical interludes, journal entries and dialogues. Put together, these forms focus us on the fate of people like these seventy-two men, who have left their homes, families, friends, cultures, and languages, who have risked their lives to head to Europe. They have not chosen to leave their homelands for a better life, they have run for their lives from a homeland that has become a threatening force. Their fate “will be decided not by what they’ve endured, what they want or are willing to do, but by how they tell their stories and how “we” — the resident public, the privileged reader — feel about them as a result.” [New York Times Book Review]

Migrants arriving in April 2015 in Sicily, the setting for Mohamed Mbougar Sarr’s novel.
Photograph: Rex/Shutterstock

What stood out to me in reading this brilliant novel was the way in which Sarr addresses the humanity and flaws of both the refugees and the townspeople, and raises fundamental questions about respect, dignity, belonging and what it means to be welcomed. The Silence of the Choir not only chronicles the refugees’ journey of leaving their homeland and trying to become part of the Altino community but also captures the thoughts and feelings of the native Sicilians. It depicts both sides of the migrant debate, and the cast of characters is authentically realized in ways that force us to newly confront what has been popularly called a global “crisis.”

Who belongs to a community is a question as old as civilization. The twenty-first century is witnessing an alarming resurgence of racism and xenophobia around the globe, and the distance between those who belong and those who are outside is growing. In one particularly resonant scene, Carla, a native of Sicily, asks Jogoy, one of the migrants, what it means to be welcomed, to which he replies: “It means being given something more than just a roof and some bread. It’s being given something beyond hospitality….Human beings need deeper reasons to exist.” [Project Muse Book Review]

Amidst the perceived threat of the stranger to our ways of life, we argue over who gets the right to belong and seek refuge. The Silence of the Choir gives us the opportunity to hear from those affected by the modern refugee crisis and to reflect on our reaction to population shifts in our own communities. It is a dramatic and compelling story that inspires us to question our ability to find room in our hearts to care for those seeking refuge whose culture may be radically different from our own.

Get to know Mohamed Mbougar Sarr at Writer Mohamed Mbougar Sarr: My Mind is Shaped by Literature | Louisiana Channel

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