Of Book Fairs, Art Centres and Literary Dialogues

The Literary Scene

By Nandini Bhautoo

In the wake of the recently organized Trou d’Eau Douce Book Fair, it is worth reflecting on the implications of sustained literary activity for the life of the nation.

Observers might argue that in this age of hyper-technology and the seemingly omnipotent role of Artificial Intelligence in our daily lives, books have lost their sway. Yet books will always remain vital as windows opening readers to experiences and awareness beyond the confines of their immediate environment. The increasing depth and sophistication of thought can only be cultivated through the long-form exercise of reading — something that short-form content such as TikTok and Instagram videos can never replace.

Moreover, as useful as AI is proving to be, it is essential to remember that the critical corrective of human perspective will always be needed to counteract the possible biases that might be systematically built into the algorithms we interact with. Upholding the practice of reading, therefore, is not an exercise in nostalgia but a matter of practical necessity.

In this light, the initiative of organising book fairs is highly laudable. The Trou d’Eau Douce Book Fair, in particular, seems to position itself as an alternative to the “Sun, Sea, and Sand” stereotype of the tropical island destination – especially since it was literally held on the beach. However, it is worth asking who the targeted beneficiaries of such an event are. Ideally, it should appeal to all citizens, regardless of geography, creed, or other divisions.

Yet, the predominance of a Francophone sensibility in the event’s structure and programming raises questions about its decolonial potential. In Le Mauricien last week, Sheila Bunwaree rightly asked why only Francophone Indian Ocean writers were invited. Few local critics may be aware that a number of Anglophone Indian Ocean writers have achieved international literary recognition.

Among them, Abdulrazak Gurnah from Zanzibar, who won the Nobel Prize in Literature. Romesh Gunesekera from Sri Lanka, a major voice in the global literary landscape, also from Sri Lanka, writers such as Daya Dissanayake and Shyam Selvadurai. Malaysia, which also borders the Indian Ocean, has produced important writers like Rani Manicka, whose The Rice Mother vividly portrays the realities of inter-island migration. Amitav Ghosh, too, gifted us The Ibis Trilogy – for which he conducted research in Mauritius, exploring local landscapes and oral histories to construct his grand diasporic narrative.

If we extend the horizon further, Arthur C. Clarke, though British, lived in Sri Lanka; and Michael Ondaatje, author of The English Patient, though Canadian by residence, is of Sri Lankan origin. Indonesia, another country that shares a coastline with the Indian Ocean, produced the remarkable Pramoedya Ananta Toer, author of The Buru Quartet.

Beyond the realm of English-language fiction, there are worlds to be discovered through the prism of Hindi, Urdu, and other languages. Among Mauritian writers, Abhimanyu Unnuth remains a towering figure in this category. If we truly wish to speak of island fiction, then works emerging from these linguistic traditions deserve recognition, despite the subversive potential of the social and political realities they engage with. By identifying what is excluded, we can better infer what is included – beyond the official rhetoric of inclusiveness.

Of course, private organisers have every right to tailor their events to specific audiences, consciously or otherwise. The pity, however, is that such a one-sided sensibility exists in a context where alternative events of similar stature are rare. This is why it is of utmost importance that the national artistic and literary scene be strengthened through a structured institution — one capable of organising and coordinating truly multicultural literary and artistic events.

At the Assises de la Culture organized by the Ministry of Arts and Cultural Heritage last September, many called for greater national recognition of the various disciplines of drama, art, and literature. Such recognition cannot occur in a piecemeal fashion. Otherwise, we risk repeating the fate of Confluences – a once-promising initiative that was discontinued following a change in political leadership. It is imperative, therefore, to establish an independent, multidisciplinary National Arts Centre, which could ensure the sustained organisation of such events beyond the contingencies of political fortune.

And if funding is the concern, logic dictates that such a centre would pay for itself and contribute far more to the economy than a sports stadium. It would create employment, offer a range of cultural experiences – from the folkloric to the intellectual – and provide much-needed entertainment spaces beyond the commercial trap of shopping centres. In the process, it would expand citizens’ perspectives and enrich national dialogue. The centre could also address pressing social issues such as bullying, feminicide, and street violence through inclusive forms like forum theatre and street theatre.

Moreover, it could provide a platform for local artists while exposing audiences – especially those unable to travel abroad – to international artistic excellence, something technology can now easily facilitate. It is in the dynamic interaction between the local and the global that creativity flourishes. Ensuring that this process reaches beyond niche circles could enhance the quality of life for all citizens while attracting the interest of cultural tourists.

Finally, to those who claim, as was heard during the Assises de la Culture, that audiences do not follow artists’ endeavours — I would argue they do, provided we know how to engage them by tailoring art to their concerns, rather than by upholding elitism as policy. More than anything else, a multidisciplinary arts centre could serve as a vital catalyst for the cultural, educational, and economic growth of the nation.

Mauritius Times ePaper Friday 10 October 2025