Emmelie Prophète is a Haitian writer who has published six novels, one of which (Le Testament des solitudes, translated as Blue by Tina Kover) has already appeared in English. Whereas Blue was her first novel, Cécé (originally Les Villages de Dieu) is her sixth, originally published in 2020 and now translated by Aidan Rooney. The novel has been retitled to turn the focus directly onto its protagonist, Cécé La Flamme, a young woman who loses the grandmother who raised her and must somehow survive alone, though it is also very much about the place where she lives, the Cité of Divine Power, which makes that survival all the more difficult to navigate:
“There was always a death to mourn in the Cité. Gang members would kill each other, or one would kill his own leader to take his place, plus there were frequent shoot-outs with the police that always left dead bodies.”
Not only must Cécé look after herself, but also her uncle Freddy, who, despite escaping to America, returns “a very thin man in crumpled clothes.” As the novel opens it seems Cécé has resorted to prostitution like her mother, who died of aids
“He would get dressed right away and hold out one thousand gourdes, double my price, wrapped in a piece of paper. I appreciated the thoughtfulness.”
In fact, it is slightly more complex, as the man, Carlos, would rather have a relationship with Cécé but she insists he pays her. Later he offers her a chance of escape which she does not take; her determination to survive alone is hard-wired into her, and it is noticeable that, after Grand Ma’s death, she lacks any close relationships. This, however, is a modern novel and there are other avenues open to Cécé:
“Since she left Uncle Fredo and me, I’ve invented a life on Facebook. I’m “Cécé La Flamme.” The name randomly popped not my head… Fire. Fire. For purification, a fresh start.”
She soon realises that when it comes to growing her audience:
“Dead bodies did very well. Better than the living. The more sordid or violent the better… Nothing got more attention than a good corpse that was nice and warm or already rotting. The smell went uncaptured.”
It is her online life that brings her to the attention of the latest gang leader, who complains that she posts more about a rival gang in a nearby town:
“You’re going to talk about me. You’re no longer allowed to post about that moron from Bethlehem, except to put him down.”
This encounter introduces a character who will demonstrate that Cécé’s version of survival, though precarious, is not the most dangerous. Patience is the gang leader, Joel’s, girlfriend, “just like the president’s wife.” But when Joel is replaced by a new leader (Cannibal 2.0) it is not only her position that is lost but all her glamour that had previously seemed intrinsic:
“Until then I had no idea how quickly grace can vanish from a person, or that you can voluntarily give up on seduction, turn off all the lights and shut all the windows on your life, waiting for an unlikely tomorrow.”
Cécé on the other hand finds opportunities outside the town when she sells the rights to her pictures of the decapitated Joel. This, in turn, leads to a proposition she should work as an influencer (a word she has not heard before):
“I promote various consumer products and I’m looking for people like you, des gens comme toi, with a large following on social media to help me.”
This, too, is a form of prostitution as Cécé pretends to use products as instructed, but the novel suggests that the poor must sell themselves one way or another. Cécé is a modern take on an old story, survival by any means amid poverty and violence. Its portrait of both its central character and its setting is vivid and convincing. If anything, Cécé’s story ends too soon, though the novel’s conclusion suggests acceptance of the meaninglessness of her existence – but then, for her, existence itself is a victory.
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