The Mermaid of Black Conch

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Ever watched Disney’s animated cartoon “The Little Mermaid” again and again to re-experience that incurable giddy feeling as if you were a teenager again romanticizing on her bed about her biggest crush? Well, this book is nothing like that. Both tales feature a mermaid at the centre stage but that’s all they have in common. Roffey’s book is about Aycayia, an indigenous woman cursed by jealous and threatened women in her village, centuries ago. Aycayia is caught by American tourists on a fishing trip but rescued by a Rasta fisherman, David who falls in love with her.

The novel sprouts from a genre called magical realism, which truthfully depicts the world (in this case the Caribbean in the 1970s) but introduces magical elements (like the appearance of a mermaid) viewed as “odd”, yet acceptable by the cast of characters. And just like David, Miss Rain, Reggie, and Life, the reader accepts the magical appearance of the mermaid at face value. When David rescues Aycayia from the American tourists, though puzzled at first, he overcomes his surprise and supports her as she slowly turns back to a human form.

The book is a tale of love: between David and Aycayia, and between Miss Rain and Life. However, there are many underlying themes in the story. First, there is a strong critique of the colonial legacy left in the Caribbean. The character of Arcadia Rain is the archetype of white supremacy. She comes from a line of white landowners, symbolizing the remnant of the plantocracy. Her colonial house at the top of the hill and her stature as a landlord in the village is a reminiscence of the descendants of Black Conch’s enslavement.  Roffey used the image of a native mermaid as a literary resistance to dominant narratives developed in the Western world. Until the Little Mermaid movie last year, mermaids were always depicted as white. Roffey resisted the established social order of the West and her character Aycayia comes from the indigenous Taino people, wiped out by Western explorers, abused, and enslaved. “Red People were my people/all killed from disease/and by the murderer admiral” says Aycayia. But Miss Rain is also an outcast, just as much as Aycayia, because she gave birth to a black child, Life’s son. This is the second theme that repeatedly comes up in the novel: the troubled and fragile mixed-race relationships in the village. Aycayia is half-fish, half-woman, a hybrid species and Roffey explores the issues of racism and prejudice in a subtle way through the characters. The fact that women are the outcasts (condemned and rejected for being too pretty, white, or financially powerful) is not random. The power relationship between genders is vibrantly described by Roffey.  “Is man fault women treat each other bad?” David asks at some stage. Women compete with one another. Jealousy and envy prompt them against one another and this is directly linked to the theme of patriarchy and the competition of the Alpha male (Priscilla who looks for the power of the local corrupted policeman and has a son with him). The Mermaid of Black Conch is a story about violence. The capture of the mermaid was horrific, and described as “blasphemy”. It resembled the violent killing of Moby Dick and represents masculine aggressive behavior at its height. Possession of women by men is a major concern in the story: how greed, envy, and the quest to dominate destroy communities. The American fishermen wanted Aycayia as a trophy, both repulsed by her appearance and enthralled by her beauty, a beauty they wanted for themselves and for monetary rewards. David recognizes his own wrong-doings in the past with women and gets to realize that love is not about possession.

On a brighter note, I would say that Aycayia is also the archetype of transformation. Literally, she turns back into a woman and her metamorphosis is painted by Roffey as nearly grotesque, gruesome yet fascinating. But she symbolises changes. Changes in hearts, in mentalities, in families and in communities.

Monique Roffey binds all themes together in a very rhythmic Creole patois in a patchwork of narrative forms: Aycyia’s own thoughts are read like a poem, while David’s journal entries offer the perspective of an older man who had time to analyse the events in retrospect, with more maturity. There is also the omniscient narrator who gives the reader more insight into what is happening. The writing flows easily, interspersed with vivid and colorful depictions of the luscious vegetation and wildlife. I particularly loved the way Roffey often used human attributes to depict the ocean: “The sea was the giant woman of the planet, fluid, and contrary”. I really enjoyed the Mermaid of Black Conch and the clever use of magic realism to immerse the reader in post-colonial fiction. That’s why I gave it a 4-star review.