Anderson Tepper, The New York Times
‘Throughout her four-decade literary career, the Guadeloupean writer has explored a global vision of the Black diaspora, and placed Caribbean life at the center. In the past few years, Condé has been showered with honors and accolades across the globe. The Haitian writer Edwidge Danticat sees Condé as a “giant of literature,” whose prolific work connects continents and generations. One thing is certain: Condé is finally receiving the acclaim her wide-ranging body of work deserves.’
Publisher’s Weekly
‘French novelist Condé (Waiting for the Waters to Rise) delivers an ingenious bildungsroman of a messianic figure in contemporary Martinique […] Condé does a lovely job with bringing her protagonist down to earth, covering the sacred and profane elements of Pascal’s life before his death at 33 in a tragic, unexpected manner. Readers will be transfixed.’
Lucy Popescu, Financial Times
‘In The Gospel According to the New World, her tone is often playful and she deftly intertwines biblical references with Caribbean folklore, but the narrative’s anecdotal style means certain storylines are abruptly curtailed or peter out and other characters are sketchily drawn. Ultimately, the book spreads itself too thinly to fully satisfy.’
Leighan Renaud, The Conversation
‘The novel, translated from French to English by Condé’s husband Richard Philcox, is full of wit, humour and allusion. It engages with questions of belief, philosophy and politics, and brings together a range of captivating characters from across the New World as Pascal grapples with his reputation as a new Messiah. I was unsure of what to expect, but I found Condé’s novel charming and full of heart.’
Baptiste Rossi, On Air
‘Sadly, Maryse Condé has lost her eyesight, and dictated this rich novel. She has however not lost her intelligent way of looking at life, her faculty for revisiting tales, or her gift of transcribing her impressions—culinary or erotic—to the art of storytelling, which she always enjoyed. In this sense, this book is a literary miracle.’