A rich oral tradition
The landscapes known to the Neanderthals were certainly very different from those that make up present-day Kazakhstan, but that's all to say that the country - crossed by passable roads that were to become the Silk Road - has been inhabited since the dawn of time. The savannah gave way to more austere conditions, less conducive to putting down roots, yet - even if the climate eventually stabilized in a milder, continental version - the domestication of the horse (as early as 3700 BC) helped to maintain the nomadic lifestyle still emblematic of this steppe region. We could mention the various civilizations that succeeded one another - Botai, Srubna, Afanasievo, Andronovo... - but these remain mysterious to us in the absence of writing. Thus, it was with the Scythians and Huns, from 500 BC to 500 AD, that modern history began, with its many twists and turns and its intermingling of populations. It was soon to be marked by the union of the Turkic tribes and the introduction of Islam in the 9th century, but above all by the development of the Orkhon Alphabet, the remains of which are still visible and tell the story of the war between the Turks and the Chinese. It was also at this time that the oral tradition entered the history books, a long transmission crowned - at the dawn of the third millennium! - by its inclusion on UNESCO's intangible heritage list.
This heritage - whose influence extends far beyond the borders of Kazakhstan - includes recurring, symbolic characters. Thus, in the twelve stories that make up The Book of Dede Korkut, dear to the Oghuz, the hero is a sage who promulgates values and precepts, while with Nasr Eddin Hodja, who borrows many identities and whose truthful existence is not attested, it's fantasy that prevails. Aldar Kose, for his part, is truly the most emblematic character in Kazakh folklore, although he is also found in other neighboring cultures. His name, meaning "trickster" or "impostor", hints at the antics of this anti-hero - in some ways akin to Robin Hood - who is still very popular today. But at the heart of this corpus of tales and legends, we must focus above all on those who propagate them and bring them to life: the jyrchy and theakyn. Unlike the jyrchy, who draws on the repertoire without particularly expanding it, the akyn masters the art of improvisation, and enjoys taking on his peers in oratorical jousts known as aïtys, to which music drawn from the dombra is inseparably linked. Despite the censorship imposed at certain times, this practice has defied the centuries and tournaments continue to be organized today. This shows its importance - the names of some famous akyns still resonate like those of the most prestigious writers in the Pantheon - and its remarkable capacity for adaptation: after having served to promulgate moral or philosophical teachings, it is thus quite logical that overtly political, and even gradually patriotic, themes should permeate these declamations over the centuries and the events to come.
The transition to writing
Celebrating the fleeting beauty of the moment, the works of oral tradition - created or recited - were not particularly intended to be fixed in writing, and very few were. Indirectly, this was an undeniable asset, ensuring the survival of local culture when the Mongols arrived in the 13th century. This occupation went through several phases, culminating in the creation of the Kazakh Khanate in 1465. The latter, in the 19th century, did not survive either the dissensions with its rivals or the arrival of the Russians. It was at this time that literature began to be written, which might seem paradoxical. Yet this development was the fruit of two combined movements: the first was openness to outside currents and influences, the second emphasizing the importance of local heritage, a desire embodied in particular by Tchokan Valikhanov (1835-1865), the "father of Kazakh ethnography". Ybyrai Altynsarin (1841-1889), for his part, found himself at the crossroads of these two forces, and has remained as famous for his Kazakh Grammar - the first of its kind - as for his contribution to the adoption of the Cyrillic alphabet. Finally, Abaï Kounanbaïouly (1845-1904) was the third man of this transition period, into which he eagerly jumped. Perfectly bilingual, he translated numerous works from Russian into Kazakh, including some classics of Western literature. His appetite for other cultures should be seen in the context - again, without contradiction - of his readily nationalistic, sometimes moralistic poetry, a source of inspiration for the Alash Orda, a movement that demanded autonomy during the October Revolution and aligned itself with the White Army.
In the years following 1917 and the Bolshevik victory, the already unclear situation became delicate. Perhaps one of the most notable examples of this complexity was the success enjoyed by Jamboul Jabayev, an Akyn born in 1846, who until then had been completely unknown, but whose works praising Stalin were widely reported throughout the USSR, to the extent that in 1941, four years before his death, he was even awarded the prize bearing the dictator's name. Later, a controversy erupted, claiming that he was not the author of his poems, that they had been composed in Moscow to support Soviet propaganda... The fact remains that some "patriotic" texts were written in Kazakhstan, notably within the Kazakh Association of Proletarian Writers founded in 1926. At the same time, many authors - especially those affiliated with the Alash Orda - suffered reprisals, and some even lost their lives at the terrible end of the 1930s. The memory of the poet and pro-independence intellectual Akhmet Baïtoursinoff, shot in 1937 at the age of 64, who published, in addition to political articles, the collection Qyryq Mysal(Forty Proverbs), should be revived. The fate of Mirjaqip Dulatuli (1885-1935) was hardly more enviable, as he did not survive the Solovki labor camp to which he had been sent on grounds of "nationalism", even though he was the author of the first Kazakh novel, Baqytsyz Jamal (1910), in which he evoked the condition of women, victims of the weight of tradition and patriarchy. The year 1938 was no less trying, witnessing the execution of Magjan Joumabayev, Saken Seïfoulline and Bejimbet Mailin, two outstanding poets and a playwright who helped reform the language and give birth to modern Kazakh literature.
Until Independence
In the mid-twentieth century, despite the exactions that left so many blank pages, Kazakh literature seems to be enjoying a second wind, thanks in particular to Mukhtar Aezezov. Born into a nomadic family in 1897, he studied philology in Russia and then Uzbekistan. With his diploma in hand, he set about writing a novel based on Abaï Kounanbaïouly, which he titled Abaï. The work was translated into French for Gallimard's Littératures soviétiques collection, and published in 1958, some ten years after the original, with a preface by Louis Aragon. This epic was to be followed by another: while the first volume focused mainly on the poet's life, the second painted a broader portrait of Kazakh society in the 19th century. Kounanbaïouly went on to publish other titles and plays, and although they didn't have the same international impact, it's worth noting that some of them were adapted for the cinema. Last but not least, he was a member of the Academy of Sciences, president of the Writers' Union and recipient of both the Lenin and Stalin Prizes. The new century began in 1915 with the birth of Ilyas Yesenberlin in Atbasar. In his thirties, he wrote poems, which he published in collections, before turning to the stage with Lutte dans les montagnes, staged at the Théâtre républicain for young audiences. However, the novel remained his preferred genre, in which he was prolific, indulging in realism as well as more historical themes, particularly with his Nomades trilogy recounting the highly complex power struggles that shook the vast steppes from the 15th century onwards. Three other works, collected under the title La Horde d'Or (The Golden Horde), ensured his posterity, Yesenberlin having even been translated into Japanese... but not, a priori, into French.
We should also mention Muzafar Alimbaev (1923-2017) for his work as a literary critic and his involvement in children's literature, takhaui Akhtanov (1923-1994), crowned "People's Writer of Kazakhstan", and Kuandyk Tulegenovich Shangytbayev (1925-2001), "National Writer of Kazakhstan" - both of whom are represented by a monument erected in Aktioubé in 2013, and not forgetting Abdijamil Nourpeïssov (1924-2022). The son of Aral Sea fishermen and a staff officer during the Second World War, he published an autobiographical (and patriotic!) novel, Kurland (1950), republished eight years later under the title Le jour tant attendu. After resuming his studies at the Gorky Literary Institute in Moscow, he embarked on a larger project, the Blood and Sweat trilogy, in which he explored the history of his native region. A few years later, he turned his attention to the history of Kazakhstan with three new opuses: Le Crépuscule (1961), La Saison des épreuves (1964) and L'Effondrement (1970). The lucky ones will find some of his translated titles in bookshops. Last but not least, the poetry of Tumanbai Muldagaliev (1935-2011), Kadyr Myrzaliev (1935-2011) and Oljas Suleimenov will not be left out, the latter also making a name for himself as a militant environmentalist and politically committed, two subjects that will not be foreign to either Bakhytjan Kanapianov, a poet born in 1951, or the writer Aron Atabek (1953-2021).
