Indeed, in Ahmed Yerima’s dramatic compositions to date, there is an obvious dominance of the tragic mode, considering plays such as The Trials of Oba Ovonramwen, Attahiru, Tafida, Limam and Ade Ire, Otaelo, Ameh Oboni the Great and Hard Ground.

Though conscious efforts are made to mediate the intensity of gloom with grains of humour in the above plays, what seems to be his decisive contribution to the genre of comedy so far is The Lottery Ticket. Discourse on Tragedy explains this preference, locating the attraction in tragedy’s ability to truly depict the essence and existence of Man in a predictably uncertain universe.

To him, tragedy seems to be the most realistic of all literary modes in depicting the dynamism, complexity and ephemerality of human life, as it presents the story of the protagonist locked in fierce struggle against forces that are bent on bringing him firmly under their control, however feeble or aggressive his resistance against such forces. Thus, the tragic hero succumbs under the immense weight of the supernatural (Oedipus and Pentheus), the human as represented in the villain (Othello and Otaelo) and also under pressures from the society (Elesin Oba and Ovonramwen).

Tragedy therefore, exemplifies the timeless aphorism: “No condition is permanent” or how else can we sum up the narrative of Man’s life and in the art of mimesis itself? As the audience watch the tall tower of achievements of the protagonist crashing down like a bridge of straw, their souls are touched in empathy. They are overawed by his suffering; they hiss and cry in sorrow for they see a part of themselves as men, women or children in the hero. But shortly after, they regain their emotional balance, having seen reaffirmed, the social mores which the hero has violated and on account of which he is inevitably suffering in the first instance. Like the Greek tragos, the protagonist becomes the scapegoat from whom the rest of humanity (audience) should learn a lesson in order to live a happier life.

Like all literary forms, tragedy seeks to answer some basic questions about human existence. Increasingly, it seems to be the most apt (apart from “absurdism”) summation of Africa’s postcolonial condition especially in Nigeria. “The plays of the Romans came too close to real life” (17), says Yerima. But in the case of colonial and post-independence Africa, the real life often recurs too closely to drama, especially of the tragic temper. Take the instance of election, an ordinarily harmless exercise in the process of leadership recruitment in a modern democratic setting. In Nigeria, it has become a ritual of chaos where violence is the arch-priest, attended by killing, maiming and destruction as if the nation is at war with its citizens.

As a dramatist who is conscious of the interplay of arts and politics, Yerima finds tragedy as a useful tool for social criticism. According to the author, Discourse on Tragedy was inspired in the course of his classroom responsibilities as a postgraduate teacher of dramatic literature at the University of Lagos, Nigeria. Defining a protean concept like tragedy presents a daunting challenge in scholarly contexts as there are often as many definitions as there are people willing to think through the subject. The book presents the cogitation of a conscientious teacher, creator and an avid consumer of literature on the art of tragedy.

But over the years, as Yerima rightly observes, the protagonist has moved from a monolithic, lonely being who bestride the fictive universe to the realm of the collective. Tragedy in the hands of 20th century modernists draws its heroes not only from the upper stratum of the society but also from among the social rejects; the poor and have nots. In this regard, the creative works and theoretical postulations of Bertolt Brecht, Arthur Miller, Samuel Becket, Wole Soyinka, Ola Rotimi, Femi Osofisan, Olu Obafemi, Zulu Sofola and so on illustrate the various strands of re-visioning of classical concept of tragedy. Yerima notes that “there are no rules for writing tragedy anymore” (27) and this makes him feel uneasy. But from this near anarchic reality, he tries to create a sort of order by documenting the defining principles and codes of tragedy which the critic, the teacher and the playwright must properly grasp.

Though Yerima’s specific focus is African drama, the discourse is approached in a way that offers understanding of products of other cultures. He provides the elements that connect African tragedy with the Western concept, while showing the distinguishing traits of the former. These include the origin of tragedy in ritual, myth, legend and history. Other elements are magic, music, poetry, dance, symbols, and a kind of social context or realism with which the audience can identify. The discourse moves from the specific to the broad and back to the peculiarly African.

Echoing J. P. Clark’s theory on the origin of Nigerian drama in his essay “Aspects of Nigerian Drama”, Yerima contends that African tragedy is determined by cultural dictates. What the reader harvests at the end of Discourse on Tragedy is not only a greater knowledge of the aesthetics and politics of tragedy but also practical insights into its constituents.

Apart from drawing illustrations from his own plays, he discusses plays and playwrights alongside theories and theorists that have wielded considerable influence on the notion of tragedy in Africa and Europe, from Aristotle to Shakespeare, from Nietzsche to Soyinka and Brecht. One strength of this book is the expansion of textual references beyond the commonly cited African dramatists. The voices of canonical writers are heard along with those of yet-to-be canonised dramatists like Emmy Idegu, Hope Eghagha, Lekan Balogun, Otun Rasheed, Irene Salami and others.

It is unfortunate however, that the analyses are restricted to plays from West Africa (mostly Nigeria) in spite of the author’s stated concern with ‘African’ drama. Colonial struggle and its tragic implications as explored in works of East African writers like Ngugi wa Thiongo’s The Trial of Dedan Kimathi and I will Marry When I Want deserve some attention in a discourse of this type.

What with the instances of collectivised heroism as well as the processes of communal theatrical creation and consumption evident in the Kenyan experience? Besides, apartheid South Africa offers intriguing paradigms of tragedy with its protest theatre tradition (Cockroach theatre or Guerrilla theatre). The apartheid experience is to say thee least, inherently tragic.

Anti-apartheid plays deserve some consideration in any attempt to carefully capture the complex manifestations of the tragic spirit in African drama. But in place of a lonely figure acting out the protagonist, heroism and villainy are collectively shared responsibilities. Even though there is a curious attempt to provoke laughter at the expense of black Africans in “Two-handers” like Athol Fugard’s The Island, Boesman and Lena and Sizwe Bansi is Dead, just as it obtains in Barney Simon et al’s Woza Albert!, laughter is easily drowned in the tears of displacement suffered by a majority population.

In his engagement of theories of tragedy, Yerima considers Aristotle as being subjective while he is more at home with Shakespeare’s modification of classical thoughts as demanded by the larger renaissance spirit of the Elizabethan age. However, his reservations notwithstanding, one still finds Aristotle looming large, not only in his dramatic creations but also in the structuring of his polemics in this book.

His analyses of indices of tragedy as well as his re-reading of Nigeria’s colonial history as evident in Attahiru, The Trials of Oba Ovonramwen and Ameh Oboni the Great illustrate this point. Interestingly, the cover of the book underscores the symbolic communicative codes of tragedy.

It bears two masks falling off a gloomy face that looks like that of the protagonist or the dramatist. While one mask is dripping white tears, which symbolise the ambivalence of peace or equilibrium that is attained after the suffering of the protagonist, the other mask has the eyes closed in grave and loaded silence.

This registers deep seated frustration. The visible curves of the protagonist’s or dramatist’s left ear come out more like a big question mark, showing the depth of uncertainty that rules a tragedy right from the beginning. It also calls attention to the use of suspense; a vital element of composition through which the playwright depicts the shadowy fate of the hero and the community as the plot unravels.

In spite of its far-reaching scope of analyses, the book is in no way, “end of discussion” neither has it attempted to offer “the final word” on tragedy. As the author rightly remarks, “we are not the first to search for the meaning of tragedy, and we surely won’t be the last” (22). Rather than exhausting all possibilities, the author has raised critical questions and the answers that he provides often naturally beget other questions.

It is one’s sincere hope that as he sets scholars, critics and dramatists ruminating on the fundamentals of tragedy in this book, he will return to the writing desk. Our understanding of tragedy is not complete unless we understand its flip side. There is therefore a compelling need to address the twin genre of tragedy which is comedy.

•Dr Gbemisola ‘Remi Adeoti lectures in the English Department of Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile Ife.

Discourse on Tragedy, by Ahmed Yerima, Gurara Publishing, Minna, 2009, pp 108