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From expansion to decline

According to the Persian historian Rashid al-Din, who was born in the middle of the 13th century, Mongolian written literature dates back at least to the 12th century: in his encyclopaedic universal history (Jami al-tawarikh), he refers to a work that has unfortunately disappeared, theAltan Devter. However, there is no doubt that oral tradition has kept track of a much older epic that stretches from Tibet to Mongolia. This story, of several million verses - which earns it the title of longest work in the world and the merit of being listed by UNESCO since 2009 as Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity - is still told today, on special occasions and sometimes with music, as is the case in Mongolia where the singers are accompanied by violinists. This story focuses on the destiny of a Central Asian king, Gesar (Kesar in Tibetan, Geser in Mongolian), who, although possessing supernatural powers, remains no less human. The trials he faces and the values he carries - courage to be himself and respect for others - will lead him to reach Buddhahood, the story being tinged with a religious dimension in some of its versions. In view of its scope, it is difficult to understand this legendary cycle as a whole, although it should be pointed out that some people link it to a character who really existed in the eleventh century in the principality of Ling, in Kham, Tibet, and that this supreme text has sometimes been used for political purposes. Douglas J. Penick's adaptation - translated from the American by Points under the title Gesar de Ling: l'épopée du guerrier de Shambala

- allows us to get an idea of it in French.

The codex which is considered as the first book of the country is entitled in our language The Secret History of the Mongols (Mongolyiin Nuuts Tovtchoo), it portrays the life of a character with a prestige just as mythical, although perfectly ambivalent because he is considered by some as a military genius who knew how to unite nomadic tribes in order to found the greatest empire of all times, by others as a bloodthirsty madman: Genghis Khan. This work dated from the 13th century remained anonymous. It was originally written in the oldest Mongolian alphabet, Uyghur - one of the many adaptations of the Arabic alphabet used to write other languages - but survived in its Chinese translations, and it was not until the 19th century that it became known in the West. Like all founding texts, this one does not hesitate to make itself legendary without claiming to be perfectly factual; although imperfectly historical, it is nonetheless invaluable. It is in this line - between folklore, definition of a national identity and memory of the past - that several later works will be inscribed, including theAtltan tovch, a historical chronicle of the 17th century, and theErdeni-yin tobči

(17th century), a national chronicle composed notably of legislative texts of the 17th century. In addition, as early as the 13th century, books from nearby India, Tibet and China were translated, a phenomenon that was to accelerate, certainly encouraged by the conversion to Buddhism of the sovereign Altan Khan (1502-1582) in 1578. Sacred, poetic, scientific or philosophical texts of foreign origin thus found their place in the local culture, with which they sometimes intermingled, at a time when Mongolia was increasingly confronted with external influences, submerged by rivalries that saw, for example, the Oïrat tribes and the Manchus clash. A true novel with multiple twists and turns that will end when the yoke of the Qing dynasty will be imposed and will sign the end of the independence.

The struggle for independence

It was not until the second half of the nineteenth century that movements for independence gained sufficient momentum to finally be considered. A national literature was reinvented, first of all in its oral form and through highly popular tales, some of them featuring common people humiliating officials of the ruling caste, others taking mendicant monks (not lamas) as heroes, the allegory concealing the rebellion and encouraging to denounce the misery suffered by the oppressed. Two storytellers were especially remembered: Sandag and Gelegbalsane.

In writing, literature is embodied in the features of one whose double identity - Bao Henshan in Chinese, Vanchinbalyn Injinash in Mongolian - perfectly expresses the divergence of his time. Born in 1837 to a father whose taiji title guaranteed that he was a direct descendant of Genghis Khan, and who was also a fine scholar and a great collector of Mongolian books, the future writer received a very good education in both languages, but it was the ethnic tensions that indirectly caused his death, since in 1891 the revolt - renamed "incident" by the Chinese despite the tens of thousands of Mongols killed - of Jindandao led him to flee to Liaoning where he died the following year. Considered as the first Mongolian novelist, he composed during his life a work clearly focused on social and even political issues, being critical and patriotic in The Blue Chronicle, which evoked the 13th century, and describing the struggles of youth against the oppressor in southern Mongolia in One-Storey Pavilion

. Although his novels were translated into English and Russian during the 20th century, no French version seems to have been given. Among his contemporaries, two names stand out in particular in the poetic (and often satyrical) genre: that of Dulduityn Danzanravjaa (1803-1856), who was also an astrologer and philosopher, and that of Danzanvanjil (1856-1907), who appears in Myagmar Dush's list of the 100 most influential personalities of Mongolia.

Between 1911 and 1921, the Chinese oppression gave way to the Russian protectorate. The communist period, which will extend from 1924 to 1990, will however coincide with a certain opening on the world, on the one hand because the use of the Russian language will allow access to certain classics of the international literature, on the other hand because certain Mongolian writers start to translate, following the example of Byambyn Rinchen who translates works of Gorky, Maïakovski but also Guy de Maupassant or Nazim Hikmet. In addition to being a renowned linguist - he graduated from the University of Budapest in 1956 - he worked ardently to modernize his native language, and to freeze its idioms by publishing a grammar of Khamnigan in 1969.

On the creative side, several writers stand out, notably Sodonombaljiryn Buyannemekh, whose history has not retained much, except that he was born in 1901 and was executed in 1937, a victim of the great purges. Dashdorjiin Natsagdorj (1906-1937) also had some problems with the justice system, but nevertheless inherits the reputation of being the father of modern Mongolian literature. The tragic love story he invented became an opera - The Three Sad Hills - which is still performed today, and his poem My Native Land has remained a classic of the genre. His younger son, Tsendiin Damdinsüren, also showed his patriotism by writing the lyrics of the National Anthem, which were adopted in 1950 instead of the lyrics of the International, which had become the norm at the beginning of the Soviet era. A few years later, Chadrabalyn Lodoidamba (1917-1970), who had already made a name for himself in 1954 with his tale Malgait chono(The Wolf and the Cap), wrote what is considered his most remarkable work, Tungalag tamir(The Clear Tamir), a novel with revolutionary overtones, as it tells the story of a worker who, in the 1920s, is unjustly fired and then mistreated again by his new boss, until he can no longer bear the repeated humiliations.. This text was adapted for the screen in 1970 by the filmmaker Ravjagiin Dorjpalam and became a huge cinematic success. Finally, let's mention the prolix Ryentchinii Tchoinom (1936-1979) who also had a run-in with the communist regime, before turning our attention to an author - that we will have the privilege of discovering in French - who has mainly focused on the difficulty of Mongolians to reconcile the safeguarding of traditions and the entry into modernity.

The revival

Galsan Tschinag was born in 1944 and spent part of his life abroad, particularly in Germany, whose language he has kept. The Mongolian steppes where he grew up offered him a setting where he liked to camp his heroines, from Dojnaa (Picquier editions) to Dombruk (in Le Fin du chant). In a more intimate way, this author also discovers himself in Ciel bleu : une enfance dans le Haut-Altaï (éditions Métaillié) a story, the first, which already assured him international recognition, and in Chaman

, published by the same editor, which recalls the spiritual heritage of which he is the worthy custodian. His country has changed a lot since the year of his birth, since in 1990 Mongolia experienced a democratic revolution and became a republic. This reversal has a paradoxical effect on literature: if censorship was no longer in order, the only national publishing house also disappeared, so books became a rare commodity. Nevertheless, at the dawn of the 2000s, the situation has finally stabilized, the sector can now boast several dozen independent publishers who are working hard to overcome the difficulties, the price of books and especially the fact that Mongolian speakers use different alphabets (Cyrillic or Barsig). In spite of everything, the readers' demands remain strong, whether it is for historical works in a country whose past has been erased for so long, or for translations of foreign novels of which they are always so fond. This readership encourages local production, with writers not hesitating to self-publish, sometimes with great success, or to resort to more traditional means, as did the journalist Baatarsuren Shuudertsetseg, who published her first texts in magazines and is now extremely well known. Her novel based on the life of Queen Anu has been adapted to the theater, then to the cinema, and even to a comic book for young people. Luvsandorj Ulziitugs, also a journalist, began by writing poetry before devoting herself to the delicate art of short stories, 13 of which have been translated into French in an anthology entitled Aquarium: short stories from today's Mongolia. This collection is offered by Borealia Editions who also published Bronze Heart, a collection of 22 short stories by 20th century Mongolian writers. Proud of its origins and well anchored in its time, the literary generation born in the 1970s proves that it does not hesitate to push back the borders.