W.E.B. Du Bois on Socialism and the American Negro

Someone has been so kind as to share W.E.B. DuBois's speech for a socialist audience in Madison, WI. Speaking on African-Americans and socialism, this speech provides an interesting example of the last shift of DuBois's life, a shift to socialism and Pan-Africanism. In addition to this fascinating talk from 1960, one can find the 'audio autobiography' recordings of DuBois explaining the story of his life to Moses Asch, available on Youtube. Once you realize how long he lived and how influential he was in US intellectual history, his life story becomes even more impressive. 

Guerrillas

"Everybody wants to fight his own little war, everybody is a guerrilla."

V.S. Naipaul's Guerrillas is his literary attempt to encapsulate what occurred with the rise of Black Power in the West Indian context. Writing on the subject in his nonfiction, much of Guerrillas is consistent thematically with his other writings on the subject. Here, from one of his essays on Black Power and the killings in Trinidad, is a brief commentary on Black Power: 

Black Power as rage, drama, and style, as revolutionary jargon, offers something to everybody: to the unemployed, the idealistic, the dropout, the Communist, the politically frustrated, the anarchist, the angry student returning home from humiliations abroad, the racialist, the old fashioned black preacher who has for years said that after Israel it was to be the turn of Africa. Black Power means Cuba and China; it also means clearing the Chinese and the Jews and the tourists out of Jamaica. It is identity and it is also miscegenation. It is drinking holy water, eating pork and dancing; it is going back to Abyssinia. There has been no movement like it in the Caribbean since the French Revolution.

With this framework in mind, Naipaul's Guerrillas dissects Black Power into psychological, sexual, political, racial, and economic terms. I disagree with much of his characterization of 'Black Power,' yet find his depiction of white liberals as even more scathing in this unnamed Caribbean location. Roche, a white South African jailed by the regime for his bombings of a powerstation and railway, and Jane, an English woman full of lies and half-truths, come to this island as the gangs (or guerrillas) are threatening the government and status quo. 

However, as Naipaul's essay indicates, the motives and goals of Black Power varied consistently and meant numerous things. Jimmy Ahmed, the Black Power 'leader,' back in the Caribbean after accusations of rape in London, is half-Chinese, was never fully accepted by the Chinese shopkeepers of the island, and exploits his power to abuse slum boys and rape. Much like the riots and dissolution of his agricultural commune, supported by the government and a company, Sablich, Jimmy Ahmed reveals himself to be a sexually frustrated, confused individual whose final actions in the novel leave one breathless. Much like the incomplete sexual climax, this novel ends similarly.

What dragged down the quality of this novel, which, is not too far from Bend in the River, (a novel I hated profusely for its image of Africa and the Congo), is the lack of a first-person narrator. The sort of deracinated Indian figure Patrick French describes as Naipaul's first-person narrator in novels like Bend At the River would have improved the prose, dialogue, and pace of the text. One feels little for any of the main characters (Jimmy Ahmed, Jane, Peter Roche). While surprisingly very critical of certain forms of neocolonialism (US bauxite mining companies and influence, for example), the novel also continues Naipaul's casual derision for the Caribbean as a dependent region with little ideas of its own. 

To its credit, Naipaul manages to describe in great detail an island that could be multiple places in the Caribbean in the 1970s. His vivid descriptions of colors, plants, the bush, social and physical segregation in the capital, and the insistent beat of reggae speak to his personal experience and travels in the region. The frustrations of the local elite, the black and brown poor, internalized racial and class prejudices, and the good intentions of white 'liberals' like Jane and Roche are all depicted as part of the problem in this complex tale of sexual frustration, personal failures, acceptance, and pain. Kudos to Naipaul for managing to keep his narrative together and weave together themes of race, Black Power, apartheid South Africa, and white liberals together. 

Bilongo

Bilongo! Mandinga! Enjoy a classic song from Latin jazz artist Frank Emilio Flynn. They even quote "Dark Eyes," too.

Small Island

"And Hortense. Her face still haughty. But how long before her chin is cast down? For, fresh from a ship, England had not yet deceived her. But soon it will. All us pitiful West Indian dreamers who sailed with heads bursting with foolishness were a joke to my clever smirking cousin now."

Andrea Levy's Small Island is actually quite reminiscent of Samuel Selvon's The Lonely Londoners, but also the more recent White Teeth. While focusing specifically on two couples, Jamaican and English, around the time of World War II, Levy's novel tells the story of the Windrush generation of Jamaican immigrants in London. Zadie Smith's White Teeth occurs decades later, but both novels share a similar fixation with the Second World War as the springboard for anticolonialism and immigration in London. Both novels also feature India and Jamaica, although none of the major characters in Levy's novel are from South Asia. 

Instead, we get a very Jamaica-centered narrative on how West Indians contributed to the war effort, experienced extreme discrimination in the military and civilian life in London, and the rising tides of independence in Jamaica and India. Levy's novel somehow manages to encapsulate so much of the tragedy and contradictions of World War II with a sense of humor that is quite endearing and optimistic. The film adaptation is very faithful to these themes and humor of the novel, which pleasantly surprised me when I finally completed the book. 

One gets a very useful background in Jamaica during the 1930s and 1940s. Hortense and Gilbert's intriguing backgrounds reveal so much of the intricacies of color and class in Jamaican society, with the strong assumptions forced into West Indian minds that England is the 'Mother County,' English ways are best. Upon finally reaching England, the dream dies as Hortense and Gilbert endure the racist and classist prejudices of London. Like Selvon, Lamming, Smith, and numerous other Caribbean or Caribbean-descended writers, the bitterness of the immigrant experience pervades the text. The imperialism (and outright racism) of England's military and treatment of Indians during Bernard's service also tie in here, revealing how the myths about World War II as a 'fight for democracy' or 'freedom' were nothing but. 

The real magic of Levy's novel lies in how she manages to juxtapose this Caribbean immigrant experience with the class nuances of white England. Queenie's character eventually becomes a sympathetic one, despite her disturbing upbringing (Queenie used to mock the children of miners, the poorest of the poor) and being reared by a class-conscious aunt in London who prepared for her for a loveless marriage for economic security and status. The strictures of the class system of English society seem to come to life in Levy's tale, revealing some common threads with the search for opportunity by Caribbean immigrants after the war. It is, in this sense, one finds the mutual experiences of the Blighs and Josephs capable of expressing some hope for the subsequent generations of a multicultural, multiracial London.

Small Island (Film)

Small Island was humorous and retains aspects of Andrea Levy's novel quite well. The acting talent of David Oyelowo and Benedict Cumberbatch certainly helped. The actress who played Hortense is the very same woman who played the mother of Irie in the White Teeth miniseries. Unfortunately, the movie omitted the colorism of Hortense's Jamaican background and omitted numerous aspects of Hortense and Gilbert's Jamaican background. The film succeeds excellently in criticizing the incredible xenophobia and racism against the Windrush West Indians in London, but could've benefited from a miniseries format instead of a two-part film.

Johannesburg Mines (Langston Hughes)

In the Johannesburg mines

There are 240,000 natives working.

What kind of poem

Would you make out of that?

240,000 natives working

In the Johannesburg mines.

Dodo Turgeau

A lovely version of "Dodo Turgeau" from Dupervil. Enjoy this stately song. For those interested in earlier recordings, there's also one from Issa El Saieh online.

Dope (2015)

Rick Famuyiwa's compelling film, Dope, is an excellent film documenting the lives of three nerds living in Inglewood. It seems to be part of a broader shift in popular culture and the arts to reflect the diversity of the 'black' experience by focusing on the so-called 'ghetto nerds.' If there's anything we should thank Junot Diaz for, it should be for writing about a 'ghetto nerd' like Oscar in his famous novel, which I think has influenced discussions of culture and race among people of color. 

The protagonist, Malcolm, lives with his single mother, is from a lower-class background, does not know his father (the father returned to Nigeria when Malcolm was still an infant or before he was born), is incredibly bright, loves 90s hip-hop and stereotypical 'white' things (skateboarding, manga, punk rock), and is bullied by the 'tough' guys, drug dealers, and gangs who dominate certain streets. 

Determined to go to Harvard, the film's narrative covers a period in Malcolm's senior year as he's caught up in the drug dealing world he knows nothing about. Along with his two best friends, a Latino nerd and a lesbian nerd who dresses in 'men's' clothing (note how all three are 'ghetto nerds' and outcast or isolated from stereotypes associated with their racial identities), Malcolm discovers more than he ever expected as he struggles to escape getting killed, hurt, and take care of the 'dope' for a very important person. 

In the hopes of not revealing too much of the plot, I do want to admit that I accurately inferred that the two wealthy siblings at the 'safehouse' the drug dealer sends Malcolm to are connected to another very important person for Malcolm's future. The film uses certain 'code words' that indicate this, which in itself is making it inherently critical of class or assumptions of racial solidarity. 

In addition, the plot often advances through flashbacks and a non-linear format that can be a bit jarring. Some scenes seemed to have went on too long (for example, the series of scenes explaining the white hacker who helps the crew sell the drugs), suggesting a tighter editing job could have eliminated excess scenes or helped create a more coherent narrative. But who knows, maybe that's the point of the film? The chaotic, crazy series of events in Malcolm's life are a series of hurricanes, changing his perceptions of his community, his aspirations, and his relationships. 

Nonetheless, there are problems with the unclear narration. For instance, the film does not do a great job demonstrating to the audience, before the 'villain' is told by Malcolm, how Malcolm has trapped him into helping him advance (again, I don't want to have too many spoilers in this short review...). Likewise, the scene with Malcolm breaking the fourth wall and reading/demonstrating (with Inglewood in the background) his application letter to Harvard was redundant. Why? It was redundant because everything Malcolm put in his letter was already indicated to the audience as we watched the film! If anything, it came off as preachy, or perhaps just another way for Malcolm to assert his 'arrogance' in way that makes him more respectable or deserving of that attitude.

One could also criticize the role of Zoe Kravitz. Her character is really just a minor romantic interest, and is omitted from most of the film. I am still unsure how her relationship with Malcolm is resolved by the film's conclusions, and, to be honest, it probably doesn't matter. Her character is a minor one for the most part, and lacking more depth. With a more carefully edited project and a few more scenes featuring her, this 'romance' element of the film would have been more successful. One could easily take issue with the portrayal of other women in this film, despite the strong lead playing Malcolm's friend, who chooses to side with Malcolm throughout. Another problematic woman character is Malcolm's mother, who barely appears in the movie except for an early scene and another important one during her bus route (she's the driver). 

As for positive attributes, the film is gorgeous. Visually, it manages to capture so much of the landmarks, trees, and beauty of Inglewood, Los Angeles. The comedic element is never absent (Seven Bucks Coffee!), and one suspects there might be elements of 'hysterical realism' (yes, I know that's a loaded term) in various scenes in the film. The drug dealers are not one dimensional, but actually discuss foreign policy and the morality of drone strikes! The 'overuse' of nostalgic 1990s hip-hop actually matches themes of 'authenticity' and change in the community, as well as contributing to the plot or tone. 

This film seems to explore the nuances of racial and cultural identity in a way that neither trivializes nor essentializes it. By the film's end, one sees how Malcolm has become the synthesis of the two broadly defined young adults of his community: the so-called 'thug' or drug dealer and the 'ghetto nerd' intellectual. Thus, in a very powerful, compelling, intriguing, visually breathtaking, and humorous tale of crime and drama, the Nigerian-American director's project dismantles many of the myths or stereotypes imposed on Inglewood by outsiders and residents. 

Unfortunately, I have seen very few films that seem interested in exploring the lives of characters like Malcolm, few that are willing to tackle the kinds of issues raised here, without falling into dogmatic camps of identity politics. One hopes to see future films that are willing to explore race without falling back on stereotypes, which remains the most common depictions of African-Americans.

Ways of Sunlight

Trinidadian writer Samuel Selvon was an expert storyteller. Combining the West Indian vernacular, oral tradition, a great sense of humor, and a keen awareness of the dynamics of class, race, and colonialism, the short story collection, Ways of Sunlight, is an excellent collection of tales. Juxtaposing short stories set in Trinidad with stories set in London captures the zeitgeist of the rapidly changing postwar world. Much like his The Lonely Londoners, Selvon breathes life into his characters as they struggle, love, find happiness, experience trauma, and migrate to urban Trinidad or London. I highly recommend "Brackley and the Bed" for those seeking his great sense of humor. 

London Is the Place For Me

Classic calypso sounds from the legendary Lord Kitchener! Despite its praise for London and the 'mother country,' Kitchener and other West Indians who moved to London in the postwar years quickly learned how racist English society was. In this sense, this lovely song is useful accompaniment to Selvon's classic, The Lonely Londoners. For those interested in Lord Kitchener, there is an interesting BBC radio documentary on his life and music.