Martian Time-Slip

"It is the stopping of time. The end of experience, of anything new. Once the person becomes psychotic, nothing ever happens to him again."

Still working my way through the essential PKD list George gave me a few weeks ago. Just finished "Martian Time-Slip" today. Very intriguing story on many levels. UN, co-ops, unions, colonization, human nature, schizophrenia, metaphysics, education, and race (the 'black' Bleekmen) figure prominently in this novel, and I appreciate how intertextual PKD's 1960s novels are (precogs). In a sense, Three Stigmata, Ubik and other works are hinted at by the early exploration of 'psionic' powers and human settlement elsewhere in the solar system. The description of schizophrenia here also brings to mind the destructiveness of Substance D on the protagonist of "A Scanner Darkly" or even the questionable sanity of Dick's fictionalized version of himself in "Valis."Furthermore, there is some insightful social commentary, particularly on mental illness, avarice, and the limitations of industrial models of education. I suspect PKD would be quite critical of the corporate education reform movement had he lived to see the rapid changes in public schools, although the public education system of his own lifetime was horrid enough. Class, greed, the need for human intimacy, all illustrated quite movingly in this novel. 

One should certainly not ignore the prominence of race and colonialism as themes of this work. By far the most race-conscious novel by Dick (the indigenous Bleekmen of Mars, who live bleak, nomadic lives as a dying race, are often referred to as niggers, blacks, and compared to the "Bushmen" of Africa), racism, anti-Semitism, fear, and how human societies "deal with" those on the margins or periphery are disturbingly demonstrated by the corrupt union boss, the casual anti-Semitism of a black market dealer in Earth luxuries, and the willingness of some colonists to support eradication of schizoid or mentally ill children, unsurprisingly kept at Camp Ben Gurion in New Israel, the Israeli settlement on Mars. Although one could ask why Dick did not use Earth-born people of African descent in a discussion about race, since one does not need to resort to fictional alien blacks to dissect society's racial "issues," the "dark" race of indigenes broadens the discussion of race to become analogous with European expansion in the Americas as well as anti-black racism. Indeed, when reading Arnie's harsh words for his "tame" Bleekman servant, Heliogabalus, one cannot help but think of the white working-class unionists who opposed blacks, against their own class interests, a similar fate for Arnie as Mars is on the brink of attracting massive land speculation and development from the co-ops and UN. 

One last point. As a recovering housing cooperative community member, the depiction of cooperatives in Dick's future world is fascinating yet never elucidated. Clearly, Earth is crowded and the cooperative apartments have become exclusive underworlds with shopping centers, supermarkets, or, in short, mini-cities in themselves. This future of cooperatives in which the wealthy can afford to invest in their own, separate reality, apart from the "real" world, as experienced in the schizophrenic episodes of Jack Bohlen, depicts a dystopia none of the cooperative housing proponents I have met would ever imagine. Alas, sometimes I think the housing cooperative umbrella I joined was too similar to this science fiction construct...

Ubik

"He felt all at once like an ineffectual moth, fluttering at the windowpane of reality, dimly seeing it from outside."

Philip K. Dick's Ubik is a rollercoaster ride into metaphysics, dualism, and his creative science fiction world where precogs, half-lifers, telepathy, and other psionic activity coexist. Like other Dick novels, reality is not what it seems, a wondrous substance, like the fictional drugs of other novels, affect "reality," and Platonic notions of dualism (forms versus ideas) influence the potentially upsetting depiction of the real world and the world of the dead half-lifers, who can communicate with the 'living' at special moratoriums through advanced technology. Depending on how one reads this unwieldly novel in which most of the characters are "dead," Ella (to be replaced by Joe Chip) and Jory could be the eternal conflict of Ahriman and Ahura Mazda, for those familiar with the ancient Persian religion. I have no idea how to interpret this story...I am apt to suspect all the characters are in half-life, especially based on the novel's final paragraph, but in consideration of Dick's usual themes, I do not think we are to have a definitive answer about the nation of being or reality. 

Pan con Timba

One of my favorites by the legendary Bebo. Featuring exhilarating horn solos, one in homage to Benny Moré's classic, "Qué bueno baila usted," and an infectious piano solo from Bebo himself, I could listen to this all day. I could use some pan con timba right now, matter of fact...

Irène

Merry Christmas! Today, I am enjoying jazz and a random assortment of music. Today's gem is an old meringue, "Irène," performed by the Montreal-based band, Makaya. Irène the name of my great-grandmother, also has sentimental value to me, but I generally love older styles of Caribbean and Latin music, especially styles with a hint of jazz. The original can be found on Youtube or Spotify, as part of the Sans Parole volume of Haitian Belle Epoque music, consisting of meringues, big band, and jazz sounds.

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldtritch

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch makes for strange bedtime reading. It's addictive, much like the illegal drug for collective hallucination, Can-D, of the novel. Like other Dick novels, the obsession with metaphysics, drugs, religious themes, and dystopic futures are explored in a rather engaging tale on reality and unreality, instigated by the return of Palmer Eldtritch from the Proxima Centaurus system. Palmer, once human, disappeared for ten years in that alien star system, returning with a new drug, CHEW-Z, cultivated from lichen he returns with. Unlike the Can-D drug, illegally manufactured by Leo Bulero's P.P. Layouts company, which sells the drugs and "mins" of dollhouse layouts for the desperate colonists of the solar system, CHEW-Z and the god-like Palmer Eldritch break apart reality at the seams in such a way that time travel is possible, along with Palmer Eldritch, despite a future predicted death by the precogs employed by Bulero's company, manages to reassert himself and attain some measure of immortality. Palmer Eldritch, knowing his physical death at the hands of Bulero is down the road, is, at the novel's conclusion, perhaps successful in reaching immortality through movement of the 'unreal' world and phantasms which proliferate throughout the realities. 

If the above makes any sense, clearly there is a lot going on in The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch, yet, like Maze of Death, Mayerson, one of precogs now toiling as a settler on Mars, expresses interest in Neo-Christianity and the hope embodied in the faith. Belief in some higher hope, higher being of which Palmer is only a smaller part of, can lead to salvation or escape from the world of forms in which the characters are ensnared. Thus, there are Gnostic elements in this work, as well as some parallels with Vonnegut's The Sirens of Titan, since both novels feature god-like beings and deal with themes of fate and divinity. Of course, whether or not Mayerson finds salvation through the ancient faith of Christianity or if Leo succeeds in ending Palmer is purposely ambiguous, as is the future of human "evolution" or Palmer Eldritch himself as "god."

Love and Death in a Hot Country

"Societies could not be created on sheets of parchment. They could not, even with the most golden of fountain pens, be signed into existence. Inevitably, men will succumb to their own reality. They will sink to the level of being where they feel most at ease with themselves. They would always act in conformity with their own natures and remake the world in their own image. The abandonment of the Constitution could be likened to a house settling into its foundations. That, more or less, was what was happening to them. They were falling prey to their own reality, settling into their foundations. (63)"

Shiva Naipaul's final novel, Love and Death in a Hot Country, reflects the darkness of his visiting Guyana after the Jonestown Massacre. In tone and style, this novel bears a much closer resemblance to his brother's novels, beginning with The Mimic Men. Like that great novel, Shiva sets the story in a fictionalized version of a Caribbean country (Cuyama, a thinly-veiled Guyana with aspects of Suriname's demographics thrown in) and ruminates on what both brothers likely see as the chaos and nothingness of Guyana. For those accustomed to Shiva Naipaul's humor, this is a radical departure with the same tone and message of his older brother on postcolonial politics, black radicalism, and the well-intentioned whites who think they're making a difference. Thus, this novel is far too similar to Vidia's Mimic Men or Guerrillas for my taste (there is even a character descended from French Creoles who fled Haiti in the early 19th century, just as in Mimic Men), but still worthwhile for a haunting read on Guyana as the dictatorship unveiled itself. Again, like Vidia, Cuyama/Guyana, or the Caribbean at large, is a region of chaos, no civilization to speak of, no meaning. Cuyama's streets are in decay, everything is in a state of decay or reverting to jungle. This nihilistic theme pervades the character of Dina, a "mixed-race" Indian-Portuguese, whose husband, Aubrey St. Pierre, clings to grandiose ideas of revolution, social equality, and a Cuyamese nation that, to Dina (or, by extension, Shiva Naipaul), will never be. For someone trapped in his older brother's shadow, this final novel only serves to confirm it.

Anacaona Live

Rousing rendition of salsa classic "Anacaona" by a legendary Cuban band, in one of its later incarnations. The vocalist actually sounds a bit like Che Feliciano, so one might as well listen to the original. 

Chumalacatea

La chanson du jour. RIP, Ismael. 

A Scanner Darkly

"Strange how paranoia can link up with reality now and then, briefly."

Philip K. Dick's A Scanner Darkly should be assigned to high school students. Not strictly as an anti-drug novel, but a suspenseful, disturbing look at drug addiction in a world torn asunder by narcotics, nothing is as it seems, and the metaphorical disconnect between left and right sides of the brain have disastrous consequences for a dystopic 1990s Orange County. The heads and "straights" live in separate worlds, class divides are deeply entrenched and, much like the Substance D users, the "straights" are not exactly living in a world of reality, either. Undercover narcotics agents, conspiracies, and the usual rants of drug-addled minds provide more than enough action and dark humor, including a dig at Ayn Rand. Typical for Dick, the continued obsession with metaphysics and the nature of being and reality are interwoven with this complex tale of Fred/Robert Arctor, who is investigating himself. Time, existence, or the infinite reflections and holograms exemplify this theme, something accomplished more effectively in Dick's 1960s novels than here. A mind trip nonetheless, no?

The film, the most faithful adaptation of any Dick fiction to the big screen, is marred by a jarring animation style (interpolated rotoscape), which is not to my taste. Telling Dick's story visually, however, has some advantages, mainly in illustrating physicality of the heads and their declining grasp of "reality," yet veering dangerously close to horrid stoner comedy. There are some conspicuous changes, too. The presence of race is far less apparent in the film than the novel. For example, the scene in which Barris finds out the ten-speed bike he buys from some black guys, who, in the novel, likely stole it, the race of the sellers is omitted. Likewise, numerous references to "queers" and "homosexuals" also disappears from the film, perhaps in response to changing social conventions of the 2000s instead of the dystopic fictional world of Dick's imagination and its concrete, 1970s background. If so inclined, one could write ceaselessly on Dick's writing as it relates to race and gender.

Short Rant on Naipaul's Africa

One of the most disturbing aspects of V.S. Naipaul's high esteem is the likelihood of casual readers interpreting his travel writing or fiction on Africa as possessing the necessary depth to explain the problems facing postcolonial Africa. Since Naipaul has traveled to and Africa since the 1960s, and traveled throughout the continent, I cannot dispute his experiences, but his Conradian image of Africa is arguably worse than Conrad. Conrad’s famous novella, at least, could possibly be read as an anti-imperialist text. Instead, Naipaul, as Walcott once said, writes what the Western powers want to read in true postcolonial mandarin fashion. This is not to say that postcolonial Africa (or anywhere else, really) did not face several internal contradictions or problems not entirely reducible to imperialism, but Naipaul’s fiction and nonfiction often rearranges complex historical and political developments in such a way to fit his rather dismal, fundamentally undemocratic view of the world, best seen in A Bend In the River.

As Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie illustrates in “Americanah” some Americans and Europeans who read Naipaul's writings set in Africa may interpret Naipaul's ahistorical reduction of ethnic and political conflict in African countries like Rwanda, Burundi, and Congo as legitimate explanations for modern developments and conflicts. In short, under colonial rule, the endless warfare of the 'warrior tribes' against the weak were abated, but as soon as colonial rule ended, warfare resumed. This kind of ahistorical reading of Africa, which appears in Naipaul's "In a Free State" and inspired by travels to East Africa and the Congo, is pervasive in Naipaul’s fear of the ubiquitous bush and its African villagers, who, despite being rendered as beyond the pale of history, at least know who they are. In his own characteristically way, Naipaul will criticize white colonials and their fantasy of Africa, but the “real” Africa is nothing more than bush gradually reconquering the colonial towns, African tribes against other tribes. While some may interpret his Africa fiction as positing an even more dystopic worldview than only rehashing the “benighted Dark Continent” trope, a disturbing and seemingly casual racism also makes it hard to take him seriously. 

For anyone really interested in Rwanda, Burundi, Uganda, or, especially, the Congo, the setting of Naipaul’s most famous work, Mahmood Mamdani does a much better job explaining what really transpired in, Rwanda, for example, which led to the genocide. The very role of colonialism itself in structuring and restructuring ethnic difference is not present in Naipaul’s fiction, save his last two novels, which are based on Mozambique. There, I’ve said my piece and established, I hope, some reasons why Naipaul’s Africa is so “problematic.” 

Sleeping Beauty

Amazing introspective number from Sun Ra. John Gilmore's inimitable style picks things up while the last four minutes are heavenly. Anyone seeking proof that Sun Ra's later output holds up and isn't just fusion-styled noodling or over the top Sun Ra quirkiness, should listen to songs like "Sleeping Beauty," or the excellent jazz-funk of Lanquidity.

The Chip-Chip Gatherers

"The sugarcane alone flourished in that intractable environment: a bright, burning green offensive to the eye seeking escape from its limiting and limitless horizons."

Shiva Naipaul's The Chip-Chip Gatherers, set in Trinidad, is a difficult read to assess. While retaining aspects of the comic sensibilities and stronger female characters of Fireflies, in this novel, the existential crisis of the "chip-chip gatherers," the Trinidadian people, particularly women condemned to an early death by the strictures of sex and class in the Settlement, makes for a much darker tone with appropriately dark humor. Telling the story of two families, Shiva Naipaul's scathing social commentary is more condescending here, especially to the countryside of Trinidad and its aspirants to power or wealth, such as Egbert Ramsaran or Mrs. Bholai. There is even sexual angst, a disturbing experience on the part of Egbert's son with a prostitute in Port of Spain, and a general meaninglessness of life on the island that one can find in the works of Shiva's older brother. Indeed, the rise and fall of Egbert, from illiterate poverty in the countryside to his last days in decay despite his material wealth reveals some of the innate absurdity of class relations in Trinidadian society of this era. 

In short, The Chip-Chip Gatherers struck me as cruel and a more emotionally taxing read without much of the humor in the masterpiece in tragicomedy, Fireflies. Both novels share dysfunctional families, marriages, horrible conditions for women, and the problem of class and race (including douglas in this second novel), but "The Chip-Chip Gatherers is more aligned with, in my opinion, V.S. Naipaul's post-Biswas writings in its detachment and often excessive cruelty. However, as in the case of Mrs. Lutchman, for Sita, the young illegitimate child of Sushila, a young rebel also torn apart by the ravages of time and strict gender roles, one can see Shiva Naipaul's appreciation of and respect for the plight of women in Trinidadian society. Sita, Rani, Mrs. Bholai, Basdai, Phula, Sushila, and other women in this novel have, despite their shortcomings and personal defects, ranging from pride or vanity to shame and passive resignation, a far more sympathetic and nuanced portrayal in the pen of Shiva than most of the women in V.S. Naipaul's fiction. Indeed, perhaps this sympathy can be seen quite well in the overall less pessimistic Trinidad novels of Shiva versus those of Vidia, where there is, in some Sisyphean sense, purpose in these seemingly insignificant lives, if the novel's final paragraph on the rotting tree and the village chip-chip gatherers is read between the lines.  

Valis

Finally finished Philip K. Dick's VALIS, a mindtrip that explores an experience with a 'God-like' entity that Dick claimed to experience in 1974. Not unlike A Maze of Death, Gnosticism, Christianity, and other religions interact in an ecumenical melange of theological and philosophical concepts related to VALIS/Zebra/God as Dick and his alter ego, Horselover Fat, try to understand their life after experiencing a pink light and AI-like voices, beginning in '74. Fusing fiction with autobiographical aspects of his own life, such as suicide attempt, drugs, family conflicts, etc, and Dick's long-held fascination with religion, reality, and 'unreality,' provides interesting insights into his own "real" life and quotes from his Exegesis, but as such is all over the place, making it quite clear that this is either the mind of a mad man or, perhaps, a rational person who sees 'normality' as insanity because it adheres to the fake, material world of 'reality.' His alternative cosmogony, combining faiths from all over the world, is also quite impressive (Dogon people and ancient Egypt are accorded important places in this Dickian worldview, reminding one of Akhenaton's importance in Ishmael Reed's alternate history). Personally, I prefer Dick's more 'traditional' science fiction, but VALIS is certainly a great example of science fiction postmodernism creativity and intellectual food for the brain. 

A Maze of Death

Philip K. Dick's A Maze of Death represents a more religious themed novel from the great science fiction writer than I am accustomed to. Of course, religion and philosophy are important subjects in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and The Man in the High Castle, but this is the first to postulate and explore at the intersection of "reality" and "unreality" God, divided into a Trinity of sorts in a religion compounding Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Gnosticism, existentialism, and the meaning of life for a motley crew of colonists on a planet, Delmak-O. Reading this, one could not help but think of Vonnegut's Sirens of Titan for its similar fixation on God, determinism, and the meaning of life, or early Camus, either. Dick's drug addiction and LSD use also shaped this novel, particularly evident in some hallucinations and mind-bending colors and shapes throughout the text, especially in the theologian's experience and one character's trances, images of the Form Destroyer (the Black One, alluding to Gnosticism and Manichean dualism). Perhaps one must have faith and knowledge, and one can find salvation by seeing through the false, material realities, if you buy into Gnosticism at all... 

Beyond the Dragon's Mouth: Stories and Pieces

"I understood. Sufficient unto any man the handicap of being straightforwardly Indian or straightforwardly West Indian. But to contrive somehow how to combine the two was a challenge to reason. An Indian from the West Indies! I was guilty of a compound sin."

Shiva Naipaul's Beyond the Dragon's Mouth: Stories and Pieces consists of short stories and travel writings, taking the reader from Naipaul's native Trinidad to Puerto Rico, Grenada, Suriname, Seychelles, England, Portugal, India, Iran, Morocco, and Jamaica. While I found his travel writing to be, shall we say, less racist or offensive than VS Naipaul, both share a similar worldview ("My day trip between Islam and Christianity, Africa and Europe, had gone sour on me"). Shiva's perceptive observations on the "Bush Negroes" of Suriname was interesting (they're not Africa in South America, but have become something new altogether), as was his critical but, in my view, accurate statements on the problems of Rastafarianism as a faith and ideology. His fiction, however, is where he shines. The characteristically Naipaul sense of humor, mixed with some condescension, characterizes his short stories in this collection. By far, Naipaul's talent with comedy is most apparent throughout all of the stories, especially "Mr Sookhoo and the Carol Singers" and "The Beauty Contest," two stories set in Trinidad featuring lovable yet amusing characters. 

The Jesse Jackson Phenomon: The Crisis of Purpose in Afro-American Politics

"Because discussion of Afro-American affairs is so often dominated by a patronizing, exceptionalist bias that suspends norms of critical reflection and judgment, intrinsically absurd claims frequently attain currency" (29).

Adolph Reed's 1986 publication on the 1984 Jesse Jackson campaign, The Jesse Jackson Phenomon: The Crisis of Purpose in Afro-American Politics, retains its relevance to the state of black politics today. We still face the exceptionalist bias and essentialist reasoning that has kept brokerage politics alive for decades. Focusing on the 1984 campaign of Jackson reveals a persistent assumption of uniform black "racial interest," the conflict between the protest elite and the elected official elites vying for racial organic legitimation while mainly fighting for gains that disproportionately benefit upper income blacks. 

I also found Reed's contention with claims of black clergy as political leaders and the 'divine' rhetoric of the Jackson campaign persuasive, particularly as it is built on an exaggeration of black clergy and churches as leadership and political in nature, despite evidence for secular forces and leaders causing black churches to adopt more political stances. Nevertheless, Jackson exploited the claim of clerical political authority to assert his mass 'base' while never offering any concrete policy proposals or agenda beyond a seat at the table at the convention. In short, Jackson's campaign represented a thrust by the protest elite to reassert itself, while avoiding any fundamental break from racial authenticity appeals or the rise of neoliberalism among elected officials and protest elites. 

I fear some subsets of identitarians are wedded to the race management system of brokerage and emphasis on the upper income strata, as long as the protest elites and elected officials feature more women and LGBT individuals. What I wonder about now is how the 21st century iteration of this protest elite/elected elite dynamic plays out now in the midst of Black Lives Matter, calls for black leadership that are horizontal or privilege queer black women, and some resurgence of left social democratic or anti-austerity protests? Is Black Lives Matter, Campaign Zero, and other iterations another example of a nascent protest elite which, as Jackson did in the 1980s, legitimizes itself based on a "racial agenda" without any accountability as its links with foundations and neoliberal elected elites, black and white? Is it fair to refer to the transition of this newer, 'diverse' crop of black protest elites as wedging its role into black politics as brokerage and neoliberalism? I suppose it's hard to say in light of the decentralized nature of Black Lives Matter and its varying approach to electoral politics, albeit one in which incorporation into the Democratic 2016 apparatus appears almost complete.

Racecraft: The Soul of Inequality in American Life

An interesting discussion between Barbara Fields and Coates on Racecraft: The Soul of Inequality in American Life. In a provocative series of chapters by the Fields sisters, they compellingly argue that racism created race and compare the reproducing ideology of racism and race to belief in witchcraft in European and African contexts. Listening to this conversation and reading the book, I couldn't help but remember conversations with friends on these topics, particularly the ways in which our "folk conventions" of race reappear in science, despite the lack of any scientific basis for race as a valid concept of biology. From genetics to blood, we continue to reaffirm the notion of race as valid or appropriate in medicine, diagnosis, blood donations, and even pseudoscience on innate differences physical styles, athleticism and intelligence. 

A recent conversation with a friend of mine was an important moment of recognizing how so many people from all backgrounds continue to think of blood, race, and ethnicity as distinct races which can be grouped and differentiated from each other, a notion which quickly falls apart in cases such as sickle cell or ideas about which diseases black people are supposed to have. I was reminded of something Adolph Reed wrote about genetics and epigenetics, which seems like it could easily lead to another attempt to use genes and recent trends in science to rehash previous discourse of alleged racial and culture sources  as the main culprits for inequality. Sometimes it feels as if we are trapped in the Victorian era notions of class and inequality, occasionally mixing up the terminology of race, class, and genes.

Another issue touched upon in the book and this lecture is the multiracial movement, which Fields convincingly argues is multiracist and biracist, since its premised on notions of distinct, "pure" races. Referring to one estimate that found 24% of "whites" on the 1970 US census had "black" ancestors, it becomes quite clear how notions of "pure" races is a myth, yet the multiracial movement is pushing forward this agenda. This rears its ugly head in moments like claims of "authentic racial identity," as mentioned by the authors, which cannot exist when race is the product of racism, and there is huge internal diversity and other causal factors for so-called "black culture," such as racism and Jim Crow leading to some unique characteristics which appear among Afro-Americans, like "Black English." Arguing against ideas of African retention, the sisters suggest the main factor, racism and segregation, often led to these distinctive characteristics of "black culture," which has always been highly flexible evolving. 

Unfortunately, the influence of Durkheim, Pritchards, DuBois and Appiah is not explored as fully as in the text. The importance of witchcraft and understanding how, historically, Europeans of the not so recent past, and African societies of yesterday and today, can continue to believe in witches in a rational manner, is applicable to racecraft or racism and the creation of race, since both racecraft and witchcraft use similar invisible ontology. The analogy may not be as perfect as the authors wish, yet I found it an incredibly useful way to look at racism in the US context, lent further credence by the fact that both are unfounded by notions by science yet continue to operate in their respective societies. 

In spite of similarities to witchcraft and certain common processes of human social and religious thought, racecraft and racism is not an inevitable fact of human life. The text explains quite succinctly how racism evolved within particular social and economic conditions, a process taking the reader back to 17th century Virginia and its gradual development of slavery. Subsequently, notions of race and racism were still not grounded in "science" until the 19th century, despite Jefferson's fame as the US's first "racial pundit." Anyway, it is mistaken to blame "race" as the cause of slavery, when it was really racism and the need for labor that led to notions of race and perpetual servitude, not some psychological need to identify Africans as an inferior peoples on an ideology which only arose after decades of slavery and indentured labor. This is the weakness pounced upon by Fields in much of the scholarship on race among historians and sociologists, which often presupposes race before racism/racecraft. Thus, "race" is blamed for Jim Crow or a white police officer shooting a black police officer, instead of racism. It can be traced back to slavery and the circular logic or reasoning of some scholars who argue race led to slavery or racism.

Elucidating ideology as something not inherited like heirlooms but a constant process of reinvention, the idea of racism or racecraft persists, much to the detriment of addressing deeper inequality, as addressed in the final chapters of Racecraft. Lamentably, there are not enough remedies or prescriptions for how to uproot racecraft in US society, but the book offers some insight on how racism functions and infiltrates science, politics, and, dare I say it, African-American Studies and identity politics. Conflating "race," a product of racecraft, with "culture" and immutable or essentialized groups inhibits recognition of broader systemic issues in the face of austerity and declining real wages for all working-class and poor people. Although certainly not advocating for colorblindness, one can easily draw from left-leaning ideologies or programs as one avenue of redress, consistent with Verso Books. 

Mighty Dougla

 

Excellent and topical calypso number by Mighty Dougla on race and ethnic differences in Trinidad. As a reader with a growing interest in Trinidad, this song encapsulates some of the ethnic, racial, and political divides in Trinidad, some excellently satirized in Naipaul's The Suffrage of Elvira.

Revolutionaries to Race Leaders: Black Power and the Making of African American Politics

"To the extent that I focus on the sources of radical decline, this study is written against the grain of the prevailing vindicationist trend in the literature on Black Power radicalism."

Reading Cedric Johnson's Revolutionaries to Race Leaders: Black Power and the Making of African American Politics reminds one of Adolph Reed. Both Johnson and Reed share a leftist perspective, both scholars are critical of racial identity politics, and last, but certainly not least, both lament the decline of practical, everyday relevance of the sectarian leftists to the "masses." In fact, Johnson's Revolutionaries to Race Leaders is quite similar to Adolph Reed's Stirrings in the Jug: Black Politics in the Post-Segregation Era, and the two texts complement the other. Johnson and Reed persuasively connect the Jim Crow past, civil rights advances, and the post-segregation era of black politics in a direction that reveals the limitations of Black Power discourse and "unity without uniformity" thinking. For that reason, in an age when popular black memory of Black Power often obscures the shortcomings of black nationalism, and a current wave of identity politics has resurfaced, Revolutionaries to Race Leaders is an important, but challenging read for those in my generation who have lionized the activists and intellectuals of the zenith of Black Power in the late 1960s and 1970s, from Baraka and Carmichael to Malcolm or Newton.

If "Black America" is not a real corporate entity, and the divergent interests of African Americans could not be silenced or cast aside in the name of "black unity" or black nationalism, due to class, regional, gender, and political differences, then why continue to pursue a race-first agenda that falls apart? Johnson's critical overview of Harold Cruse's work on black nationalism, Amiri Baraka's significant work as a proponent of Black Power, and the various Black Power conventions and organizations, such as the African Liberation Support Committee or the 1972 Gary convention, analyzes how each failed, in part, for reasons described by Adolph Reed as Black Power embraced ethnic politics and elite brokerage instead of retaining a democratic base and practical relevance. The sectarianism of the "scientific socialists" described by both scholars, for example, Marxist-Leninists wings of the ALD, and the cultural nationalists, too, were vanguardist, elitist despite democratic rhetoric, and unable to challenge the New Right, the transition to the Corporate City, or the inherent restrictions of organizing based on race alone. 

Particularly relevant to today is the peril of sectarianism and racial essentialism among cultural nationalists, rooted in prewar notions of race as culture and a poor understanding of culture, often leading to a fictitious "blackness" to organize around. Some of this disturbing essentialism is common among certain identitarian circles and organizations, leading to poor understanding of race, culture, identity, and building practical coalitions. Some, despite the not-so-recent past, for instance, still prefer to organize based on explicitly racial lines because multiracial coalitions or alliances or ideas and theories from "whites" are considered unacceptable, or they seek to ignore class differences in the name of a presumably homogeneous "blackness." As a casual observer of the Left, the vanguardist strain remains ever-present, too, often culminating in minor organizations vying for influence and recruitment but mired in arguments over the Russian Revolution, Castroist Cuba, petty ideological differences as a premise for engagement, as well as a failure to collaborate or form alliances. 

As for black politics today, we are still plagued by these lingering ideologies from the Black Power era, and the current movements and campaigns based on race leave me uncertain yet optimistic at heart. I see disturbing trends among overt identitarians that leave one wondering if it is 1968 instead of 2015. That said, surveys and other evidence on political behavior of 'Black America' does suggest some general, progressive hope which means black 'nationalism' can remain useful. Glen Ford from the Black Agenda Report has talked about Black America as the most left-leaning group in the US, the most "Scandinavia-like." Johnson's commentary on the 1972 Black Agenda from Gary and subsequent convention agendas or programs belie this point, which suggests, to some extent, race-based politics and bringing together the mostly progressive, left social democratic orientation of most African-Americans may be politically useful, particularly in the labor movement or anti-imperialism. One can also see, maybe light at the end of the tunnel in aspects of  'Black Lives Matter,' the Fight for Fifteen, and other struggles connected to the daily, lived experience and practical needs of people.

Grass Roots

Lovably funky number from the ever-quirky Andrew Hill, a Chicago-born jazz pianist who bizarrely claimed to be born in Haiti. I have always appreciated Hill for his ability to bridge the gap between more 'out there' jazz and bop, a feat that I also admire in the work of Eric Dolphy. As a sideman, Hill has proven how talented he is as a composer for other artists, such as Bobby Hutcherson. Lee Morgan and Ron Carter round things out on this funky number, particularly Carter's walking bass. 

Stairway to the Stars

"Stairways to the Stars" is my favorite track from Gordon's Our Man in Paris, an album featuring Bud Powell. I must admit, I find Powell's playing in the 1960s sub-par compared to the heights he reached in the 1940s and 1950s, but this ballad works surprisingly well. Gordon, who is usually too tame for my tastes, excels on ballads and slow numbers with his characteristically suave style. Gordon's rendition of "A Night in Tunisia" is also a classic, though pales in comparison with Powell's trio recording with Max Roach on drums, which features a stronger 'Afro-Cuban' homage. No disrespect to Kenny Clarke intended, but I prefer Roach.