Patacon Pisao

Joe Arroyo would be proud. Much better than Johnny Ventura's version, though I consider myself a light fan of Ventura's merengue. Cartagena is calling. 

Creative Conflict in African American Thought

"Douglass may be claimed by nationalists like Molefi K. Asante as a symbol of militant black messianism, or by George Will as a representative of some vaguely imagined, and yet to be glimpsed, color-blind society. Perhaps one reason for our continuing fascination with Douglass is the amorphous quality of his symbolism. He seems to encompass the continuing ambivalence of black men in America with respect to many issues, including separatism, integration, Afrocentrism, Eurocentrism, and male-female relationships."

Wilson Jeremiah Moses is now one of my favorite historians. A specialist on black nationalism and African-American intellectual history, Moses is blessed with a great wit and accessible style that articulates how and why African-American history, black nationalism, and philosophy matters. Both of these two aforementioned strengths are part of Creative Conflict in African American Thought. Indeed, by placing Frederick Douglass, Alexander Crummell, Du Bois, and Garvey into a broader realm of US, European, and African thought, one sees the importance and innovative character of their ideas and contradictions. Instead of confining these black historical figures to the intellectual ghetto, Moses excels in depicting their contradictory ideas and relationship with the intellectual waves in Europe and the United States. One cannot understand Du Bois without Hegelian idealism, nor can one understand Crummell without understanding Hamilton and the Cambridge idealists. 

Even Booker T. Washington comes out of this as a far more complex and intriguing figure in black history and thought, possibly predating Weber and other white writers on issues related to religion, Protestantism, and wealth. Moreover, by emphasizing the internal contradictions and competing ideas entertained by these intellectuals at various moments in their lives, the reader gains a deeper understanding of black nationalism and pan-Africanism. In fact, the nuances of their contradictions actually ameliorate some of the rather disturbing trends of black nationalism, such as the authoritarian collectivism mentioned in Moses's Golden Age of Black Nationalism. Seeing the parallels of Christian redemption, Eurocentrism, Afrocentrism, and fundamentally undemocratic political ideals expressed by a variety of writers from Liberia, Sierra Leone, Jamaica (Garvey), and the US invalidates quick conclusions on New World black nationalists in relation to Africa. 

As for the above video, it's only relevant to one section of the text, a few chapters on the amazing bundle of contradictions encompassed by Frederick Douglass. Racial spokesman, amalgamationist, abolitionist, opponent of black emigrationism, proponent of Afrocentrism or racial mysticism connecting blacks with Egypt, Frederick Douglass's life is far more engaging than the deified narrative ingrained into our heads through Black History Month specials. In a sense, the decision of Moses to embrace the messy contradictions of these prominent African-Americans is reminiscent of Roxane Gay's Bad Feminist, as well as a challenge to some of the easy or misguided interpretations on the left and the right. 

Jazz, Coltrane, Sanders, Lorca

Epic tribute to John Coltrane's "Ole," itself based on "El Quinto Regimiento," a song of the Spanish Civil War derived from earlier Andalusian folk music. As for the link to Lorca, we must remember the Spanish poet's dedication to the music and folklore of al-Andalus. Although I prefer McCoy Tyner's style over William Henderson, Sanders and Idris Muhammad are on fire in this performance.

The Trouble With Diversity

"...when the problem is inequality, the solution is identity."

As someone familiar with like-minded viewpoints of Walter Benn Michaels on diversity, neoliberalism, economic inequality, and race, reading The Trouble with Diversity was not only informative, but complementary to Adolph Reed's work. Indeed, Michaels shares a similar penchant for excellent one-liners, sarcasm, and surprisingly fitting sense of humor with Reed. All of the issues raised by Michaels are legitimate on race, class, economic inequality, fighting neoliberalism, and the ways in which our love of diversity and antiracism can be easily coopted by or manipulated by the forces of neoliberalism. Indeed, the author's provocative argument that the left has helped the right in allowing the diversity discourse to shift the center of attention to race or gender or indigeneity over the fundamental problem of growing inequality is a heavy charge, especially in light of the ongoing #Oscarssowhite controversy, as if more black and brown faces receiving meaningless statues is going to shape or change the material conditions of the poor, like those poisoned by the state of Michigan. 

More interesting and relevant to the relatively recent student protests regarding racism on college campuses, the ease in which whites can use the language of multiculturalism, diversity, or identitarianism to support ideas like "white student unions" is another challenge that should seriously make one question some of the central ideas of culture, race, identity, privilege that are so prevalent or even acceptable to the neoliberal turn. Michaels examines this tendency among Christian fundamentalists, for instance, to argue that they are victims of discrimination. The infamous Kim Davis exemplifies this trend, too, and should suggest we need to move away from identity or culture (which is used interchangeably with race, despite all the talk of race as lacking any scientific meaning or the obvious observation that the very idea of black, white or Jewish "culture" is not written in stone or unchanging) and the discourse which can be appropriated by those with regressive social and political views. The focus on "identity" and "culture" is flexible enough to encompass the Kim Davis's and Deray McKessons of the world. 

Furthermore, the author's bold assertions on attempts to make class the equivalent of race or gender as misguided and anti-left is worth hearing out. Michaels does not reject the possibility of working-class or poor people producing great literature or art, but is, I think, right to say attempts to highlight the deprivation and exploitation of the poor is not an attack on their "agency," but a realist perspective that wants to remove the obstacles to economic equality, an equality of outcomes that will ensure the poor and working-class will not experience the deprivation that leaves most unable to access the higher living standards, representation, and benefits of middle-class and elite Americans. Hence, the talk of classism as disrespect or sneering at the poor and disadvantaged, does not address the fundamental issue of growing class disparities. Yes, we should not look down upon those who are less fortunate, but ending the conversation there does nothing to change their conditions. The culture of the poor, maligned by the myth of the underclass, as elucidated by Adolph Reed, will not save them, and neither will attempts to valorize or romanticize the poor. As mentioned in the text, this is particularly relevant to some of the fixation on "indigenous" cultures and languages, as if languages or cultures are eternal and an indigenous or Latin American peasant identity is always anti-capitalist, anti-globalization, or socialist, or all cultures are equal. In short, Michaels has written a book that is bound to stir debate, especially today. 

Time Out of Joint

"Word doesn't represent reality. Word is reality. For us, anyhow. Maybe God gets to objects. Not us, though."

Time Out of Joint is, because of its premise, quite similar to A Maze of Death. Unlike the latter, with its religious themes, Time out of Joint toys with idealism, the ideas of Bishop Berkeley, colonization of the Moon, and the typical dystopic political regime in which nothing is as it seems. Intriguing for science fiction, the reader is treated to a lovingly "fake" world of the 1950s: a world of Cold War fears, Marilyn Monroes, the growth of television (the Nielsons may be named after the Nielsen rating?), and the birth of the teenager. Naturally, California liberals and other subcultures are alluded to as well, making for intriguing reading material about the decade. The "fake" reality of 1959 of this novel is a nice tribute to a decade falsely romanticized by so many. 

The World Jones Made

He didn't need Jones' talent to see it. The new religion. The crucified god, slain for the glory of man. Certain to reappear, someday; a death not in vain. Temples, myths, sacred texts. Relativism wasn't coming back in, not in this world. Not after this."

Well, Dick's early novel is certainly intriguing. Set in the early 21st century after a disastrous war, the story takes place in a world where a precog named Jones uses his ability to know the future to unseat the Fedgov government which has enshrined Relativism as a value in all aspects of human life. This world government also manages to use forced labor camps, mutants created as a result of the past war perform at circuses, and there's questionable transphobic depictions of "hermaphrodites" in seedy nightclub establishments who will switch genders in the middle of intercourse. I actually think this was weaker than Solar Lottery, although this novel features alien life, settlers on Venus, and a critique of relativism and moral absolutism. His first published novel featured a more suspenseful "action scene" than the assassinations here, but shares with the former some of the future themes Dick obsessively explored throughout his fiction. The experimentation on humans, "myth" of Jones and the doctrine of Relativism propagated by the government are excellent examples of Dick's interest in ethics and metaphysics, perhaps pushing back against the proliferation of relativism in postmodernist discourse?

Solar Lottery

Philip K. DIck's first novel, and it shows. Some great ideas, but missing in detail and prose to carry the story. I think its successful in that the reader has to finish it to find out what's going on with John Preston (an allusion to the old Prester John myths of medieval Europe?), but that subplot is given the short end of the stick. Dick also could have used more detail or even additional minor characters to round out the ensemble and create a fuller world. That said, the "assassination" chapter works quite well, illustrating Dick's talent for depicting action. Indeed, it brought to mind parts of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep and subsequent novels. 

I liked the telepathy, androids, dystopic society, determinism vs. free will, social commentary via imagined 23rd century of fuedalism, and the idea of mathematics/M-Game and the bottle determining everything. I wonder if, considering the captain of the ship, Groves, is black, and the 'unks' are at the bottom of this horrible regime Benteley is determined to change, is this novel also hinting at the rising mainstream attention to the burgeoning Civil Rights Movement after the ongoing Montgomery Boycott, as well as the Bandung Conference and decolonisation in the Global South. I recall some of Dick's novels in the 1960s offer some witty and perhaps exasperated emotions toward the newly independent countries in the distant future, but Dick offers a rather optimistic or hopeful view of humanity through Benteley and a rather dismal take on religion or allegiance to individuals elsewhere here.

I will have to read more about game theory and zero-sum to properly understand the dynamics of the novel, too, yet it seems like another avenue for Dick to explore fate like the I Ching in The Man in the High Castle. The prisoner's dilemma is about the only scenario I am familiar with, which is all over the conflict or stalemate between Reese and Cartwright over what to do with Bentelely on Luna. Very interesting novel, but, as mentioned above, not technically his best writing, I think. 

Knocking The Hustle

Finally read Lester Spence's Knocking the Hustle: Against the Neoliberal Turn in Black Politics. It's short, provocative, and manages to offer some much needed perspective on Cornel West, the need to reorient or renew black politics, and provides a backdrop to the growth of neoliberalism in the last few decades. Expounding on the prosperity gospel, growing income inequality, anti-neoliberal and progressive solutions and politics, Spence's brief book gives the reader important counterbalance to the proliferation of neoliberal values in much of US and black popular culture and institutions. Unfortunately, much of Spence's critique of West was already hinted at by Adolph Reed as early as 1986, and again in the classic, "What Are the Drums Saying, Booker?" However, one can appreciate Spence for developing a lengthier critique of the dangers of Cornel West's "black nihilism" and emphasis on the "black prophetic tradition" and morality rather than politics itself. And to trace it back to the elitist mindset of the DuBois of "The Talented Tenth" is bound to raise debate! As for the other main target of this work, David Harvey's text on neoliberalism, I think Spence comes up short. Besides reasserting the rather obvious fact that racial discrimination and attitudes still influence public opinion in ways that reinforce privatization, I do not think Spence succeeds in offering anything new or earth-shattering about neoliberalism and race. Of course, I have not read Harvey's book, so there definitely is something I am likely overseeing or missed completely.

As for other issues, Spence's book is perhaps too premature in its praise of Black Lives Matter as an attack on neoliberalism. Sure, in some cases and cities, Black Lives Matter and its crossover with the Fight for Fifteen can be construed as an attack on neoliberalism, but the rise of a younger generation of what Adolph Reed termed the "protest elites" in black politics could be forcing itself into mainstream black politics through non-profit connections, ties to Teach for America, and the progressive rhetoric of the Black Lives Matter network. I certainly hope not, but it is troubling to say the least how TFA connections among leading figures in the incipient movement is left out of any discussion in Spence's final chapter on solutions, despite his strong critiques of the corporate education reform movement. Fortunately, the author's avoids some common traps in political studies on youth, for he acknowledges the limitations of youth organizing and activism, avoiding a dangerous trend Adolph Reed has written about as well.

Ojos de Gato

On a journey to discover the best of Paul Bley's music. Rest in peace, jazz legend. 

Sarah Vaughan's Lover Man

Enthralling version of jazz standard "Lover Man." Although I am not a big fan of vocal jazz, Sarah Vaughan will always find room my heart for her artistry with the human voice. Vaughan's "Misty" remains my favorite vocal jazz piece, but this is also up there for me. 

Now Wait For Last Year

Now Wait For Last Year reviewed by The Sci-Fi Christian. Not my favorite of Dick's novels, and somewhat too similar to Three Stigmata, except this time the aliens appear in the novel. Otherwise, it's very similar: drugs, alien threat, playing with the nature of reality, settlers on Mars, time travel and hallucination, Dick's own lady troubles likely influencing his female characters, ethics, ersatz versions of "real" objects or persons and a supreme-like being, Gino Molinari in this novel. The alien race at war with Terra, the reegs, are ant-like, bringing to mind Ender's Game, and the dangerous Starmen are actually related to humans but cannot be trusted, bringing to mind the alliance between Japan and Germany in the alternative history, The Man In the High Castle. This is not to suggest there is nothing worthwhile in the book, but it does not exactly tread new ground for the author, although it was interesting read the California writer's 21st century predictions for Tijuana. Considering how much of a failure Eric and Kathy's relationship is, yet they're inevitably bound to one another, leads one to wonder what Dick's marriage status was at the time of its writing, too. 

The Golden Age of Black Nationalism, 1850-1925

"Black nationalism assumes the shape of its container and undergoes transformations in accordance with changing intellectual fashions in the white world."

As someone with a casual interest in African-American politics, history, and black nationalist "fringe" organizations such as the Moorish Science Temple, the Five Percenters, the Nation of Islam, and Malachi York's various outfits, and the black women club movement, I have long heard about Wilson Jeremiah Moses and his lauded work on black nationalism. The Golden Age of Black Nationalism, 1850-1925 lives up to the hype. Everything that ties together Rastafarianism, Pan-Africanism, the "authoritarian collectivism" of Farrakhan, allegedly fascist tendencies of Garveyism, and black emigrationism is explained quite succinctly by Moses. The Ethiopianism strand of thought in African-American Christianity infuses all forms of black nationalism examined by Moses, and clearly has lived on despite the Islamic veneer of the Moors and Nation of Islam. All of these things, also explained in an interview by Cedric Johnson as black nationalism reflecting dominant trends in European philosophy and science of the time, prove beyond a doubt that black nationalism, black separatism, and notions of black identity cannot be understood as existing in a vacuum. 

Like the Haitian elite intellectuals who turned to folk culture under US Occupation, US African Americans turned to an embrace of the black lower classes around the time of the Harlem Renaissance, both cases indicating how shifting European opinion on the superiority of Western civilization led to primitivist phases and likely pressured Haitian and African-American intellectuals to embrace aspects of the lower classes and their culture, often based on essentialized notions of race and "blackness" in the case of African-Americans. Indeed, Moses book is Pan-African in scope, including West Indian and African black nationalists like Blyden and Garvey in his analysis, although Haiti or Latin American black nationalism is neglected, for the most part. 

More disturbing of an enlightening experience, Moses argues that James Theodore Holly, drawing on messianic and 'Anglo-African' Protestant black nationalism, believed African-Americans were necessary to guide Haiti to progress, much like Crummell, Garvey, and many more US black nationalists espoused a rather condescending vision of Africa and believed in their own role to improve or civilize Africa. These aspects of black nationalism, authoritarian collectivism, imperialism, and elitism, survive in varying forms today, but clearly illustrate some of the inherent problems with transnational black collaboration in the past. For instance, I always viewed Holly as a positive example of African-American solidarity with Haiti, but the religious, ethnic, and class biases of African-American black nationalists who ventured to the Caribbean or West Africa certainly poke holes in Pan-Africanism. Perhaps sentiment and skin color alone cannot forge meaningful politics or solidarity, certainly not any of the black nationalism modalities as defined by Moses. In addition to these problematic aspects of black nationalist projects of the 19th and early 20 centuries, troubling and religious understandings of black poverty and black family structure essentially paved the way for E. Franklin Frazier and Moynihan's troubling conclusions on the black family and black women, another indication that black nationalism is not, as Moses writes, invariably leftist or progressive. 

Paul Bley's Ramblin

Just heard of the recent passing of Paul Bley. Though more a fan of Carla Bley for her work with the Liberation Music Orchestra project launched by Haden, this is still a great loss to jazz. Here is a lovely recording of Ornette Coleman's "Ramblin" by Paul Bley. 

Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said

"Buckman walked toward the black man. The black man did not retreat; he stood where he was. Buckman reached him, held out his arms and seized the black man, enfolded him in them, and hugged him. The black man grunted in surprise. And dismay. Neither man said anything. They stood for an instant and then Buckman let the black man go, turned, walked shakingly back to his quibble."

Philip K. Dick's Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said is set in 1984, four years after the totalitarian world of 1984. A dystopic future in which the world is dominated by a police-state, revolutionary students living underground are under attack, most blacks are sterilized and dying off, and rest of society consists of a small elite, a select number of "evolved" people (sixes), and "ordinaries." In some ways, Dick's dystopic future 1988 was not that different from the 1960s and 1970s of his time, with a "racial" problem, divisions of class, totalitarian governments, student movements of 1968, and a counterculture, including LGBT activism (Dick has a penchant for lesbians, perhaps). Like Dick's other fiction, metaphysics and the two obsessions of his, what is being and what makes an authentic human, are the themes waxed upon here. Unfortunately, none of the central characters are likable or redeemable and the writing is, well, not technically the best. I think Dick's prose and dialogue is better written here than in, say, Maze of Death, and the idea of a celebrity waking up one day in a world in which his existence is wiped out is unique, and again we see drugs and mind-altering substances as central to Dick's work, matching the idea presented in Dick's 1978 lecture on reality as limited to the individual, yet intersecting as our perceptive realities converge. 

Of course, Dick's interest in race and hints at his growing religiosity abounds here. Most significantly is the beautifully written scene in which Buckman, the Police General willing to let an innocent man die in order to protect his own position, in a moment of utter vulnerability, connects emotionally with a black man at a gas station. Moments like this, evoking the the tale of the Ethiopian eunuch who converts to Christianity, where differences as extreme as race in a profoundly unequal society, are overcome, albeit briefly, point to an ethic of universal salvation, of being willing to love, like Ruth, a former girlfriend of Jason Taverner, at the point of great risk and grief. As someone who reads the tale of the Ethiopian eunuch along the lines of Byron's suggestive text on early Christianity and color symbolism, Dick is challenging the racist assumptions of our own "reality," which makes up for his questionable or condescending descriptions of women in the work. Sure, Dick may have been part of a disrespected and largely white male circle of science fiction writers, but on the "Negro problem," more progressive than one would assume. 

Glorified Calypso

Ware's moving tribute to Sonny Rollins, who helped popularize calypso in the jazz idiom, is new to me but worthwhile. The drummer on this track is actually reminiscent of the rhythms on Joe Henderson's "Caribbean Fire Dance," but still a lovely tribute to a 'colossus' of jazz. 

Free Jazz

Classic jazz from Ornette Coleman, featuring jazz legends like Eric Dolphy and more. What I love about Ornette is his attention to melody, and a bluesy roots sound which he never totally abandoned. This type of free jazz and improvisation is, in my opinion, among the better output of the 'movement.' Plus, Eric Dolphy, my favorite alto sax player who embodies the transition from bop to free jazz, leaves his mark here. 

An Island Is A World

“Foster looked about him, a strange emotion in his heart. He was one of them, and yet he couldn’t feel the way they did, nor share in the kinship they knew. They were going back home. They had a home. It was far away, but they hadn’t forgotten. When they had come to Trinidad they kept some of India hidden in their hearts. They had tried to live in Trinidad as they had lived in India, with their own customs and religion, shutting out the influences of the west. They had built their temples and taught their children the language of the motherland. They had something to return to, they had a country.”

Selvon's second novel, An Island is a World, actually helps explain his first and third novels, particularly his time in London as an influence on The Lonely Londoners. Ramchand's excellent introduction to the novel explains how autobiographical this novel is, so Selvon's relationship with his brother, his service in World War II, and experiences with West Indians in the "Mother Country" shed light on Selvon's personal experiences influencing his fiction. Telling the story of Foster and his brother, Rufus, the novel moves back and forth between the connected families and shifts in setting from Trinidad to London and America, while expressing a certain malaise, as Naipaul said, about the state of the West Indies in the 1950s, colonialism, and the Federation. Per usual, one respects and adores the interracial friendships and relationships, and a deep identification with the island of Trinidad in Selvon's work. Much like Selvon, Foster, though descending from indentured Indians, identifies with Trinidad and its Creole multiracial makeup, and along the way this process of Foster (Selvon) to make sense out of life, experiencing racial prejudice in England, and find a way to make it through the monotony or routine of life in London and Trinidad. 

Foster, Rufus, Father and Foster's best friend, Andrews, share similar views on Trinidadian society, the political and social problems, the seemingly inevitable dissolution of Federation, and the rather low status accorded to the West Indies by visiting sailors or seamen from the US and England. Much like Adrian in I Hear Thunder, despite Selvon's undeniable expression of faith in Trinidad as a nation capable of encompassing all of its inhabitants, one can sense the author's lingering fears about the political corruption or lack of meaning in life beyond pleasure, although there is some optimism in this work. In this constant shifting of identity and gradual acceptance of the island as a full world, Selvon also brings to mind fiction by the Naipaul brothers. Indeed, Fireflies came to mind more than once given both novel's tragicomedy aspects, depiction of Trinidad, dysfunctional relationships, and the struggle over its "smallness" or alleged insignificance. Like the Naipaul brothers, Selvon excels writing, with a keen eye for humor, intricate family or personal ties in apparently dysfunctional families, an excellent example from this novel being Johnny's constant state of drunken stupor but finding solace in his grandson, despite attempts to hide his feelings for the child. 

In comparison to other Selvon novels, this one is a little lacking in the level of humor one comes to expect. Moreover, there are clunky sentences or missing pronouns here and there, though the combination of Trinidadian vernacular, occasional moments of comedic relief from rather depressing scenarios in which the characters find themselves, and excessive philosophizing on religion and being prove interesting for those who care to delve deeper into Trinidadian history, politics, or colonialism. Furthermore, as an early Selvon novel and part of the flourishing postwar Anglophone Caribbean literature, the novel was prescient on the failure of Federation and a careful nationalist text with a beaming example of the colonial politician, Andrews.