Although I will likely never see the Edward Norton film adaptation, seeing advertisements for it pushed me to finally read the novel. Despite seeing several students read Lethem's well-known detective novel in the past, I foolishly put off reading it for the foreseeable future. Now, several months after a mini-obsession with detective fiction, I have read it. The novel reads well as a quirky and post-modern take on the genre, featuring a protagonist suffering from Tourette's syndrome. His involuntary tics drive much of the novel, adding word play, comedic relief, and, in some cases, adding an ironic feel to successes and failures of Lionel Essrog. After the death of his father-figure, Frank Minna, who took on 4 orphans of Brooklyn ("motherless Brooklyn") as his detectives, Lionel, astray, does not know who to trust and is driven by the desire to find Minna's killer.
Of course, as a postmodern take on the genre, Lionel isn't truly a detective, but someone raised anachronistically by film, hard-boiled detective novels (references to Marlowe, Sam Spade, Bogart, Mike Hammer, Sherlock, Dick Tracy, and other sleuths abound), and the streets of Brooklyn. Along the course of his investigation, the Minna Men are nearly torn asunder by Frank's murder, and Lionel seems to accept his position as a 'stooge' of sorts whose tics disarm opponents into believing he is stupid. His background as an orphan and condition combine to, in a contradictory fashion, make him the best and worst detective on the case, which may explain why Lethem's novel was so well-received. Readers cannot help but feel sympathy for Lionel. The story also works because the novel takes the reader on a suspenseful journey across Brooklyn, Manhattan, and the coast of Maine while bringing "ethnic Brooklyn" to life.
Fans of pre-gentrification Brooklyn literature can see, feel, smell, and hear New York come to life as Irish, Italians, Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, Blacks, Jews, Arabs, and Korean shopkeepers define the social space. Manhattan wealth versus the other boroughs is also evident, with a degree of Brooklyn pride inescapable in Lionel. As a kind of underdog detective, Lionel, who battles a Polish Goliath, questions the Italian mob, and confronts a Japanese corporation with elements of Zen Buddhism (because capitalism and spiritual wisdom go hand in hand), almost resembles a Phildickian protagonist who is poised to battle with social, ontological, or metaphysical questions far beyond his pay scale. One cannot help but wonder if Lethem's earlier science fiction detective story is similar...
"Chinatown, My Chinatown" is another one of those gems of the Swing era recommended by Schuller. Coleman Hawkins and the other members announce swing before its official birth here in 1930, performing this older standard with an undeniable rhythmic pulse. One can see how a Benny Goodman would not exist if it were not for Fletcher Henderson.
I was looking forward to finally completing John Szwed's biography of Miles Davis. His biography of Sun Ra left a major mark on me, pushing me to listen extensively to the Arkestra nearly ten years ago. At the time, I was still lacking a deeper knowledge of the general trajectory of jazz, and reading about Sun Ra led me to challenge myself by exploring other avant-garde and free jazz artists. Szwed's Miles book, however, leaves less of an impression. Perhaps due to being more familiar with Miles and his large impact on jazz for almost half a century, some of the musical commentary or social commentary was less informative. Nevertheless, So What succeeds in relating Miles Davis to his time, introducing the reader to a litany of musical, literary and artistic figures of the 20th century Miles met, influenced, or was in turn shaped by, including Sartre, Cicely Tyson, Gil Evans, and a plethora of others. Szwed knows his discography, providing succinct and useful summary or analysis of various moments in the evolution of Miles as a musician from the 1940s to the 1990s.
Davis's background in Illinois, troubled relationship with drugs, abuse of women, and decaying health are not overlooked, either. In short, Szwed is sympathetic to his subject, but is objective enough to point out some of the failures or shortcomings of Davis's later studio albums of the 1980s. But some of his very shortcomings may also explain his greatness. His shyness is alleged to have caused him to play with his back to the audience, while his lack of strong or clear directions to members of his bands was part of a strategy of letting them stumble and make their own way. Davis's clear contributions to the development of various sub-genres of jazz, from cool to fusion, are explained in an accessible manner. Davis's social meaning, as a black musician perceived as arrogant, is parsed throughout the text. Davis, not unlike Mingus, seems to have relished a certain image of himself and his relationship to the music industry, American race relations embedded in every aspect. Davis could never escape race (despite thinking he could in his early trips to Paris), and suffering at the hands of bigoted cops certainly did not help.
Davis's relationship with Columbia also stands out as highly problematic. Miles was constantly asking for advances and loans from the record company, which profited handsomely from his work while Davis, whose lifestyle and luxurious consumption demanded more funds, had to fight tooth and nail with Columbia for records he wanted. Fortunately, and surprisingly for those who know little about the role of Teo Macero in Miles's music, his recordings with Columbia revolutionized music through innovative use of post-production editing, ambient sounds, and a creative use of electronic instruments for new textures. Like Szwed observes, there is a continuity in Miles, despite his efforts to always look ahead to the next aesthetic movement. For Miles, his muted trumpet, use of space, and willingness to let sidemen express their own individual styles seem consistent across his career. Even in his ailing later years, Miles endeavored to stay fresh, to try new ideas or concepts. He persistently sought to escape the limitations placed upon black musical artists, to escape the narrow confines of jazz as record labels sought to define it. But, like his idol Jack Johnson, he never let you forget he was black, despite his 'cool' style, the influence of Ravel, or his embrace of elements of rock (which was filtered through Hendrix, Sly Stone).
Foula's "Jouke" is one of the interesting examples of a fusion of Haitian roots music and jazz aesthetics. As a piece of fusion, there are elements of jazz, rock, and rasin for a musical stew demonstrating a fascinating example of jazz's influence on Haitian music. The skronk from a saxophonist, overwhelming polyrhythms, and electric guitar soar. Sadly, besides this and Ayizan, other attempts at a fusion of Haitian roots and jazz are fewer and less successful. Here's a video of a life performance by Foula.
The fictionalized autobiography of Charles Mingus is as fascinating as it is irritating. Since much of it is likely fictionalized or exaggerated (particularly the tales of pimping), it's a priceless testament to how a major figure in the history of jazz wanted to present his life story. Given the centrality of his attempts to display himself as a masculine figure, and the comparison of jazz musicians to prostitutes, Mingus unsurprisingly runs with the theme throughout the text. Jazz musicians, especially colored ones, are used and abused by the record labels, agents, critics, and club owners, mostly white. The black jazz musician is forced, by necessities of survival, to prostitute themselves, but their creativity and ability to support themselves is limited by their meager pay and the greater rewards to white jazz musicians. However, by becoming pimps and hustlers, black men were able to accumulate greater sums of cash than any honest work of the era available to them, and one presumes the various pimps (Billy Bones from Santo Domingo, a wealthy black pimp in San Francisco, included) provided an outlet for Mingus to reassert his manhood and dignity as an independent jazz musician. Yet, Mingus's ambiguous embrace of pimping and eventual abandonment of it suggests emotional growth.
The best aspects of this autrebiography are the plethora of details of life in Watts and Mingus's upbringing. In fact, most of the book is centered on his upbringing and early career in California (LA, San Francisco) instead of New York, the jazz capital. Mingus regales us with details of growing up in a very different Watts. There were still whites living in the area, as well as Japanese, Mexican, Chinese, and blacks. Central Ave had its fair share of jazz and entertainment. Mingus's family were of mixed-racial origins, but he was neither light enough nor dark enough to find acceptance. Thus, as a child, he turned inward and to music, until he discovered love and sex. Surprisingly, he does not dwell too much on his early musical career in LA, although his friendship with Buddy Collette and other local musicians clearly shaped him. Just as learning the harsh realities of racism in pre-Civil Rights Movement Watts taught him important lessons, Mingus chooses to delve into personal details of his various attempts at finding happy romance, including an elopement with Lee-Marie that ends in tragedy. In terms of the music, Mingus also alludes in his own way to other budding talent in 1930s and 1940s LA, such as Eric Dolphy, plus visiting luminaries from New York (Charlie Parker, Art Tatum). Whether or not most of these tales of neighborhood roughs, early Watts Towers, or fantastic sexual escapades truly occurred is not the point.
Unfortunately, for those eager to find more about Mingus's life once he permanently relocated to New York, Beneath the Underdog skips around chronologically. We learn of his time in Bellevue, plus some other additional experiences with the irrational Jim Crow of the South, but nothing like a detailed account of his musical evolution. For instance, his welcome party to New York City sounds almost certainly fictitious, with Charlie Parker, Monk, Leonard Feather and other prominent figures in the jazz world attending a party in a home "Donnalee" received for Mingus through their work as prostitutes. Here and there, Mingus hints at his self-perception as a composer who wants to surpass the limitations of the jazz world. This, I assume, is due to Mingus's Third Stream inclinations and desire to elevate the status of jazz beyond the Jim Crow music industry's needs. Strangely, Mingus leaves out his attempt to establish an artist collective label with Max Roach, although such an initiative definitely links with his desire to escape the confines of the white man's world and assert his dignity. Nonetheless, I would have loved to learn more about various recordings and club dates of Mingus at the time, as well as his relationships with Eric Dolphy, Roach, Donnie Richmond, and others in the 1950s and 1960s.
Ultimately, Mingus, who partitioned his being into at least 2 or 3 selves, and desired a raceless world, could never find solace from the squalid racial categories thrust upon him. While today his legacy as a composer and musician of the finest caliber is unquestioned, I am not certain how Mingus saw himself: as artist, man, composer, genius, pimp, black man, "racially ambiguous," or something else entirely? The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady? Corrupted by vices and pleasures, yet striving for something his faith and theistic belief encouraged? Is this representative of the jazz musician of the era, exploited, abused, underappreciated, ripped off, Jim Crowed, and creatively stifled? As Mingus allegedly explained to a British jazz critic, without the black jazz musician, none of the popular music of the world would be around today, but look at the conditions of life for jazz artists. Or, for that matter, the "underdogs" of the world, toiling at work unfit for humans, as Mingus states in reference to his brief attempt at skilled industrial labor in his youth. Perhaps the jazz musician was truly beneath the underdog.
Last but certainly not the least in this blog's series on immigration in Haiti, the Levantine presence warrants attention. While they continue to arouse the ire of some Haitians, often accused of selling out the country to the US, they are the products of the what is likely the largest wave of immigration to Haiti in the last century. Although estimates vary, perhaps 10,000 Syriens, mostly from Lebanon, were in Haiti by the early 1900s (Syrien being the general term for people of Levantine origin). Local newspapers of the era inflate the number to 15,000 or higher, but without reliable census figures, it was likely much smaller. Indeed, due to the animosity of Le Devoir and other Haitian newspapers in the early 1900s, it was likely in their interest to exaggerate the number of Syriens in Haiti to alarm the authorities. But assuming a lower estimate of, say, 3000 ca. 1910, which is Aubin's guess, remains a large foreign presence distributed in nearly every region of Haiti. Perhaps many or most of these waves of Syriens who came to Haiti between 1890-1915 left, relocating to New York, Mexico, Honduras, the Dominican Republic, and other destinations. Clearly, there were thousands of foreigners from the Levant operating in Haiti for at least some period in the 25 years preceding the first US Occupation.
Feminist Yvonne Hakim-Rimpel was the daughter of a Levantine, Eli Abdallah Hakim. Her sister made history as the first female dentist in Haiti.
In Anglophone scholarship, the best works on Levantines in Haiti are by Plummer and Nicholls. The former situates the growing economic power of Levantines within US economic interests in the Caribbean. In short, the Syriens were supported by the US, which sought to supplant Germany and France in Haiti and ensure the Caribbean remained an American lake. Nicholls, on the other hand, compares the Levantines of Haiti with their kin residing in other Caribbean nations. He uses a comparative approach to reach some conclusions about the nature of social relations, national identity, and assimilation in Haiti, Jamaica, Trinidad and the Dominican Republic through the incorporation or non-incorporation of Levantines in each aforementioned nation. At times, one questions the reasoning of Nicholls for some of his conclusions, especially since anti-Syrien sentiment or policy were present in places where Levantines were assimilable, including Jamaica and the DR. However, Nicholls is probably on to something. For instance, discussions with Haitians or a quick perusal of Haitian social media do suggest that the Syrien has still not quite been accepted as a Haitian. Additional scholarship in English is difficult to come by, although references to Levantines abound in the literature on the US Occupation, commerce, or the biography of Issa El Saieh. Indeed, Mats Lundahl and Louis Carl Saint Jean's study of Issa El Saieh is a priceless source for information about a prominent Haitian of Arab descent. It explains his Palestinian roots, chain migration from the Levant, his mother's success as a businesswoman, and the ambiguous status of Syrians for much of his life, and El Saieh's role in Haitian music and art.
Issa El Saieh, born in Petit-Goave to Palestinian parents, led an important band which fused jazz elements with Haitian music. He was immortalized by Graham Greene in The Comedians.
Part of an article from the 17 Avril 1902 issue of Le Devoir, one of the most consistently anti-Syrien newspapers in Port-au-Prince. Le Devoir was an ardent supporter of the anti-Syrien campaign.
So, where does one begin with tracing the origins of Levantine migration to Haiti? In Lebanon, Syria, and Palestine of the late 19th century, religious persecution and other factors triggered migration to the Americas. These Arabs, mostly Christians with a few Jews among them, were from various villages of Lebanon, Palestine, and Syria, and many brought their families or relatives with them (or sent for them later, often becoming transnational across the Caribbean region). Haiti, along with other parts of Latin America and the Caribbean, received thousands of migrants from the Levant during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. One of the reasons Haiti may have received 10,000 or more during the period 1890-1915 is the relaxed attitude of Haitian authorities with regard to documents. Gonzalez's Dollar, Dove, and Eagle: One Hundred Years of Palestinian Migration to Honduras suggests this may be the reason Haiti was a popular first destination for Levantines coming to the Americas. It also may explain why the population lacked any formal institutions or organizations, since many were only in Haiti for a short period (in addition to official policy discriminating against Syriens after 1903).
Interior of the dry goods store owned by Antoine Moussa Talamas in Port-au-Prince. Founded in 1910, a brief description can be found in Haïti, 1919-1920, livre bleu d'Haïti, blue book of Hayti. This Talamas was the grandfather of Issa El Saieh, showing the familial and economic links that bound together various Syrien-owned firms.
Due to repression, looting, and groups like the Anti-Syrien Association, which was formed under Leconte and verified the documents of Syriens, the early Levantine migrants lacked an official association or institution. With the exception of a single restaurant, according to Aubin, they lacked any formal organization which represented them collectively. Since they claimed a variety of nationalities, Syriens could attempt to use French or US citizenship and appeal to those consuls for protection, which they would need. The resentment of the local retailers and traders, foreign merchants, and, to a certain extent, the popular classes in Haitian towns, must have made the initial experience of Levantines a difficult one to endure. According to Camille Devereux, a cocoa exporter interviewed by The New York Times in 1904 after looting destroyed 3 Syrian shops in Arcahaie, their lifestyle, foreign origins, unhealthy living arrangements, and obsession with making money distinguished them as a problem. Other sources from this era cited by Nicholls also indicate the common perception that the Syrien raised revenue for their families back in the Levant, not investing locally or contributing to national development and industry. Le Devoir compared the situation to that of Argentina, where similar legislation against Syriens were instituted. Unlike other foreigners in Haiti, such as Cubans, who taught valuable skills and often married local women, or Germans who invested in railroads and small-scale industry, the Syrian was accused of parasitism. Indeed, Haiti was not alone in attempting to prohibit Levantine immigration or restrict their commercial activities.
An article from La Ruche also displays anti-Syrien sentiment with regard to corruption and the gros bourgeois during the 1940s. Syriens like Bouez and non-Levantine wealthy businessmen like Oswald Brandt were beneficiaries of Lescot's corrupt administration.
Things begin to improve for Levantines after 1915. The US Occupation completed Haiti's orientation to US finance, industry, and investment, which assisted Syriens who were already tied to US manufacturers or used their networks in New York to buy and sell US goods in Haiti. In 1920, the Syrien community established a formal organization of around 40 members, Club Commercial Syrien, which hosted balls, engaged in charity work, and pursued, as the name would suggest, commercial interests. Members of the organization in the 1920s and 1930s included many of the well-known Levantine families in Haiti: Gebara, Boulos Sada, Shemtob, Bigio. They also hosted Syrian cultural events, bringing speakers such as Habib Estefano to Haiti and promoting Syrian music and culture. Their economic power is also attested by receptions they held for visiting dignitaries, including Horacio Vasquez and Rafael Trujillo of the Dominican Republic. A few, such as the Gebara brothers, launched a cigarette factory with Pantaleon Guilbaud, perhaps one of the first examples of Syrien Haitians investing in industry or manufacturing. These developments suggest a degree of stability for Levantines, as well as attempts to secure their position as well as retain or expand on their connections with other Lebanese, Syrian, and Palestinian groups in the hemisphere. Unfortunately, they do not appear to have established a newspaper, like their counterparts in the Dominican Republic and elsewhere, but a formal organization like the Club Commercial Syrien and their growing economic clout suggest a degree of permanence. Indeed, the Syrian "colony" were one of the groups who petitioned the US to prolong the military occupation.
President Leconte was especially supportive of discriminatory policy against Syriens in Haiti.
However, resistance to the US Occupation brought with it noirism, Haitian indigenist affirmation of African-derived culture, the salient "color question," and suspicion of groups perceived as pro-US. The Syriens appear to have become targets under Vincent, since Syrian immigration was banned in 1931. Vincent also promoted a return of Haitians to commerce de detail, one of the things Surprise Jazz's ochan for the president in 1936 praised him for accomplishing. Yet by the 1940s, some Syriens, like Bouez, were able to amass fortunes under Lescot, which likely explains why Levantines were targeted by some of the leftists and radicals in 1946. Undoubtedly, some Syrien families, like their counterparts among the Haitian bourgeoisie and other foreign residents, were corrupt and venal, but political corruption, graft, bribery, and violence were never restricted to Haitians of Arab origin. Of course, for some Haitian leftists critical of the anti-national bourgeoisie, or others eager to find a scapegoat, Levantines were the perfect group to blame for the ills of modern Haiti.
Ironically, only under Duvalier were Syriens to enter politics as officials. Under Francois Duvalier, a Haitiano-Arabe Club was founded, albeit from above and perhaps not representative of Syriens in any form. Indeed, Nicholls found in his interviews that Syriens who entered politics under Duvalier were the exception. Considering their undeniable economic clout by this time, many were likely used by Duvalier for sources of funds and a few opportunistic ones had no qualms with serving him. Later, by the 1970s, the rise of sweatshops also led to some Levantines founding factories in the 1970s and 1980s, under Jean-Claude Duvalier. But, like others, the Syriens were also targeted by Duvalierist violence, as the case of Issa El Saieh's imprisonment demonstrates. As a group with business interests, they may have preferred a Dejoie over Duvalier, but the stability of the dictatorship may have won some of them over.
A beautiful song named after the Boutilliers restaurant of Elias Noustas.
So, what was the impact of the Syro-Libanais in Haiti? After providing a brief sketch above of their history in Haiti, it is clearly tied to commerce, shifting geopolitics of the US in the Caribbean region, and Haitian economic dependency. As an unfamiliar "Oriental" group of the early 1900s, they sparked considerable discontent upon their arrival in a country whose local retailers and merchants were experiencing a decline from Europeans who gradually gained the upper hand. As illustrated by scholars like Michel Rolph-Trouillot, Haiti's economy had long been dominated by foreigners. After 1915, however, instead of French or German domination, the US, particularly through earlier Syrien intermediaries, became the clear hegemonic force. The question of Syriens is also intimately tied to the question of Haitian national identity. As they are neither European nor are they (usually) of African descent, Levantines were an "Other" whose assimilation (or non-assimilation) may reveal something of significance in Haitian national identity.
The visit of Habib Estefano to Haiti in the 1920s may indicate how Syriens saw themselves in relation to Latin America and the broader Syro-Lebanese diaspora.
That someone of Levantine descent, like Issa El Saieh, became such a major figure in mid-20th century Haitian music, while also openly embracing elements of popular culture, folklore and Vodou in his band, suggests a great degree of assimilation. Certainly, Issa El Saieh himself, who preferred to speak Creole and English over French (which he associated with the "mulatto" elite), knew of his insider-outsider status. His prominence in Haitian arts is also worth mentioning, as he supported a number of Haitian painters while selling their works through his gallery. Another example, Habib the Syrian in Alexis's In the Flicker of an Eyelid, is ambiguous politically. One does not know who he will support, but like the other Haitian social classes, he has a presence in the Port-au-Prince brothel. Habib is undeniably Haitian, but what kind of Haitian? If one subscribes to the Leyburn thesis, perhaps the Syrien is just an outsider to the Haitian color-caste hierarchy. But the complexity, nuance, and fluid social relations, one which likely assisted the Levantines in their social ascent, makes this less plausible. Particularly under the Duvalier dictatorship and later periods, a degree of intermarriage, business interests, and political goals unite Syriens with their black or "mulatto" peers of similar status or wealth.
"Boricua" is one of the interesting early attempts by Astor Piazzolla to fuse tango and jazz in a Jazz-Tango quintet.. As the title of the piece suggests, this early crossover attempt involved instrumentation typically associated with the Cuban and Puerto Rican influences in Latin jazz. Jason Borge mentions it as an interesting piece, and it certainly is. Perhaps one of the few from this group that is worth hearing.
