|
Books by Jerry W. Ward Jr.
Trouble the Water
(1997) /
Black Southern Voices (1992) /
The Richard Wright Encyclopedia (2008) /
The Katrina Papers
* * * *
*
China II Report
June
4-19, 2010
By Jerry W. Ward
Jr.
We would talk very differently about international
affairs if the history of the world were told from the
perspective of China. A trip from
Wuhan to Warsaw would
land one in the wild Far West not in Eastern Europe or a
trip from Nanjing
to Los Angeles would be a journey to
the Far East. Perhaps so radical a reorientation might
help us to understand why the People’s Republic of China
(PRC) is poised to become the world’s leading Communist
capitalist nation and to provide us with a forecast of
how the twenty-first century shall be an age of
permanent contradictions. It is doubtful that any of
the nominal democracies of the world will absorb the
lessons China is teaching. It is my impression,
however, that the world will learn to respect both
China’s achievements and its inevitable mistakes.
I deliberately did not write a China I report
about my visit to Wuhan, December 15-20, 2009, because
it would have been a naïve exercise. Then I knew only
one person in the PRC, and my purpose was limited to
seeing how an ancient country was becoming ultramodern.
Knowing now more Chinese colleagues from various
universities and having a definite purpose for having
conversations with them, I can be less romantic and more
dispassionate. My purpose in June 2010 was to have
face-to-face exchanges regarding the history and
continuing developments in African American literature
and culture, because these explorations of knowledge can
be mutually rewarding. The Chinese intellectuals could
use the information I might offer to wipe away illusions
about African American culture and the myth of the
post-racial; likewise, I could acquire more knowledge
about diversity among the Chinese people and the
tensions between the new and the old in Chinese
society. The second visit was an opportunity to see a
bittersweet future.
Some of my American friends ask: “What do the Chinese
think of black people?” I have not made a rigorous
study of attitudes about race in China and, therefore,
have insufficient grounds for an answer. I resort to
the disingenuous and irony-laden reply: “If they think
of black people at all, they think less of them than do
white Americans.” The English-speaking Chinese with whom
I have had exceptionally satisfying conversations about
African American cultures treated me with great respect
and courtesy. They may have profound disdain for people
of African descent, including Chinese citizens who have
one African or African American parent, because
globalization has made racism endemic. Chinese
neo-colonial enterprises in various African countries
may sponsor an increase in outbursts of racism. At the
personal level, I have experienced no more racism in
Wuhan,
Nanjing, and
Beijing than I encounter in New
Orleans, Boston, and Portland, Oregon. Obviously, I
can’t hear in Chinese what makes me angry in English. My
dealings with the Chinese focus on the acquisition of
knowledge and scholarly collaboration rather than
exclusively on the problematic of ethnicity and race.
If I were Jonathan Swift’s character Gulliver, I would
affirm that my dealings with the Chinese are more civil
than my dealings with my fellow Americans.
During my first visit in December 2009, I presented a
keynote address—“On the Study of African American
Literature: The Obligation of Literary History”—for the
Symposium on African American Literature at Central
China Normal University (CCNU). The rich series of
follow-up emails with my Chinese colleagues and requests
from some of them to write commentary on their
works-in-progress inspired me to strengthen my links
with people who are studying African American
literature. I gladly accepted invitations from CCNU (Wuhan),
Nanjing University and Nanjing University of
Telecommunications and Post, and Beijing International
Studies University to visit in June 2010. I prepared
four special lectures (See Appendix A) and flew to Wuhan
on June 4-5.
John Zheng, Professor of English, editor of Valley
Voices at Mississippi Valley State University and a
Fulbright Fellow, had made my December visit possible,
and I took pleasure in returning to Wuhan, his
birthplace. With a population of slightly above seven
million people, extraordinarily dense traffic, heavy
pollution, the ubiquity of McDonald’s and KFC, bold ads
for the latest sleek European fashions, and vigorous
building efforts, Wuhan is a model of what rampant
urbanization is bringing to modern China. The ancient,
much-beloved Yellow Crane Tower overlooks the more
recent military installation (Memorial of Wucheng
Uprising, 1911 Revolution), and these treasures of
memory must coexist with smog-shrouded and dismal modern
architecture. One senses a reenactment of the rise of
the American city. There is reason to fear that Wuhan
will experience an abnormal growth of urban problems.
The Chinese are not oblivious to what is happening.
They are just powerless to stop the flattening and
fundamental shifts occurring world-wide. See Thomas L.
Friedman’s speculative
The World Is Flat: A Brief History of the
Twenty-first Century (Farrar,
Straus and Giroux, 2006) for enlightening comments.
As I traveled in various parts of Wuhan, I felt very
uneasy about environmental disaster and the embrace of
many Western habits by the young Chinese. I felt less
unease in Nanjing, because the urban planners there seem
to exercise moderation, a better management of growth.
In Beijing, one of the world’s megacities, I was so
overwhelmed by its wealth, its size and constant motion,
and its exquisitely beautiful and exquisitely engineered
ancient and modern architecture that I forgot to be
dismayed. I selfishly enjoyed awe! My dismay regarding
the fate of Wuhan is tempered, however, by the more
immediate concerns I have for the fate of my own city of
residence, New Orleans, and of my adopted state,
Louisiana, as an oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico causes
irreversible harm to the ecology of the Southeastern
United States. Avarice, blindness, and violence must
surely be counted among our contemporary virtues.
Wherever I spoke during my two weeks in China (see
Appendix B), I suggested to my audiences that it might
be wise to be skeptical about progress and globalization
and wiser still to recuperate and use ancient wisdom.
The immediate contexts for my admonitions were literary
and cultural not environmental or overtly political.
Nevertheless, I hold firm deliberately to the less than
fashionable belief that one of the blessings of the
entire African American literary tradition (the
uncanonized and despised as well as the sainted and
worshipped) is its power to provoke strong critiques of
insane postures, cooperative forms of enslavement, and
life-threatening choices.
Margaret Walker’s
words regarding the humanistic tradition of African
American literature are still relevant and powerful, and
it was the spirit of her ideas about the everyday
usefulness of African American writing and other
expressive forms that I was determined to share with my
Chinese colleagues and their students.
It was not my intention to speak to my Chinese audiences
in jargon, although many Chinese scholars have mastered
the elevated abstractions of Western critical thought.
Academic languages hide more than they reveal about
African American thought. Reading and thinking in what
for most of them is a second or third language, they are
naturally somewhat puzzled by nuances and idioms that
are taken for granted by some African American writers
and thinkers, by what signifying on signifying actually
does or does not signify. The specifics of African
American history in some confluence with the
generalities of American history and the twisting of
gender, race, class, and ethnic notions are often
devilishly puzzling to them. My objective was to help
them resolve what is most confusing, or as much as can
be untangled through very brief cross-cultural exchanges
about literature. The audiences seemed most pleased
whenever I could refer to some item from Chinese history
or literature by way of making an analogy.
Two weeks in China taught me the importance of revealing
to Chinese listeners what the West, however it is
defined, does not want them to know too thoroughly: the
rhythms and cycles of resistance, accommodation,
capitulation, and neo-resistance in African American
life and literature. As the Chinese comprehend more
about those rhythms and cycles, they will appreciate
more what they do have in common with African Americans.
The mystery encoded in the phrase “people of color” will
go up in smoke. Chinese students do need to know the
viciousness of what
Charles W. Mills has rightly called the racial
contract and how the nature of that contract might
express its power in the name of globalization. I
merely hinted in my keynote address on June 14 for the
“Ethnicity, Identity, and Contemporary Literary Studies:
A Global Perspective” conference at Nanjing University
what that power demands (See Appendix C). I shall be
more forthcoming in a future essay “To the Chinese
Student: Thematic Study of African American
Literature.” That essay will further strengthen my
commitment to helping build centers or forums for the
study of African Americans at Central China Normal
University, Nanjing University, and Beijing
International Studies University and to having ongoing
dialogues with my Chinese colleagues. That essay will
allow me to say why
|
Lo, Kwai-Cheung. “Invisible Neighbors:
Racial Minorities and the Hong Kong Chinese
Community.” Critical Zone 3: A Forum of
Chinese and Western Knowledge (2008):
59-74. |
is required reading for all of us.
* * *
* *
Appendix A:
China Lectures, June 7-17, 2010
Lecture #1: THE BLACK ARTS MOVEMENT, 1960-1980
ABSTRACT: Using the essays “Myth of a Negro Literature”
and “Black Writing” from
Home: Social Essays (1966) by LeRoi Jones [Amiri Baraka]
as points of origin, this lecture is a brief exploration
of The rejection of Eurocentric hegemony in determining
the validity of a people’s creative experiences and
expressions The unfinished project of describing and
testing the concept of “The Black Aesthetic” The
formation of critical strategies grounded in a people’s
use of literature designed to intensify aesthetic
consciousness.
Special attention is given to critical works by
Carolyn Rodgers
on poetry, Carolyn Fowler’s annotated bibliography
Black Arts and Black Aesthetics (1981) and
Stephen E. Henderson’s
Understanding the New Black Poetry: Black Speech and
Black Music as Poetic References (1972). The
rise and decline of the Black Arts Movement over a
period of two decades illuminates the function of
cultural and literary change in the evolving of literary
traditions.
Lecture #2: Dominant Themes in African
American Literature, 1746-2010
ABSTRACT: In African American Literature from
Phillis
Wheatley (1753?-1784) to
Colson Whitehead (1969 - ), dominant themes might be
grouped under two headings: human liberation (efforts to
be unfettered physically and mentally) and human freedom
(opportunities for creative actions). To be sure, such
a binary formation encourages reductive thinking; the
trap of reductive critical thought is to be avoided by
examining how dominant themes—identity, honor, love,
religion or spirituality, confrontations with nature,
duty, integrity or the absence of integrity—occur in
multiple combinations in African American works
discussed individually or as collective elements of a
tradition (e.g., women’s autobiography).
Thus, the early championing of freedom from tyranny in
Wheatley’s poetry is a thematic prelude to themes of
liberation in slave narratives, oral literature usually
designated folklore, and post-Civil War poetry and
fiction up to the end of the Harlem Renaissance. In
writing during the 1930 and after, themes focusing on
alienation, assertion of individuality, and resistance
become ascendant. In works being produced in the early
years of the 21st century, the themes of freedom and
dissociation from communal thinking seem to be
dominant. One might conclude very tentatively that
dominant themes in African American literature are
functions of situated responses.
N.B. All works discussed in this lecture are contained
in
The Norton Anthology of African American Literature,
2nd edition (2004).
Lecture #3: Recent African American
Studies
ABSTRACT: The concept of globalization stimulates
meaningful discussions about how desirable exchanges
among cultures are and will be in this century.
Reinaldo Laddaga’s article “From Work to
Conversation: Writing and Citizenship in a Global Age” [PMLA
122.2 (2007): 449-463] is a valuable, sobering overview
of “…conversations in which individuals from vastly
different origins can develop new forms of political
imagination and explore alternative ways of society
making” (462). The article does, however, send up a red
flag. We ought to use caution in embracing global
perspectives that do not severely critique imagined
communities and digital citizenship.
We may minimize ethnicity in our literary studies, but
we should not dismiss the historicity of ethnicity as a
category for analysis; nor should we be so enthralled
with fashioning ever new identities that we abandon the
importance of difference in literary traditions. This
talk brings notice to a few problematic issues in
globalization, global perspectives, and the study of
African American literature by commenting on
Chaotic Justice: Rethinking African American Literary
History (2009) by John Ernest,
Give My Poor Heart Ease: Voices of the Mississippi Blues
(2009) by William Ferris, and
Locating Race: Global Sites of Post-Colonial Citizenship
(2009) by Malini Johar Schueller.
Lecture #4: African American
Literature’s Response to Modernity
ABSTRACT: Modernism, as Houston A. Baker, Jr. observed
at the beginning of his extended essay
Modernism
and the Harlem Renaissance (1987), “locks
observers into a questing indecision that can end in
unctuous chiasmus”(1). As a supplement to Baker’s
specifications of difference between Euro-American and
African American modernisms, one might examine the
always emerging modern in the early works of
Ishmael Reed. Reed’s mapping of a mindscape
constitutes a valuable example of what Baker calls
renaissancism, “audible signs of the human will’s
resistance to tyranny and the human mind’s masterful and
insistent engagement with forms and deformation” (107).
* * *
* *
Appendix B:
June 4-June 19: People’s Republic of China
June 7 –“The Black Arts Movement, 1960-1980,”
Central China Normal University, Wuhan
June 8 –“Recent African American Studies,”
Central China Normal University
June 9 –“African American Literature’s Response
to Modernity,” Central China Normal University
June 10 –“Dominant Themes in African American
Literature, 1746-2010,” Nanjing University of Posts and
Telecommunications
June 11 –“African American Literature’s Response
to Modernity,” Nanjing University
June 12 –“Dominant Themes in African American
Literature, 1746-2010,” Nanjing University
June 14 –“Recent African American Studies”
Keynote Address, “Ethnicity, Identity and Contemporary
Literary Studies: A Global Perspective” Conference,
Nanjing University
June 17—“Dominant Themes in African American
Literature, 1746-2010,” American Minority Literature
Center, Beijing International Studies University
Videotape Interview by Xiaolin Zhu on Richard Wright,
Beijing International Studies University
* * *
* *
Appendix C:
Recent African American Studies
Globalization refers at once to recent theories about
cultural commerce and to transnational practices which
have a much longer history. We may know more about the
theories than the practices, especially in the domain of
literary study, because few of us do serious work in a
comparative sociology of literature, or would undertake
the daunting task of constructing a genuinely global
literary history. The page count would rival the
Oxford English Dictionary. We have not
conducted, to my knowledge, empirical studies of
cross-cultural readerships; we might be surprised how
few dedicated members are within those readerships.
We need this “missing” data to move from speculation to
more precise description of globalizing dynamics in the
field of literature, either in print or in other
technologies. Some information about cultural practices
is protected from our inquiry by the apparatus of
national security. Despite such difficulties, we find
the concept of globalization to be intriguing. It
stimulates us to have meaningful discussions about how
desirable exchanges among cultures are at present and
will be throughout the twenty-first century. Serious
work commences with serious talk. I take it as a given
that we are engaging in serious talk.
The January 2001 issue of PMLA was devoted to the
special topic “Globalizing Literary Studies,” and the
lead article, Paul Jay’s “Beyond
Discipline? Globalization and the Future of English,"1
merits several rereadings. The entire issue merits
rereading, but Jay’s article is noteworthy for a
proposal directly related to a future for the teaching
of literature in English and the practice of literary
study:
|
The more we emphasize the historically
constructed, politically and culturally
interested nature of literary studies, the
easier it will be to avoid putting British
or United States English at its center and
to prevent it from being disconnected from
the history of transnational cultural
politics. This danger can also be mitigated
by a commitment to putting knowledge about
the social, cultural, and political history
informing global literatures in English
ahead of our ingrained impulse to read them
through the lens of Western theoretical and
critical idioms. (43) |
As a student of African American literature and as a
teacher of English, which Jay speculates is “a
confusing descriptive or organizing term for literary
study in the United States” (43), I debate with myself
whether I know enough about the local (the African
American literary tradition as a combatant in our
unfinished “canon wars” in the United States) to plunge
into the uncertainties of the global. I know a little
about contracts in literary politics; I resist a
too-quick alienation of my ethnicity and my identity or
of those concepts as they obtain in African American
literary history.
Moreover, my reluctance is buttressed by
Reinaldo Laddaga’s article “From Work to Conversation: Writing
and Citizenship in a Global Age,"2
a most valuable and sobering overview of “…conversations
in which individuals from vastly different origins can
develop new forms of political imagination and explore
alternative ways of society making” (462). Laddaga sends
up a red flag. We ought to use caution in embracing
global perspectives that do not severely critique
imagined communities and digital citizenship.
To achieve some degree of mathematical elegance, we may
minimize ethnicity in our literary studies, but we
should not dismiss the historicity of ethnicity as a
category for analysis. Nor should we be so enthralled
with fashioning ever new identities that we abandon the
importance of difference in literary traditions. Even
as I cringe in the face of Plato’s argument for state
censorship of literature in
The Republic, I discern the continuing value of
some discrimination between imagination and reason,
between emotion and critical thought.
For the sake of anticipating from an African American
literary perspective unsettling and unsettled issues
germane to discussion of ethnicity, identity, and
literary study in a global perspective, I offer very
brief comments on three recent scholarly books; two of
them deal with local matters, and one directly addresses
global matters. Serious talk can profit from all three
of them.
Origins, ethos, ethnic identity
Ferris, William.
Give My Poor Heart Ease: Voices of the Mississippi Blues. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press,
2009.
Langston Hughes is
the African American poet most frequently acclaimed for
initiating uses of the blues (as musical form and source
for lyrical content) in writing a poetry of deceptive
simplicity, a poetry that rang true for people at the
bottom of the social totem. The artistic complexity of
his work surfaces by virtue of scrutiny of the texts in
concert with listening to the music that influenced the
texts. Hughes’s extensive travel—to Mexico, Europe, the
Caribbean, Russia, Africa—gives some evidence of his
global vision; at the level of texts, his migration from
blues to jazz forms, especially in
Ask Your Mama, repeats and refracts the move
from blues to jazz in the history of black music.
Tony Bolden identifies the migration as an epistrophy:
the performance of cultural (re) memory, “a unique
African American style of cultural production that is
both vernacular and sophisticated” (57).3
The importance of the vernacular as language and action
is expertly demonstrated in the poetry of one of
Hughes’s heirs,
Sterling D. Plumpp, who helps us to
discover “how to get two shifts out of the mind’s
factory for the price of one” (36).4
In its presentation of evidence (interviews) from
Mississippi Delta blues musicians, William Ferris’s
Give My Poor Heart Ease
is a meaningful intervention that provides insights
about blues ethos and vernacular identity that must be
used in dealing with literary works that claim to be
blues-based. Ferris focuses on the Southern
(Mississippi) rural origins, reminding us by way of
absence that urban origins (themselves the result of
migration from the South) and experiences have to be
added to our inquiry. How could we otherwise begin to
account for the blues and all other music in the grand
transnational flow of cultural influence? How, without
noticing the voices of the blues, can we make sense of a
blues aesthetic in global discourse on poetics?5
The language of Gussie Tobe, one of the musicians Ferris
interviewed, is a rich example of what can inform the
production of blues-based literature:
|
I remember the time I was plowing for fifty
cents a day. Shit. What could you buy with
it? And when you plow for that fifty cents
a day, you know what they’d do? They’d say,
“Come down to the commissary there, Gussie.”
He’d pay you half in money and the other
half they’d pay you off in their money. But
you couldn’t spend it a damn place but at
that store. Have a pocketful of money, but
where could you spend it? You couldn’t go
out there and buy you a beer or maybe go get
you a girl and go out to a good old restful
place and enjoy your life some. You had to
spend it right down there at that goddamned
robbissary
—not
a commissary
—a
robbissary. (Ferris 127) |
Tobe articulates an economic analysis of oppression
within a racialized and slightly humorous rhetoric. To
be sure, there is hybridity in the language, but it is
not the hybridity which “counterbalances the negative
connotation of displacement and its attendant identity
crisis” (7).6
Mr. Tobe’s identity is not based on uncertainty about
who he is, and he faces the negativity of displacement
without pleading. Literary study profits from dirtying
its hands in the dirt of origins before it sanitizes
them with the soap of abstractions. A global
perspective too often minimizes the importance of the
local as presented in Ferris’s collection of voices.
Local chaos and the global quest
Ernest, John. Chaotic
Justice: Rethinking African American Literary History.
Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2009.
Having been involved in such projects as
Redefining American Literary History (New
York: MLA, 1990) and the forthcoming
The Cambridge History of African American Literature,
for which John Ernest has written a chapter, I find his
work in the aptly named
Chaotic Justice
reassuring with regard to use of the local in
constructing literary historical narratives. John
Rawls’s elaboration of central doctrines in
A Theory of Justice7
inspires my provisional conclusion that social justice
is the fruit for which
Tantalus
eternally yearns.
In contrast, Ernest’s linking the explanatory promises
of chaos theory with a concern for methodology in
rethinking nineteenth-century African American
literature inspires provisional confidence: it is
possible to be more just than we have been in our
literary histories by including works currently banished
for want of “literary merit, ” for not fitting into an
aesthetic hierarchy of merit. “We are not in a
position,” Ernest remarks, “to determine such
hierarchies—we
are not in a position to identify aesthetic standards
the emerge from literary history—
unless and until we have surveyed the full range of
publications and cultural conditions that influenced
African American texts and textual production.” He
further notes, with admirable confidence, that
“nineteenth-century African American writing is not a
series of texts applying for our recognition; it is an
aesthetic and discursive field that operated within a
complex environment, and what we need most are
‘conversation’ that take us deeper into that
environment” ( Ernest 115-116).
It is important that here Ernest speaks of African
American writing rather than African American
literature, because, as some of us who are associated
with the Project on the
History of Black
Writing8
believe, the idea of writing permits examination of what
the idea of literature forbids. The original intent of
constructing the
Cambridge History of African American Literature
(CHAAL) was to bring more attention to writing, but the
motives of individual contributors ensured that the
tension between literature and writing would not be
obliterated. Ernest’s use of chaos theory and
Benoit Mandelbrot’s idea about the fractal geometry
of nature to introduce the idea of fractal narrative is
a major innovation in our discussions of African
American literature.
It urges us to deepen awareness that “race” is the
formation of race (Ernest 38). The governing logic
commits us to view representation and representation of
identity as integral dynamics in “the entire system of
events—ideological,
social, biological, and historical—involved
in its formation” (Ernest 37). Application of Ernest’s
provocative thinking might begin, he suggests, with “the
challenge of literary representation, the means by which
a representation consistent with reality itself shifts
the terms by which the cultural landscape, including
notions of both human bondage and freedom, can be
understood”( Ernest 74).
Chaotic Justice
is a remarkable catalyst for intellectual migration, for
rethinking procedures and motives in the making of
literary histories, and for prudence in recognizing
local chaos in the quest for the global.
Perspective is the Permanent Problem
Schueller, Malini Johar.
Locating Race: Global Sites of Post-Colonial Citizenship. Albany:
State University of New York Press, 2009.
In
Locating Race,
Malini J. Schueller makes a pointed, exceptionally
well-informed critique of the multiple constituents of
globalization discourses and the retreat from race (fear
of “race” as analytic category) in talk about
postcoloniality. Three chapters in her book—
Chapter One:
“Theorizing
Race, Postcoloniality, and Globalization”;
Chapter Two:
“Expunging
the Politics of Location: Articulation of African
Americanism in
Bhabha,
Appadurai, and
Spivak”;
Chapter Six:
“Black
Nationalism and Anti-Imperial Resistance in
Assata Shakur’s
Autobiography”—cast
light on the unanchored positions of African American
literature and culture in the global flow. Schueller’s
premise in Chapter One is that “. . . through their
cognizance of imperialism and colonial difference, world
system theories . . . provide a better model for
understanding contemporary U.S. culture than
globalization theories or general calls for
transnationalism and postnationalism” (Schueller 10).
From the perspective of African American Studies and
African American literary study, Schueller’s is a
necessary identification of what the terms “local” and
“locatedness” can mean in the pursuit of a global
perspective. These terms can be used
First, as synonyms for context in relation to race
because systemic racism is necessarily tied to the
juridical apparatuses of the nation-state that legislate
de
jure and affect
de facto
racism for particular raced groups; racial categories do
not travel similarly across or even within nations, and
might, as in the case of Hawai’ians and Puerto Ricans,
also be affected by the specificities of place; second,
to emphasize that raced resistances, tied to particular
national or even regional communities, can often be the
sites of progressive and radical resistances within the
nation and to alliance beyond (Schueller 2-3).
The terms as used by Schueller can usefully reorient
thinking about the permanent status “race” (however
bogus the scientific status of the concept) has in the
national, experiential evolving of the United States.
Why this should be the case is provocatively clarified
in such works as
The Racial Contract (1997) by Charles W.
Mills,
The World is a Ghetto (2001) by Howard Winant,
and
Slavery’s Constitution: From Revolution to
Ratification (2009) by David Waldstreicher.
What I take to be the clarifying power of the local was
challenged in a most interesting way when the novelist
and philosopher
Charles Johnson published “The
End of the Black American Narrative” in 20089
and suggested the black metanarrative of
victimization ought to be replaced by “new and better
stories, new concepts, and new vocabularies and grammar
based not on the past but on the dangerous, exciting,
and unexplored present, with the understanding that each
is, at best, a provisional reading of reality, a single
phenomenological profile that one day is likely to be
revised, if not completely overturned”(42). One
response, of course, is that the history of the old
metanarrative must not be dismissed in the whirlwinds of
making it new.
Indeed, the alternative narratives of which Johnson
dreams may, in some slantwise fashion, be supportive of
John Ernest’s call for use of chaos theory in literary
historical rewriting. Nevertheless, we would be left
with the grave danger of playing in the ideal domains of
discourses that retreat from engagement with the actual
materiality of racial practices in the United States.The
danger of such retreating is dealt with in detail in
Schueller’s second chapter as she explains how “the
problematic treatment of race in the work of some
postcolonial theorists, at times a denial of race as an
analytical category, despite the brilliant articulations
on race by Fanon, have resulted in theoretical blind
spots that have made connections between the fields
[postcolonial theory and African American studies]
tenuous”(51). The connection is possible in the formal
strategies of such a work as Assata Shakur’ s
autobiography, because the text brings to the foreground
“the importance of being rooted in and formed through
the historical legacy of African American slavery”(133).10
Schueller’s compelling arguments in
Locating Race,
like the arguments in Ernest’s
Chaotic
Justice
and the evidence in Ferris’s
Give My Poor Heart Ease,
serve as warrants both for my investment in
understanding how the world’s cultures attempt to have
conversations and for my resisting any global
perspective that requires repudiating African American
legacy (the past) as a prerequisite for agency in the
conversations.
Jerry W. Ward, Jr.
Dillard
University
* * *
* *
Notes
1 Jay,
Paul. “Beyond
Discipline? Globalization and the Future of
English.”
PMLA 116.1 (2001): 32-47.
2
Laddaga, Reinaldo. “From Work to
Conversation: Writing and Citizenship in a
Global Age.” PMLA 122.2 (2007): 449-463.
3
Bolden, Tony.
Afro-Blue: Improvisation in African American
Poetry and Culture. Urbana: University
of Illinois Press, 2004.
4
Jess, Tyehimba. “Sterling Plumpp, Blues Mentor.”
Valley Voices 9.1 (2009): 36-43. This
issue of Valley Voices is devoted to
critical articles on Sterling D. Plumpp is
crucial for understanding Plumpp’s fidelity to
the blues tradition as he produces poetic
innovations and riffs.
5
See Powell, Richard J. “The Blues Aesthetic:
Black Culture and Modernism.” The Blues
Aesthetic: Black Culture and Modernism.
Exhibit Catalog. Washington, DC: Washington
Project for the Arts, 1989:19-35. Powell’s
comment on the concept of a “blues aesthetic” is
instructive: “Perhaps more than any other
designation, the idea of a blues aesthetic
situates the discourse squarely on: 1) art
produced in our time; 2) creative expressions
that emanate from artists who are empathetic
with Afro-American issues and ideals; 3) work
that identifies with grassroots, popular, and/or
mass black American culture; 4) art that has an
affinity with Afro-U.S.-derived music and/or
rhythms; and 5) artists and/or artistic
statements whose raison d’être is
humanistic.
6
Gruesser, John Cullen.
Confluences: Postcolonialism, African American
Literary Studies, and the Black Atlantic.
Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2005.
7
Rawls, John.
A Theory of Justice.
Revised edition. Cambridge: The Belknap Press of
Harvard University Press, 2003.
8
For information about PHBW, access
http://www2.ku.edu/~phbw
9
Johnson, Charles. “The End of the Black American
Narrative.” The American Scholar 77.3
(2008): 32-42.
10
Schueller’s reading of Shakur’s autobiography
should considered in tandem with Kenneth
Mostern’s
Autobiography and Black Identity Politics:
Racialization in Twentieth-Century America
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999.
* * *
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* * *
Life on Mars
By Tracy K. Smith
Tracy K. Smith, author of Life on Mars has been selected as the winner of the 2012 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry. In its review of the book, Publishers Weekly noted the collection's "lyric brilliance" and "political impulses [that] never falter." A New York Times review stated, "Smith is quick to suggest that the important thing is not to discover whether or not we're alone in the universe; it's to accept—or at least endure—the universe's mystery. . . . Religion, science, art: we turn to them for answers, but the questions persist, especially in times of grief. Smith's pairing of the philosophically minded poems in the book’s first section with the long elegy for her father in the second is brilliant." Life on Mars follows Smith's 2007 collection, Duende, which won the James Laughlin Award from the Academy of American Poets, the only award for poetry in the United States given to support a poet's second book, and the first Essence Literary Award for poetry, which recognizes the literary achievements of African Americans.
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The Body’s Question (2003) was her first published collection. Smith said Life on Mars, published by small Minnesota press Graywolf, was inspired in part by her father, who was an engineer on the Hubble space telescope and died in 2008.
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Slavery’s
Constitution: From Revolution
to Ratification
(2009)
By David Waldstreicher
Taking on decades of received wisdom,
David Waldstreicher has written the
first book to recognize slavery’s place
at the heart of the U.S. Constitution.
Famously, the Constitution never
mentions slavery. And yet, of its
eighty-four clauses, six were directly
concerned with slaves and the interests
of their owners. Five other clauses had
implications for slavery that were
considered and debated by the delegates
to the 1787 Constitutional Convention
and the citizens of the states during
ratification. This “peculiar
institution” was not a moral blind spot
for America’s otherwise enlightened
framers, nor was it the expression of a
mere economic interest. Slavery was as
important to the making of the
Constitution as the Constitution was to
the survival of slavery.By
tracing slavery from before the
revolution, through the Constitution’s
framing, and into the public debate that
followed, Waldstreicher rigorously shows
that slavery was not only actively
discussed behind the closed and locked
doors of the Constitutional Convention,
but that it was also deftly woven into
the Constitution itself. |
For one thing, slavery was central to the American
economy, and since the document set the stage for a
national economy, the Constitution could not avoid
having implications for slavery. Even more, since
the government defined sovereignty over individuals,
as well as property in them, discussion of
sovereignty led directly to debate over slavery’s
place in the new republic.Finding meaning in silences
that have long been ignored, Slavery’s Constitution
is a vital and sorely needed contribution to the
conversation about the origins, impact, and meaning
of our nation’s founding document.
* *
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Ratification
The People Debate the Constitution,
1787-1788
By Pauline Maier
A
notable historian of the early republic,
Maier devoted a decade to studying the
immense documentation of the
ratification of the Constitution.
Scholars might approach her book’s
footnotes first, but history fans who
delve into her narrative will meet
delegates to the state conventions whom
most history books, absorbed with the
Founders, have relegated to obscurity.
Yet, prominent in their local counties
and towns, they influenced a
convention’s decision to accept or
reject the Constitution. Their
biographies and democratic credentials
emerge in Maier’s accounts of their
elections to a convention, the political
attitudes they carried to the conclave,
and their declamations from the floor.
The latter expressed opponents’
objections to provisions of the
Constitution, some of which seem
anachronistic (election regulation
raised hackles) and some of which are
thoroughly contemporary (the power to
tax individuals directly). |
 |
Ripostes from proponents, the Federalists, animate the
great detail Maier provides, as does her recounting how one
state convention’s verdict affected another’s. Displaying the
grudging grassroots blessing the Constitution originally
received, Maier eruditely yet accessibly revives a neglected but
critical passage in American history.—Booklist
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* * *
 |
The Prophet of Zongo Street
Stories by Mohammed Naseehu Ali
Vivid
images of African life and familiar snippets of expatriate
life infuse this debut collection by a Ghana-born writer and
musician. On the fictional Zongo Street in Accra, young
children gather around their grandmother to hear a creation
story from "the time of our ancestors' ancestors' ancestors"
in "The Story of Day and Night." In "Mallam Sille," a weak,
46-year-old virgin tea seller finds soulful strength in
marriage to a dominant village woman. Other stories take
place in and around New York City, depicting immigrants
struggling with American culture and values. A Ghanaian
caregiver vows not to "grow old in this country" in
"Live-In," while in "The True Aryan," an African musician
and an Armenian cabbie competitively compare tragic cultural
histories on the ride from Manhattan to Brooklyn, achieving
humanist understanding as they reach Park Slope: |
"I looked into his eyes, and with a sudden deep
respect said to the man, 'I'll take your pain, too.'
" Several stories close in a similarly magical,
almost folkloric epiphany, as when sleep becomes an
attempt "to bring calm to the pulsing heart of Man"
in "The Manhood Test." Ali speaks melodiously but
not always provocatively in these tales of
transition and emigration.—Publishers
Weekly
* * * *
*
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Writings of Frank Marshall Davis
A Voice of the Black Press
Edited by
John Edgar Tidwell
Frank Marshall
Davis (1905-1987) was a central figure in the black
press, working as reporter and editor for the
Atlanta World, the Associated Negro Press, the
Chicago Star, and the Honolulu Record.
Writings of Frank Marshall Davis presents a
selection of Davis's nonfiction, providing an
unprecedented insight into one journalist's ability
to reset the terms of public conversation and frame
the news to open up debate among African Americans
and all Americans. During the middle of the
twentieth century, Davis set forth a radical vision
that challenged the status quo. His commentary on
race relations, music, literature, and American
culture was precise, impassioned, and engaged. At
the height of World War II, Davis boldly questioned
the nature of America's potential postwar relations
and what they meant for African Americans and the
nation. His work challenged the usefulness of race
as a social construct, and he eventually disavowed
the idea of race altogether. Throughout his career,
he championed the struggles of African Americans for
equal rights and laboring people seeking fair wages
and other benefits. |
 |
In his reviews on music, he argued that blues and jazz
were responses to social conditions and served as weapons of
racial integration. His book reviews complemented his radical
vision by commenting on how literature reshapes one's
understanding of the world. Even his travel writings on Hawaii
called for cultural pluralism and tolerance for racial and
economic difference. Writings of Frank Marshall Davis reveals a
writer in touch with the most salient issues defining his era
and his desire to insert them into the public sphere. John Edgar
Tidwell provides an introduction and contextual notes on each
major subject area Davis explored.
* *
* * *
 |
The First Emancipator
The Forgotten Story of Robert Carter, the
Founding Father Who Freed His Slaves
By
Andrew Levy
In
1791, at a time when the nation's leaders
were fervently debating the contradiction of
slavery in a newly independent nation,
wealthy Virginia plantation owner Robert
Carter III freed more than 450 slaves. It
was to be the largest emancipation until the
Emancipation Proclamation, signed by Abraham
Lincoln. Levy offers an absorbing look at
the philosophical and religious debate and
the political and family struggles in which
Carter engaged for years before very
deliberately and systematically freeing his
slaves as he attempted to provide a model
for others to follow. Drawing on historic
documents, including Carter's letters and
painstakingly detailed accounts of
plantation activities, Levy conveys the
strongly held beliefs that drove Carter
through the political and religious fervor
of the time to arrive at a decision at odds
with those of other prominent leaders and
slaveholders of the time, including George
Washington and Thomas Jefferson. Levy offers
a fascinating look at one man's redemption
and his eventual lapse into historical
obscurity despite his incredibly bold
actions. Well researched and thoroughly
fascinating, this forgotten history will
appeal to readers interested in the
complexities of American slavery.—Booklist
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Pelican Heart—An Anthology of Poems by
Lasana M. Sekou
Edited by Emio Jorge
Rodriguez
Passion
for the Nation is what comes out of Sekou’s
poems at a first glance and at a deeper
reading. The book is a selection gathered
from eleven of Sekou’s poetry collections
between 1978 and 2010. Rodríguez is an
independent Cuban academic, writer, and
essayist. He has been a researcher at Casa
de las Américas’s Literary Research Center
and founded the literary journal Anales del
Caribe (1981-2000). María Teresa Ortega
translated the poems from the original
English to Spanish. A critical introduction,
detailed footnotes, and a useful glossary by
Rodríguez are also found in the book of 428
pages. The collection has been launched at
conferences in Barbados, Cuba, and Mexico.
Rodriguez’s introduction to Pelican Heart
refers to Dr. Howard Fergus’s Love Labor
Liberation in Lasana Sekou, which is the
critical commentary to Sekou’s work that
identifies three cardinal points in his
poetics. |
 |
I would add as cardinal points:
Belief or Driving Force of people in political
processes, like his political commitment to make St.
Martin independent, as the southern part of the
Caribbean island is a territory of the Netherlands,
while the northern part is a French Collectivité
d’outre-mer; Excitement over his literary
passions, which led him to found House of
Nehesi Publishers at age 23; co-found the
book festival of St. Martin, organized with
Conscious Lyrics Foundation and to expand
his culture considerably; Enthusiasm, which
springs out of his eyes and words when you
listen to his poetry being performed or when
you speak to Sekou in person.—Sara
Florian
* *
* * *
The White Masters of the
World
From
The World and Africa, 1965
By W. E. B. Du Bois
W. E. B. Du Bois’
Arraignment and Indictment of White Civilization
(Fletcher)
* *
* * *
Ancient African Nations
* * * * *
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The Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan
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The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
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Only a Pawn in Their Game
Rev. Jesse Lee Peterson Thanks America for
Slavery
* *
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The Journal of Negro History issues at Project Gutenberg
The
Haitian Declaration of Independence 1804
/
January 1, 1804 -- The Founding of
Haiti
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