When I went book shopping for my 30th birthday in February 2023, I had never heard of Martinican psychiatrist Frantz Fanon, nor his ground-breaking work ‘Black Skin, White Masks’ which was originally published in 1952.

This was an impulse purchase based entirely on my intrigue at the cover (which features the above portrait of Fanon) and the title of the book; the back cover offered very little in the way of describing what was waiting on the pages within.

When I sat down to read it some weeks later, I was still as intrigued and as clueless as the moment I decided to add this to my ever-burgeoning pile of books to take to the till.

I have rarely come across a text that manages to so seamlessly knit together rational, objective argument and a personal, emotional narrative. In BSWM, Fanon explores the psychological confusion that is present in the mind of ‘the colonised.’ A relevant and important topic even to this day (rather, especially in this day).

And Fanon’s use of language and the powerful, immediate tone of his prose feels exceptionally modern. Fanon explains to his reader microaggressions and the importance of lived experience, and many other concepts that have only recently found understanding amongst the wider population in the West.

The racism experienced by Black people (he specifically writes about the experience of young Black men) living in the shadow of colonialism in majority Black populated countries, or living in majority White population colonising countries, Fanon says, creates a confused self-understanding and self-hatred that wields the power to entirely fracture one’s identity.

Not only does Fanon elegantly and persuasively lay out a pragmatic argument for this theory, but he allows his academic voice to slip into glimpses of unmasked internal fury and confusion — taking the reader along for the ride through bursting stream-of-consciousness moments. Fanon offers up his own thoughts to produce an example of the ‘neurosis’ he’s discussing.

I cannot do justice to this text by attempting to unpack the more specific themes and experiences explored within; perhaps that explains to me why the back cover was so vague. Some books, I think, you just have to read without quite understanding what’s inside beforehand.

This is not a light read. It gives an in-depth, and two-pronged exploration of the mental weight of waking up every day to the drip, drip drip of persistent racism. Five stars from me, and I would wholly recommend it to everyone, but particularly those interested in Black scholarship and the social history of colonialism.