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In the Castle of My Skin
In a sleepy fishing village in 1930s Barbados, nine-year-old G. leads a life of quiet mischief. While the village lies tranquil in the shadow of its English landlord, Mr Creighton, and his towering house on the hill, G. makes his own fun, crab catching, teasing preachers, and playing among the pumpkin vines. Yet from this world of boyish pursuits, the precocious G. finds himself slowly awakening to strange goings-on in adult society. All around him, sudden bursts of violence-a devastating flood on the morning of his birthday; the headmaster unduly flogging his schoolmates on Empire day-hint at a brutality and destruction lurking beneath the apparently peaceful order things.
As the mounting wrongs of the present drive the villagers to rise up against Mr Creighton, the fissures in the façade of his Barbadian 'little England' begin to crack open, laying bare the central, bruising secret at the heart of their shared past. And as the world he knows crumbles before his eyes, G. is spurred ever closer to a life-changing decision, to secure his own freedom as he moves into adulthood.
Poetic, unsettling, this classic coming-of-age novel is a story of tragic innocence, as a poor village boy comes to consciousness amid the collapse of colonial rule in mid-century Barbados.
340 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1953
129 people are currently reading
3439 people want to read
About the author
George Lamming
33 books76 followersGeorge Lamming was born in the Caribbean island of Barbados on June 8, 1927. He attended The Combermere School which has produced other Barbadian literary icons including Frank Collymore and Austin Clarke. He left that island for Trinidad in 1946, teaching school until 1950. He then emigrated to England where, for a short time, he worked in a factory. In 1951 he became a broadcaster for the BBC Colonial Service. He entered academia in 1967 as a writer-in-residence and lecturer in the Creative Arts Centre and Department of Education at the University of the West Indies.
Since then, he has has served as a Visiting Professor and Writer-in-Residence at the City University of New York. He has worked as a faculty member and lecturer at the University of Texas at Austin and the University of Pennsylvania. He has also served as a Distinguished Visiting Professor at Duke University and a Visiting Professor of Africana Studies and Literary Arts at Brown University. In addition to his American teaching and lecturing experience, Lamming has also taught or lectured at universities in Tanzania, Denmark, and Australia.
Since then, he has has served as a Visiting Professor and Writer-in-Residence at the City University of New York. He has worked as a faculty member and lecturer at the University of Texas at Austin and the University of Pennsylvania. He has also served as a Distinguished Visiting Professor at Duke University and a Visiting Professor of Africana Studies and Literary Arts at Brown University. In addition to his American teaching and lecturing experience, Lamming has also taught or lectured at universities in Tanzania, Denmark, and Australia.
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October 11, 2025
As a native of Barbados, who grew up on the island until the age of eighteen, I feel I bring a different perspective to the experience of reading In the Castle of My Skin by George Lamming. The setting is not only familiar, but the dialect and the way of thinking ingrained in the various characters are all recognizable. Perhaps, I would even dare to say that they are part of me at a very fundamental level. In the Castle of My Skin is undeniably a very Barbadian book in countless ways that are almost indescribable. For instance, the description of the regimented life and assembly at the Village School, is inimical of the government (public) high school that I attended. As is the inherent intense rivalry that Barbadians have with Trinidad (where my mother comes from incidentally). It is reflected in the warnings that George's mother gives him on the night before he leaves the island to travel to Trinidad. It is also captured in the connection the characters feel to the land and sea in Little England (aka Barbados). The story is tragic, yet it reflects the feudal post-slavery, colonial conditions that existed in Barbados, in which many Black Barbadians were poor and disenfranchised. Creighton's Village, the main setting for the story, is a fictional example of a typical semi-rural village on the island, owned by a white landlord and inhabited by poor Black tenants.
What I enjoyed most about this novel is how Lamming cleverly wove all the strands of history that define Barbados into the narrative. From slavery, to the building of the Panama Canal (which depleted the island of one quarter of it's population, roughly 45 000 people between 1904-1916), to the 1937 riots, he captured all of the seminal events that have shaped the Barbadian psyche. At the same time, there were some aspects of the story that I found less enjoyable. The use of Barbadian or Bajan dialect in the dialogue between characters was at times jarring. Partly this was due to the fact that I am familiar with the dialect and it felt 'watered down' and inauthentic, since Lamming infused heavy doses of 'proper' English (quite logically) since he wanted to make it more readable to non-dialect speakers. But to me it felt as if people would never talk like this in reality. Moreover, I had the impression in several parts of the story that non-Barbadian readers might not fully grasp certain subtle, but important aspects of the story. For example, the description of the houses that people lived in was insufficient in my view to explain why they were movable. This was in fact due to their inherent design as 'chattel' houses (which Lamming did not delve into). Chattel means property, and these houses aka shacks were essentially constructed from planks of wood mounted on stilts supported by stones, which made them effectively movable. Other aspects of the story also miss relevant details. For example, his reference to the grapes at the seaside and to cuckoo and flying fish (the national dish of Barbados). Lamming in fact means sea grape (Coccoloba uvifera) which is technically not a grape species. Similarly, the description of cuckoo initially is quite vague, but later Lamming does a good job of explaining how it is prepared and how it tastes. Overall, In the Castle of My Skin is an enjoyable read which I would recommend to everyone, and especially to people who are part of the Barbadian diaspora. I'm immensely proud that this novel showcases Barbados and Barbadian culture.
** I strongly advise reading the Author's Introduction at the start of the book before diving into it.
*Further reading:
Chattel houses: https://barbados.org/chattel.htm
Barbados' link to the construction of the Panama canal: https://picturingblackhistory.org/bla...
1937 riots in Barbados: https://www.caribbeannationalweekly.c...
Sea grape:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coccolo...
Cuckoo and flying fish: https://www.greatbritishchefs.com/rec...
What I enjoyed most about this novel is how Lamming cleverly wove all the strands of history that define Barbados into the narrative. From slavery, to the building of the Panama Canal (which depleted the island of one quarter of it's population, roughly 45 000 people between 1904-1916), to the 1937 riots, he captured all of the seminal events that have shaped the Barbadian psyche. At the same time, there were some aspects of the story that I found less enjoyable. The use of Barbadian or Bajan dialect in the dialogue between characters was at times jarring. Partly this was due to the fact that I am familiar with the dialect and it felt 'watered down' and inauthentic, since Lamming infused heavy doses of 'proper' English (quite logically) since he wanted to make it more readable to non-dialect speakers. But to me it felt as if people would never talk like this in reality. Moreover, I had the impression in several parts of the story that non-Barbadian readers might not fully grasp certain subtle, but important aspects of the story. For example, the description of the houses that people lived in was insufficient in my view to explain why they were movable. This was in fact due to their inherent design as 'chattel' houses (which Lamming did not delve into). Chattel means property, and these houses aka shacks were essentially constructed from planks of wood mounted on stilts supported by stones, which made them effectively movable. Other aspects of the story also miss relevant details. For example, his reference to the grapes at the seaside and to cuckoo and flying fish (the national dish of Barbados). Lamming in fact means sea grape (Coccoloba uvifera) which is technically not a grape species. Similarly, the description of cuckoo initially is quite vague, but later Lamming does a good job of explaining how it is prepared and how it tastes. Overall, In the Castle of My Skin is an enjoyable read which I would recommend to everyone, and especially to people who are part of the Barbadian diaspora. I'm immensely proud that this novel showcases Barbados and Barbadian culture.
** I strongly advise reading the Author's Introduction at the start of the book before diving into it.
*Further reading:
Chattel houses: https://barbados.org/chattel.htm
Barbados' link to the construction of the Panama canal: https://picturingblackhistory.org/bla...
1937 riots in Barbados: https://www.caribbeannationalweekly.c...
Sea grape:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coccolo...
Cuckoo and flying fish: https://www.greatbritishchefs.com/rec...
May 3, 2010
Reading this book made me realise how much has changed, both in literature and society, in the half century since it was written. First of all, the writing struck me as extremely old-fashioned. For the first few pages, we learn nothing except that it’s the narrator’s ninth birthday and it’s raining. There are long, detailed descriptions of the rain, the house, the village, and still nothing happens. I could feel my impatience building. I didn’t care what colour the shingles were – I wanted to know who the story was about, what issues they were grappling with.
And then I remembered: novels used to be written this way. Start with the weather, then the roof, then fill in the walls and the furniture, sketch the village and the surrounding countryside, and only then get around to telling the story. I suppose it’s a form of writing that made sense in a less hurried age. I also think that, before TV and film, there was an acceptance of the fact that people needed a visual picture before they could start to listen to a story. Movies convey the visual stuff instantly, so can go straight into the story without delay, and I suppose at some point we began to expect the same of books. But for a long time, this is how novels were written – slowly, methodically, painting the background in painstaking detail before allowing any characters to come into the foreground.
When I remembered that, I enjoyed the book much more. I stopped waiting for something to happen and just enjoyed the descriptive prose, much of it beautiful. Finally around page 50, something like a plot began to form, and by about page 150 I was really into it. The long build-up had played an important part. By telling me about a whole load of irrelevant minutiae, Lamming had set me up to care about and believe in the characters, so that when things did eventually begin to happen, I felt much more of an emotional attachment than I expected.
Now onto the social change, which is a major theme of the book. The small Barbadian village in which the book is set is like something from another era altogether. The set-up is feudal, with the white plantation owner Mr Creighton owning the village and a strange relationship of mutual resentment and dependency between him and the villagers. He helps them when things are bad – for example when the village is flooded he pays for repairs – and he has a kind of paternalistic attitude of caring for them which they reciprocate with respect for him. But they also join a strike against him for unfair wages, and one of them is tempted to kill him during a riot. And when he’s had enough, he sells up.
The villagers have mostly saved up to buy their own houses, but don’t own the land on which the houses sit. So when Mr Creighton sells, they have to move, and the village is destroyed. Some of them try to move the houses, but they are old wooden houses and crumble when they are moved from the foundation blocks. It’s quite a tragic ending, and mirrors the boy’s gradual development from a nine-year-old boy to the verge of adulthood. He, like his boyhood friend Trumper, is planning to abandon the village and go abroad. The old man, known only as Pa, has to go to the poor house. Worst of all, the land has been bought by the penny savings bank into which they have been putting their own savings. It’s run by Mr Slime, a former teacher in the village who promised them they would own the land one day. To get enough money to buy all the land, he has to attract investors from outside the village, and of course they don’t care about the people and their families having lived on the land for centuries – they just want their own space to build a house of their own.
It’s very well communicated – I felt real anger at the injustice of the villagers’ situation, but also could empathise with Mr Slime and the other investors, who were coming out of poverty themselves and just wanted a piece of land to build a house and a middle class life. It was a betrayal, but I could understand them and empathise. The landowner Mr Creighton is not evil, either. It’s a good, complex situation, and Lamming’s great care in describing it all in so much detail means that it all feels real and believable in the end, and is quite emotionally affecting. Definitely glad that I persevered through all those pages of rain.
And then I remembered: novels used to be written this way. Start with the weather, then the roof, then fill in the walls and the furniture, sketch the village and the surrounding countryside, and only then get around to telling the story. I suppose it’s a form of writing that made sense in a less hurried age. I also think that, before TV and film, there was an acceptance of the fact that people needed a visual picture before they could start to listen to a story. Movies convey the visual stuff instantly, so can go straight into the story without delay, and I suppose at some point we began to expect the same of books. But for a long time, this is how novels were written – slowly, methodically, painting the background in painstaking detail before allowing any characters to come into the foreground.
When I remembered that, I enjoyed the book much more. I stopped waiting for something to happen and just enjoyed the descriptive prose, much of it beautiful. Finally around page 50, something like a plot began to form, and by about page 150 I was really into it. The long build-up had played an important part. By telling me about a whole load of irrelevant minutiae, Lamming had set me up to care about and believe in the characters, so that when things did eventually begin to happen, I felt much more of an emotional attachment than I expected.
Now onto the social change, which is a major theme of the book. The small Barbadian village in which the book is set is like something from another era altogether. The set-up is feudal, with the white plantation owner Mr Creighton owning the village and a strange relationship of mutual resentment and dependency between him and the villagers. He helps them when things are bad – for example when the village is flooded he pays for repairs – and he has a kind of paternalistic attitude of caring for them which they reciprocate with respect for him. But they also join a strike against him for unfair wages, and one of them is tempted to kill him during a riot. And when he’s had enough, he sells up.
The villagers have mostly saved up to buy their own houses, but don’t own the land on which the houses sit. So when Mr Creighton sells, they have to move, and the village is destroyed. Some of them try to move the houses, but they are old wooden houses and crumble when they are moved from the foundation blocks. It’s quite a tragic ending, and mirrors the boy’s gradual development from a nine-year-old boy to the verge of adulthood. He, like his boyhood friend Trumper, is planning to abandon the village and go abroad. The old man, known only as Pa, has to go to the poor house. Worst of all, the land has been bought by the penny savings bank into which they have been putting their own savings. It’s run by Mr Slime, a former teacher in the village who promised them they would own the land one day. To get enough money to buy all the land, he has to attract investors from outside the village, and of course they don’t care about the people and their families having lived on the land for centuries – they just want their own space to build a house of their own.
It’s very well communicated – I felt real anger at the injustice of the villagers’ situation, but also could empathise with Mr Slime and the other investors, who were coming out of poverty themselves and just wanted a piece of land to build a house and a middle class life. It was a betrayal, but I could understand them and empathise. The landowner Mr Creighton is not evil, either. It’s a good, complex situation, and Lamming’s great care in describing it all in so much detail means that it all feels real and believable in the end, and is quite emotionally affecting. Definitely glad that I persevered through all those pages of rain.
October 10, 2021
Magnificent! What a great book! My first Bajan reading and it was unbelievably good with all the detailed descriptions of colonial schools, community life, and local people that some time during the reading you feel like you completely know them! Kids sitting down on the beach telling endless stories and news from Europe reaching people who have no clue whatsoever about all the turmoils that the world is going through. People leave the community after coming of age and Lamming draws this acute analogy between the US and England. Super recommended!
September 4, 2011
In the Castle of My Skin was written when its author, George Lamming, was just 23 years old. It is a semi-autobiographical story of the artist-as-a-young-man/child sort but it is also much more than that. It is the story of a small island country (Barbados) becoming aware of itself, its colonized identify and the desire to cling to tradition while feeling pulled into change.
Lamming alternates points of view-the young child, the school boys, the teachers, an elderly couple lamenting yet wishing for change in an almost dizzying way. G., the novel's protagonist, is often off-stage for long periods of time. Only rarely is the narrative "I" used and the story is rarely told in a straight-forward way. The imagery of water, the floods that mark for the islanders the beginning of the entry of the 20th century into their lives, the emmigration of the island's most promising young men and the burgeoning awareness of politics, slavery, and the greater world.
Betrayal is a major theme: the islanders are betrayed by the land, the "mother" country (England) and one of their most followed leaders, Mr. Slime (I swear I am not fabricating his name!). Slime begins his life in this book as a teacher, as a photograph given to the head of the school in which the headmaster's wife is seen betraying him with one of the teachers (Slime). He becomes a union leader, a minister and more.
Although the characters suffer from a kind of flatness due to their use as "representatives" or "symbols" and the writing is so dense that I found reading the book difficult and slow, ultimately I valued the intensity of the books moral core, powerful images, and often beautiful prose. I was unable to connect with any of the characters and felt unable to connect emotionally with the book (which is why I gave the book 4, not 5 stars) but intensely valued the intellectual integrity and power of the work.
If you are interested in colonialism and the struggle to break free and become independent, this book (an early example of postcolonial literature) will be well worth the effort involved in reading it.
Lamming alternates points of view-the young child, the school boys, the teachers, an elderly couple lamenting yet wishing for change in an almost dizzying way. G., the novel's protagonist, is often off-stage for long periods of time. Only rarely is the narrative "I" used and the story is rarely told in a straight-forward way. The imagery of water, the floods that mark for the islanders the beginning of the entry of the 20th century into their lives, the emmigration of the island's most promising young men and the burgeoning awareness of politics, slavery, and the greater world.
Betrayal is a major theme: the islanders are betrayed by the land, the "mother" country (England) and one of their most followed leaders, Mr. Slime (I swear I am not fabricating his name!). Slime begins his life in this book as a teacher, as a photograph given to the head of the school in which the headmaster's wife is seen betraying him with one of the teachers (Slime). He becomes a union leader, a minister and more.
Although the characters suffer from a kind of flatness due to their use as "representatives" or "symbols" and the writing is so dense that I found reading the book difficult and slow, ultimately I valued the intensity of the books moral core, powerful images, and often beautiful prose. I was unable to connect with any of the characters and felt unable to connect emotionally with the book (which is why I gave the book 4, not 5 stars) but intensely valued the intellectual integrity and power of the work.
If you are interested in colonialism and the struggle to break free and become independent, this book (an early example of postcolonial literature) will be well worth the effort involved in reading it.
May 5, 2022
You in the castle of your skin / I the swineherd.
Derek Walcott, Epitaph for the Young: XII Cantos
The likenesses will meet and make merry, but they won’t know you, the you that’s hidden somewhere in the castle of your skin
The first person narrator of In the Castle of My Skin
IIn the Castle of My Skin was George Lamming's debut novel, written in his 20s after he had emigrated from Barbados to the UK, and a book now rightly hailed as a modern classic.
This is a semi-autobiographical coming-of-age tale set in the 1930s and 1940s in the a fictitious Bajan village, based on Lamming's own home Carrington Village (also seemingly closer to Bridgetown as the village borders Belleville and a beach scene appears to be at Needle Point):
An estate where fields of sugar cane had once crept like an open secret across the land had been converted into a village that absorbed some three thousand people. An English landowner, Mr. Creighton, had had died, and the estate fell to his son through whom' it passed to another son who in his turn died, surrendering it to yet another. Generations had lived and died in this remote corner of a small British colony, the oldest and least adulterated of British colonies: Barbados or Little England as it was called in the local school texts. To the east where the land rose gently to a hill, there was a large brick building surrounded by a wood and a high stone wall that bore bits of bottle along the top. The landlords lived there amidst the trees within the wall. Below and around it the land spread out into a flat unbroken monotony of small houses and white marl roads. From any point of the land one could see on a clear day the large brick house hoisted on the hill. When the weather wasn't too warm, tea was served on the wide, flat roof, and villagers catching sight through the trees of the shifting figures crept behind their fences, or stole through the wood away from the wall to see how it was done. Pacing the roof, the landlord, accompanied by his friends, indicated in all directions the limits of the land.
The novel has been much analysed (see e.g. https://www.encyclopedia.com/arts/edu... for an overview) so I will pick up on one point that struck me. There is a fascinating contrast between two flawed men
- the most recent of the line of Mr Creightons, who had lived in and been landlord of the village for 30 years, not a harsh landlord but seeing himself as a level above the villagers (he could bear anything except disrespect. It knocked at the roots of his world.) and with something of an "Après moi, le déluge" view of what would happen to the villagers if he does give up his property, a phrase I choose deliberately given how flash floods are a key motif in the novel.
- Mr Slime, the local schoolteacher, turned agitator for worker's rights, founder of a Poor Man’s Penny Bank and Help Your Brother Friendly Society to enable the villagers to save, a vocal politician, but ultimately his laudable aims corrupted by money resulting in upheaval in the villagers’ way of life.
As an elderly villager murmurs in a feverish dream based around the Middle Passage and the founding of the islands:
For the buyer and the seller 'twas no difference 'twixt these two, price and value, value and price, since silver is solution for every ready-made sorrow. And so 'tis today in the islands left and right of this your little island and for the village too that's not very important. Silver is more than what pass from hand to hand. 'Tis also a way of what you call getting on. If the islands be sick 'tis for no other reason than the ancient silver. Your motto now is price or power which mean the same same thing. Sinner and saint are alike in this matter. I see the purchase of tribes on the silver sailing vessels, some to Jamaica, Antigua, Grenada, some to Barbados and the island of oil and the mountains tops. And then as 'tis now, though the season change, some was trying to live and some trying to die, and some were too tired to worry about either.
Derek Walcott, Epitaph for the Young: XII Cantos
The likenesses will meet and make merry, but they won’t know you, the you that’s hidden somewhere in the castle of your skin
The first person narrator of In the Castle of My Skin
IIn the Castle of My Skin was George Lamming's debut novel, written in his 20s after he had emigrated from Barbados to the UK, and a book now rightly hailed as a modern classic.
This is a semi-autobiographical coming-of-age tale set in the 1930s and 1940s in the a fictitious Bajan village, based on Lamming's own home Carrington Village (also seemingly closer to Bridgetown as the village borders Belleville and a beach scene appears to be at Needle Point):
An estate where fields of sugar cane had once crept like an open secret across the land had been converted into a village that absorbed some three thousand people. An English landowner, Mr. Creighton, had had died, and the estate fell to his son through whom' it passed to another son who in his turn died, surrendering it to yet another. Generations had lived and died in this remote corner of a small British colony, the oldest and least adulterated of British colonies: Barbados or Little England as it was called in the local school texts. To the east where the land rose gently to a hill, there was a large brick building surrounded by a wood and a high stone wall that bore bits of bottle along the top. The landlords lived there amidst the trees within the wall. Below and around it the land spread out into a flat unbroken monotony of small houses and white marl roads. From any point of the land one could see on a clear day the large brick house hoisted on the hill. When the weather wasn't too warm, tea was served on the wide, flat roof, and villagers catching sight through the trees of the shifting figures crept behind their fences, or stole through the wood away from the wall to see how it was done. Pacing the roof, the landlord, accompanied by his friends, indicated in all directions the limits of the land.
The novel has been much analysed (see e.g. https://www.encyclopedia.com/arts/edu... for an overview) so I will pick up on one point that struck me. There is a fascinating contrast between two flawed men
- the most recent of the line of Mr Creightons, who had lived in and been landlord of the village for 30 years, not a harsh landlord but seeing himself as a level above the villagers (he could bear anything except disrespect. It knocked at the roots of his world.) and with something of an "Après moi, le déluge" view of what would happen to the villagers if he does give up his property, a phrase I choose deliberately given how flash floods are a key motif in the novel.
- Mr Slime, the local schoolteacher, turned agitator for worker's rights, founder of a Poor Man’s Penny Bank and Help Your Brother Friendly Society to enable the villagers to save, a vocal politician, but ultimately his laudable aims corrupted by money resulting in upheaval in the villagers’ way of life.
As an elderly villager murmurs in a feverish dream based around the Middle Passage and the founding of the islands:
For the buyer and the seller 'twas no difference 'twixt these two, price and value, value and price, since silver is solution for every ready-made sorrow. And so 'tis today in the islands left and right of this your little island and for the village too that's not very important. Silver is more than what pass from hand to hand. 'Tis also a way of what you call getting on. If the islands be sick 'tis for no other reason than the ancient silver. Your motto now is price or power which mean the same same thing. Sinner and saint are alike in this matter. I see the purchase of tribes on the silver sailing vessels, some to Jamaica, Antigua, Grenada, some to Barbados and the island of oil and the mountains tops. And then as 'tis now, though the season change, some was trying to live and some trying to die, and some were too tired to worry about either.
May 28, 2021
"They can never know you (...) The likenesses will meet and make merry, but they won't know you. They won't know the you that's hidden somewhere in the castle of your skin."
IN THE CASTLE OF MY SKIN (1953) was George Lamming's highly acclaimed debut novel which explores the childhood of a boy called G. growing up on the Caribbean island of Barbados. This autobiographical novel is set in Carrington Village, where George Lamming was born and raised, in the 1930s and 40s. Barbados was a British colony at the time and is often referred to as "Little England".
Life was simple, free and easy in the undeveloped island of Barbados. The villagers existed at the bottom of a hierarchy but they did not see themselves as enslaved. There was a sense of freedom and pride that came from their allegiance to the British Empire.
Lamming has written a choral, intimist novel of life in a village inhabited by poor black people. The villagers minds have been effectively molded by the colonialist machinery for many decades, however, times are rapidly changing, and the old balance starts to crumble. The people sense the disintegration of the old order and become more reflective and questioning. The first cracks of this new consciousness, the foibles of colonial education, looming class tensions, natural disasters, greed and corruption are all captured in a lyrical language through the eyes of the 9 year old G.
This is a novel of perfectly crafted descriptions which reflects Lamming's love for his land and his people, written when he was only 23 years old. IN THE CASTLE OF MY SKIN is an impressive achievement and it is now considered a classic of the Black colonial experience. A most poignant return to lovely Barbados for me.
IN THE CASTLE OF MY SKIN (1953) was George Lamming's highly acclaimed debut novel which explores the childhood of a boy called G. growing up on the Caribbean island of Barbados. This autobiographical novel is set in Carrington Village, where George Lamming was born and raised, in the 1930s and 40s. Barbados was a British colony at the time and is often referred to as "Little England".
Life was simple, free and easy in the undeveloped island of Barbados. The villagers existed at the bottom of a hierarchy but they did not see themselves as enslaved. There was a sense of freedom and pride that came from their allegiance to the British Empire.
Lamming has written a choral, intimist novel of life in a village inhabited by poor black people. The villagers minds have been effectively molded by the colonialist machinery for many decades, however, times are rapidly changing, and the old balance starts to crumble. The people sense the disintegration of the old order and become more reflective and questioning. The first cracks of this new consciousness, the foibles of colonial education, looming class tensions, natural disasters, greed and corruption are all captured in a lyrical language through the eyes of the 9 year old G.
This is a novel of perfectly crafted descriptions which reflects Lamming's love for his land and his people, written when he was only 23 years old. IN THE CASTLE OF MY SKIN is an impressive achievement and it is now considered a classic of the Black colonial experience. A most poignant return to lovely Barbados for me.
May 3, 2021
This is a lyrically and beautifully written novel, of a lost childhood in a small Bajan/Barbadian village moulded by the forces of Empire and colonialism, yet also coming into its own.
Explosive events and radical changes happen outside the borders of C-- Village, yet the inhabitants feel that they have as much a role to play in shaping their country's destiny and future as the people of the big cities.
While the novel focusses mostly on G's upbringing at this time of great change, we also travel outside of G's body and mind to the minds and thoughts and experiences of other characters in the village - to the Headmaster plagued with his own frustrations and anxieties, to Boy Blue and Thumper, to Ma and Pa, in the last furloughs of their own lives, starstruck by how much is changing before their own eyes. And the strange, unstoppable rise of the teacher/activist, and Dickensian-named, Mr Slime.
Several novels by Black writers in the early 50s have made huge and lasting impacts since their arrivals - Ellison's Invisible Man, or Baldwin's early works. Lamming's work definitely deserves a Reanissance and/or a re-examination for the way he portrayed the various changes and silent forces at work as a country teeters on its tightrope towards independence.
Explosive events and radical changes happen outside the borders of C-- Village, yet the inhabitants feel that they have as much a role to play in shaping their country's destiny and future as the people of the big cities.
While the novel focusses mostly on G's upbringing at this time of great change, we also travel outside of G's body and mind to the minds and thoughts and experiences of other characters in the village - to the Headmaster plagued with his own frustrations and anxieties, to Boy Blue and Thumper, to Ma and Pa, in the last furloughs of their own lives, starstruck by how much is changing before their own eyes. And the strange, unstoppable rise of the teacher/activist, and Dickensian-named, Mr Slime.
Several novels by Black writers in the early 50s have made huge and lasting impacts since their arrivals - Ellison's Invisible Man, or Baldwin's early works. Lamming's work definitely deserves a Reanissance and/or a re-examination for the way he portrayed the various changes and silent forces at work as a country teeters on its tightrope towards independence.
May 17, 2021
Set in 1930s Barbados, this is a coming of age story based on the author’s own experiences. The villagers have become accustomed to the life in colonial ‘Little England’, with its Empire Day celebrations and the presence of the white landlord Mr Creighton. The narrator, G., leads an innocent life playing on the beach or catching crabs with his friends. But gradually he becomes aware that there are changes on the way, and that the world he knows is falling apart.
This is not an easy book to read as the style is dense and often convoluted. Sometimes G. appears as a conventional narrator, at other times he moves into the background as conversations he has overheard or events he has observed are used as a vehicle to fill in gaps in the narrative. It is a book that rewards careful attention and perseverance.
Lamming gives a really powerful sense of the violence and injustice underlying the colonial experience and this contrasts with the innocence of G’s childhood. There is a sense of illusion in the creation of the idea of ‘Little England’ mirrored in the self-delusion in the attitude of the villagers to those in authority over them. This is a challenging but often lyrical and affectionate look at a particular time and place, with memorable characters and scenes.
This is not an easy book to read as the style is dense and often convoluted. Sometimes G. appears as a conventional narrator, at other times he moves into the background as conversations he has overheard or events he has observed are used as a vehicle to fill in gaps in the narrative. It is a book that rewards careful attention and perseverance.
Lamming gives a really powerful sense of the violence and injustice underlying the colonial experience and this contrasts with the innocence of G’s childhood. There is a sense of illusion in the creation of the idea of ‘Little England’ mirrored in the self-delusion in the attitude of the villagers to those in authority over them. This is a challenging but often lyrical and affectionate look at a particular time and place, with memorable characters and scenes.
July 9, 2017
I found this to be a slow and difficult read.
There seemed to be too many styles, narrators and descriptive scenes to make it easy to follow. It's a pity because the themes of the book were great - the slow disintegration of English imperialism, the treatment of the "slaves" by the whites, the village's inherent belief in the power of old England, the rising injustice, and the coming of age of G.
There seemed to be too many styles, narrators and descriptive scenes to make it easy to follow. It's a pity because the themes of the book were great - the slow disintegration of English imperialism, the treatment of the "slaves" by the whites, the village's inherent belief in the power of old England, the rising injustice, and the coming of age of G.
January 17, 2020
My first novel of the new year and it’s very much a part of the last century.
It’s focused on the 30s and 40s period when the traditionally unchanging certainties and quasi-feudal life in a Barbadian village, owned and dominated by its white colonial landlord, are quickly being overturned and uprooted by new attitudes, economic changes and the impact of the war. The author uses long poetically descriptive passages and frequent repetition to express the strength of the community and its seemingly predictable, immutable lifestyle at the beginning. The changes are then conveyed not by direct description of actions or motives but by subjective word of mouth reports and discussion among villagers of events and their speculation over the unforeseen and often incomprehensible future. This keeps the story rooted firmly in the community and its members.
It’s in no way a simple two-tone critique of colonialism. Indeed at the end I had no sense of the move to a bright new dawn of freedom and independence. White colonialists play only a background role, except of course in that their paternalistic but exploitative social structure and race-based discrimination create and maintain the poverty and lack of awareness that later become the source of the villagers’ problems when empire decays and recedes.
The bad guys, if they can fairly be described as such, are educated, urban, newly comfortable black Barbadians who see the new post-feudal economy as an opportunity - even as it destroys the village community.
This novel is about change and the end of colonialism but also about class and society. One character does learn in the US to appreciate his black identity and voices his new understanding of racial prejudice and it’s negative impact on “his people”. However the novel seems to question whether this is the full picture and we do not see G enthusiastically embracing this new interpretation. In fact the ending leaves us in uncertainty - in the same way that the village community is facing massive uncertainty as it is broken up and its links are destroyed.
It’s a deceptively difficult novel even though the language and structure aren’t in themselves difficult but it took me a long time to read in the depth I found it merited. Those who like action and a detailed plot with minimal description might not like it. The descriptive passages here are almost as important a character as G himself. The use of multiple points of view alongside the author as both first and third person narrator - and in some cases different styles for each one - add to the complexity. Repetition is also used often, occasionally word for word, initially to express the unchanging nature of village life and then later to show the anxiety the new socio-economic order is having on villagers
It’s focused on the 30s and 40s period when the traditionally unchanging certainties and quasi-feudal life in a Barbadian village, owned and dominated by its white colonial landlord, are quickly being overturned and uprooted by new attitudes, economic changes and the impact of the war. The author uses long poetically descriptive passages and frequent repetition to express the strength of the community and its seemingly predictable, immutable lifestyle at the beginning. The changes are then conveyed not by direct description of actions or motives but by subjective word of mouth reports and discussion among villagers of events and their speculation over the unforeseen and often incomprehensible future. This keeps the story rooted firmly in the community and its members.
It’s in no way a simple two-tone critique of colonialism. Indeed at the end I had no sense of the move to a bright new dawn of freedom and independence. White colonialists play only a background role, except of course in that their paternalistic but exploitative social structure and race-based discrimination create and maintain the poverty and lack of awareness that later become the source of the villagers’ problems when empire decays and recedes.
The bad guys, if they can fairly be described as such, are educated, urban, newly comfortable black Barbadians who see the new post-feudal economy as an opportunity - even as it destroys the village community.
This novel is about change and the end of colonialism but also about class and society. One character does learn in the US to appreciate his black identity and voices his new understanding of racial prejudice and it’s negative impact on “his people”. However the novel seems to question whether this is the full picture and we do not see G enthusiastically embracing this new interpretation. In fact the ending leaves us in uncertainty - in the same way that the village community is facing massive uncertainty as it is broken up and its links are destroyed.
It’s a deceptively difficult novel even though the language and structure aren’t in themselves difficult but it took me a long time to read in the depth I found it merited. Those who like action and a detailed plot with minimal description might not like it. The descriptive passages here are almost as important a character as G himself. The use of multiple points of view alongside the author as both first and third person narrator - and in some cases different styles for each one - add to the complexity. Repetition is also used often, occasionally word for word, initially to express the unchanging nature of village life and then later to show the anxiety the new socio-economic order is having on villagers
November 29, 2025
i actually seriously couldn’t stand this
October 16, 2017
Difficult, dense and often gorgeously written, In the Castle of My Skin begins as a fairly ordinary sounding autobiography set in Barbados. Narrated at the start by a young boy, we hear about the floods in the village, about getting into trouble with his mother, about the boy next door. We listen to the chatter and gossip of the village women. And then the scene shifts, the camera sweeps elsewhere, the perspective changes and the voices clammer for attention. George Lamming's tale of growing up in Barbardan village is startling in its refusal to stick to a single narrative. Instead he writes a collection of clashing, jarring vignettes which paint a broader portrait of life on the island, the changes that encompass and engulfs its people, while creating an orchestra of voices trying to be heard.
The major scenes of the book revolve around the young narrator and his childhood friends, the school and the unexplained departure of the politically inclined Mr Slime, the building riots in the town and the homely chatter of old Pa and Ma who stand still while events flood around them, offering their commentary and their view. The difficulty of following these various voices is compounded by the dialogues which are many and written in dialectal English. Inbetween Lamming only occasionally strives towards clarity rather than his impressionistic, surprising style. The end returns to the beginning, back to first person autobiography as we emerge from the confusion of the riots and of childhood. Lamming tells us of the character's future plans and planned emigrations, the machinations of Mr Slime that are piecing up and selling off the village, and the politcal and racial awakening of the young characters.
Framed by those narrative bookends, the middle part is easy to get lost in. It is anecdotal and tangental, often telling seemingly irrelevant side plots in loose, folkloric style; a mixture of fable and town gossip. When Lamming settles down to tell the reader some detail his writing is crystal and sometimes magical. He is able to capture a mood and evoke a moment much better than he can tell a gripping yarn. In particular the long rambling scene on the beach when the three boys tell each other stories reaches an almost meditive beauty; it take a special, careful kind of writer to make you feel like you've been physically transported. Lamming's Barbados - the village and its floods, the ocean and the very stones of the beach - comes alive through his language.
The confused, tangled network of plots seems deliberate. At one point he even makes direct reference to the haziness of the narrative. It matches the haze of childhood, the way the villagers are in the dark about their future, the self-containment of Little Britain rules by the mythical Britain where the outside world only appears in brief flashes. The book is an education and an enlightenment, a coming of age not just of the young boys in it but also of a nation and a people. It reminds, above all, of the way Soyinka writes about childhood, but in reality its hard to make comparisons with Lamming's unique voice. In the Castle of My Skin is difficult to the point of getting lost sometimes, and not always enjoyable because of it, but the overall picture Lamming paints is quite impressive and worth the battle. 6
The major scenes of the book revolve around the young narrator and his childhood friends, the school and the unexplained departure of the politically inclined Mr Slime, the building riots in the town and the homely chatter of old Pa and Ma who stand still while events flood around them, offering their commentary and their view. The difficulty of following these various voices is compounded by the dialogues which are many and written in dialectal English. Inbetween Lamming only occasionally strives towards clarity rather than his impressionistic, surprising style. The end returns to the beginning, back to first person autobiography as we emerge from the confusion of the riots and of childhood. Lamming tells us of the character's future plans and planned emigrations, the machinations of Mr Slime that are piecing up and selling off the village, and the politcal and racial awakening of the young characters.
Framed by those narrative bookends, the middle part is easy to get lost in. It is anecdotal and tangental, often telling seemingly irrelevant side plots in loose, folkloric style; a mixture of fable and town gossip. When Lamming settles down to tell the reader some detail his writing is crystal and sometimes magical. He is able to capture a mood and evoke a moment much better than he can tell a gripping yarn. In particular the long rambling scene on the beach when the three boys tell each other stories reaches an almost meditive beauty; it take a special, careful kind of writer to make you feel like you've been physically transported. Lamming's Barbados - the village and its floods, the ocean and the very stones of the beach - comes alive through his language.
The confused, tangled network of plots seems deliberate. At one point he even makes direct reference to the haziness of the narrative. It matches the haze of childhood, the way the villagers are in the dark about their future, the self-containment of Little Britain rules by the mythical Britain where the outside world only appears in brief flashes. The book is an education and an enlightenment, a coming of age not just of the young boys in it but also of a nation and a people. It reminds, above all, of the way Soyinka writes about childhood, but in reality its hard to make comparisons with Lamming's unique voice. In the Castle of My Skin is difficult to the point of getting lost sometimes, and not always enjoyable because of it, but the overall picture Lamming paints is quite impressive and worth the battle. 6
June 27, 2021
3.5 stars. Lamming wrote this semi-autobiographical novel when he was only 23 years old. In it, we meet a young boy on his 9th birthday in Barbados and we follow him for the next 10 years. The novel is set in the late 1930's -1940's and you get a sense as the boy grows of both his own coming of age as well as his growing understanding of colonialism and the impact on his village. I appreciated the beauty of the language in here and there were a few moments of the narrator and his friends when they were in their early teens that rang so precisely true to how young boys/men that age act. Lamming is exceptional at describing a precise moment in time and pivoting in a circle around it to let the reader see it from different perspectives. The intro to the book in my edition was very helpful in having a more thorough understanding of this book and gave me some things to reflect on with other classic works of Caribbean literature that I have read. Lamming wrote this as a very slow burn of a novel -- it took me quite a while to get invested in the characters and at times it seemed overly detailed, to the point of detracting from the events of the novel. By the end, I had gained an appreciation for what he was accomplishing, but it did make for a pretty slow reading experience.
November 26, 2020
Written on a dazzling variety of styles to extraordinary effect. This is a coming of age story, but one that moves among a variety of perspectives and voices, so that it appears that the story is a kind of coming of age story not just for the boy but for a whole community. And yet it's not quite that, for we know, through the elderly Pa, that the memory of this community reaches back to the Middle Passage, and Trumper, toward the end, brings the promise (or threat?) of a new awareness, especially of and through race. It's more than that, it's a meditation on loss, on loneliness, on the gift and curse of family, but it is these things always within a very particular set of economic and colonial circumstances. It's also very much about property and land. And it's not so easy to read but it's lyric and beautiful, in its many different voices.
Very interesting that one perspective we don't really get is that of Mr. Slime--potential savior, potential villain.
Very interesting that one perspective we don't really get is that of Mr. Slime--potential savior, potential villain.
July 31, 2011
This is much more accessible than a lot of Lamming's other work, and well worth delving into... he recreates Barbados so vividly that you feel you KNOW it, without ever having set foot on it's sandy beaches.
August 27, 2018
Incredibly powerful and moving. Technically diverse and times slips into essay (sort of) format.
This novel makes you think about how important education is, and especially the effects that strict rules regarding education taken by colonisers has on the colonised.
This novel is fucking amazing
This novel makes you think about how important education is, and especially the effects that strict rules regarding education taken by colonisers has on the colonised.
This novel is fucking amazing
January 13, 2023
This is the type of story that pays off with patience. Initially, I was drawn in by the detailed descriptions of the island, the sea, and the sense of community; the latter of which comes to define one of the overarching threads of the novel. I was slightly confused at the switching between the first person viewpoint of G and that of the third person narrator, however it works so well at comparing the experience of the individual with that of the village (almost a character in and of itself).
Ultimately, this is a novel of profound change; ostensibly that of a coming of age novel which is so much more than just skin deep. Indeed, the novel tackles major themes on the question of race, the individual vs the collective, and the passing of time, all through the lens of colonialism.
Certainly a novel that will stay with me for a long time and one that gives me a perspective from the other side of the fence.
Ultimately, this is a novel of profound change; ostensibly that of a coming of age novel which is so much more than just skin deep. Indeed, the novel tackles major themes on the question of race, the individual vs the collective, and the passing of time, all through the lens of colonialism.
Certainly a novel that will stay with me for a long time and one that gives me a perspective from the other side of the fence.
March 9, 2023
This was my first taste of Caribbean literature, and George Lamming didn't disappoint. 'In the Castle of My Skin,' written when the author was just 23 years old, is a gorgeous novel that does what all great works do: captures human truth. And in this case, Lamming captured the soul of mid-century Barbados as well.
I imagine it would be nearly impossible for writers from countries subjugated to colonialism not to have that impact their work given how entwined with the development of the culture of the colonized a legacy of colonialism is (just one of the many tragedies of such a history). And though that legacy exists, initially, on the fringes of the narrative, as the protagonist grows up and his sense of awareness broadens, so too does this legacy become more of a prominent root of the antagonism that seems will inevitably shred the identity of the village where 'In the Castle of My Skin' is set.
This becomes incredibly obvious in the very last pages of the novel when the protagonist reconnects with a friend recently returned from a stint in America on the eve of his own departure from the island.
In a brilliant speech, his friend, Trumper, describes that though he had mixed feelings about his time in America, he gained an understanding of race there that illuminated not only a solid identity for him to internalize, but also of just how successful the British (whom he calls "the great administrators") were at building a system of oppression in a way the Americans had failed to do. He uses the example of how each nation performs exclusion. In Barbados, he explains, the British put up signs on certain buildings that say 'members only'.
In Barbados, he goes on, this method serves to pit the villagers against each other as they scrabble for small crumbs of power and status so that they then don't focus on the white families living true lives of decadent privilege on the hill. All of the people with whom they come into direct power struggles are other Black folks: Mr. Slime (who swindles the villagers in order to use their money to buy up land for himself) and the overseer (who enforces the white landlord's ownership of the village properties). Thus, the myth that they can one day be 'members' continues to propagate.
But in America, Trumper explains, the more blatant 'us' vs. 'them', divided along racial lines, had the unintended side effect (one still felt to this day) of creating solidarity among Black Americans.
This is hands down the best, most succinct explanation of the paradoxical reality and artifice of race I've ever read in fiction or otherwise. It's something I'd imagine most people of color, especially Black people, are acutely aware of just through life experience, but something I think that white people have a really hard time understanding much less acknowledging.
This is the reason that Black culture is a real thing, created out of something artificial, and 'white culture' isn't a real thing, and it's why I think a lot of people find the 'colorblind' approach to racial justice...annoying (?) to say the least.
Though this pointed exploration of race and power dynamics is what makes up the strong backbone of arguably the entire novel, much of the emotional core comes from how much of a love letter from Lamming to Barbados this is.
His descriptions of the island and its nature and his portraits of the villagers are rendered in loving detail, from the scenes of the kids chasing crabs down by the beach, to them just walking through the village and encountering its people, an extended description of the narrator's mother cooking his final meal before he leaves for Trinidad. It's all just absolutely lovely.
Because of this heavy use of vignette, the 'plot' as such doesn't follow traditional pacing, which, if you go in expecting that will make it feel like things are just dragging along without anything much actually happening until the last third, but if you're willing to meander and just sort of exist from scene to scene, I think it's an incredibly rewarding reading experience.
Highly, highly recommend.
I imagine it would be nearly impossible for writers from countries subjugated to colonialism not to have that impact their work given how entwined with the development of the culture of the colonized a legacy of colonialism is (just one of the many tragedies of such a history). And though that legacy exists, initially, on the fringes of the narrative, as the protagonist grows up and his sense of awareness broadens, so too does this legacy become more of a prominent root of the antagonism that seems will inevitably shred the identity of the village where 'In the Castle of My Skin' is set.
This becomes incredibly obvious in the very last pages of the novel when the protagonist reconnects with a friend recently returned from a stint in America on the eve of his own departure from the island.
In a brilliant speech, his friend, Trumper, describes that though he had mixed feelings about his time in America, he gained an understanding of race there that illuminated not only a solid identity for him to internalize, but also of just how successful the British (whom he calls "the great administrators") were at building a system of oppression in a way the Americans had failed to do. He uses the example of how each nation performs exclusion. In Barbados, he explains, the British put up signs on certain buildings that say 'members only'.
There be clubs which you an' me can't go to, an' none of my people here, no matter who they be, but they don't tell us we can't. [...] An' although we know from the start why we can't go, we got the consolation we can't 'cause we ain't members. In America they don't worry with that kind o' beatin' bout the bush. (p.296)
In Barbados, he goes on, this method serves to pit the villagers against each other as they scrabble for small crumbs of power and status so that they then don't focus on the white families living true lives of decadent privilege on the hill. All of the people with whom they come into direct power struggles are other Black folks: Mr. Slime (who swindles the villagers in order to use their money to buy up land for himself) and the overseer (who enforces the white landlord's ownership of the village properties). Thus, the myth that they can one day be 'members' continues to propagate.
But in America, Trumper explains, the more blatant 'us' vs. 'them', divided along racial lines, had the unintended side effect (one still felt to this day) of creating solidarity among Black Americans.
'Sometimes here the whites talk 'bout the Negro people. It ain't so in the States [...] There they simply say the Negroes,' said Trumper [...] There ain't no "man" and there ain't no "people." [...] It make a tremendous difference not to the whites but the blacks. [...] That's how we learn the race. 'Tis what a word can do. Now there ain't a black man in all America who won't get up an' say I'm a Negro and proud of it. We all are proud of it. I'm going to fight for the rights o' the Negroes, and I'll die fighting. That's what any black man in the States will say. He ain't got no time to think 'bout the rights o' Man or People or whatever you choose to call it. It's the rights o' the Negro, 'cause we have gone on usin' the word the others use for us, an' now we are a different kind o' creature. [...] You'll hear 'bout the Englishman, an' the Frenchman [...] An' each is call that 'cause he born in that particular place. But you'll become a Negro like me an' all the rest in the States an' all over the world, 'cause it ain't have nothin' to do with where you born." (p.297)
This is hands down the best, most succinct explanation of the paradoxical reality and artifice of race I've ever read in fiction or otherwise. It's something I'd imagine most people of color, especially Black people, are acutely aware of just through life experience, but something I think that white people have a really hard time understanding much less acknowledging.
This is the reason that Black culture is a real thing, created out of something artificial, and 'white culture' isn't a real thing, and it's why I think a lot of people find the 'colorblind' approach to racial justice...annoying (?) to say the least.
Though this pointed exploration of race and power dynamics is what makes up the strong backbone of arguably the entire novel, much of the emotional core comes from how much of a love letter from Lamming to Barbados this is.
His descriptions of the island and its nature and his portraits of the villagers are rendered in loving detail, from the scenes of the kids chasing crabs down by the beach, to them just walking through the village and encountering its people, an extended description of the narrator's mother cooking his final meal before he leaves for Trinidad. It's all just absolutely lovely.
Because of this heavy use of vignette, the 'plot' as such doesn't follow traditional pacing, which, if you go in expecting that will make it feel like things are just dragging along without anything much actually happening until the last third, but if you're willing to meander and just sort of exist from scene to scene, I think it's an incredibly rewarding reading experience.
Highly, highly recommend.
November 1, 2017
"The earth were I walked was a marvel of blackness and I knew in a sense more deep than simple departure, I had said farewell, farewell to the land." Beautiful novel. I took a lot of time in finishing it, close to two months but it's only after chapter 7 that you really connect with this one. This novel marks your arrival into Caribbean fiction. ♡
July 19, 2023
DNF 🙅🏻♀️ did not enjoy
September 29, 2024
The poetic language definitely makes for a slower more intentional read, but overall it was a great book. It’s a narrative told through the lens of a young boy from Barbados as he grows up in the aftermath of imperialism and into an era of change. Lamming has a way of detailing nostalgia and the sickening feeling of seeing things for the last time. Wonderful book:)
May 2, 2023
Not my favorite writing style
June 4, 2025
O Caribe é aqui do lado, mas o quão pouco sabemos sobre e muitas vezes nem reconhecemos a sua existência. Assim é Barbados, o meu 11° sorteado. Confesso que fui confirmar sua existência como país e não algum protetorado.
No castelo da minha pele: a infância caribenha diante do colapso colonial
Em In the Castle of My Skin, George Lamming nos conduz por uma jornada de nove anos na vida de G., um menino negro que cresce em uma vila rural de Barbados durante os anos 1930 e 1940, um tempo de transição social, tensão política e resquícios vivos da era colonial. A vila, com seus personagens, memórias, festas, chuvas e silêncios, se torna o cenário íntimo do amadurecimento do narrador, enquanto o mundo ao seu redor se transforma irreversivelmente. Com uma escrita lírica, reflexiva e melancólica, Lamming entrelaça o crescimento individual ao desmoronamento de uma ordem social, num romance que é tanto um rito de passagem quanto uma elegia ao fim de uma era.
Barbados, país insular do Caribe com pouco mais de 430 km², foi uma das primeiras e mais duradouras colônias britânicas na região. Colonizada oficialmente em 1627 e mantida sob controle da Coroa até 1966, a ilha tornou-se um centro da produção açucareira escravocrata, com uma elite branca proprietária de terras e uma maioria negra submetida à exploração. A abolição da escravidão em 1834 não significou igualdade: as estruturas coloniais de dominação racial, econômica e simbólica permaneceram firmemente arraigadas.
Durante o século XX, movimentos sociais, greves e uma crescente consciência negra e caribenha começaram a questionar esse legado. A independência formal de Barbados em 1966 foi o ponto culminante de um processo longo, mas a herança colonial permaneceu entranhada na educação, na terra, na linguagem e na subjetividade das pessoas. Lamming sabe bem disso e conta numa introdução da versão mais atual do livro, escrita em 1983.
É nesse contexto que se inscreve In the Castle of My Skin, publicado em 1953, treze anos antes da independência do país. O romance é um testemunho literário da transição entre dois mundos: o da Barbados colonial, ainda marcada pela hierarquia de cor e pelo domínio da terra por brancos, e o da promessa (ou ilusão) de uma identidade nacional negra e caribenha autônoma.
In the Castle of My Skin é um bildungsroman, uma narrativa de formação, mas profundamente marcada pela condição colonial. G., o narrador, atravessa a infância e a adolescência enquanto observa o lento colapso da comunidade em que vive. A vila onde cresceu, que parecia eterna, começa a mudar: as terras são vendidas, os vizinhos partem, as amizades se transformam, a política penetra no cotidiano. Ao final, resta apenas a memória, e o narrador, agora à beira da idade adulta, contempla a perda de um mundo.
A estrutura do romance não segue uma linha de enredo tradicional, com clímax e resolução. Em vez disso, há uma sucessão de vinhetas, diálogos, monólogos interiores e narrativas coletivas que constroem uma tapeçaria rica e lírica. A nostalgia perpassa toda a obra, não como saudade de um tempo idealizado, mas como consciência dolorosa de que o que havia, mesmo que limitado e opressivo, está se desfazendo.
Lamming articula, assim, uma estética da transição, onde o tempo é sentido em camadas, e o amadurecimento do indivíduo coincide com o esfacelamento de uma estrutura social.
Um dos temas centrais da obra é a condição do negro em uma sociedade organizada ainda segundo os princípios da escravidão e do colonialismo. Embora a escravidão tenha sido abolida há cem anos, os personagens negros de Lamming vivem em um mundo profundamente desigual: a terra pertence aos brancos; a educação é dominada por valores europeus; as possibilidades de mobilidade social são mínimas; e o autoentendimento dos sujeitos negros é marcado pela exclusão.
A escola, por exemplo, aparece no romance como um espaço de tensão. Embora ofereça acesso ao conhecimento e à escrita, ela também é um aparelho de assimilação cultural. O que se aprende são os poetas britânicos, a geografia da Inglaterra, a gramática do império. É apenas mais tarde que G. começa a perceber o abismo entre o que vive e o que aprende, entre sua experiência caribenha e a formação colonial.
A cor da pele, os nomes, os modos de falar e de andar: tudo é regulado por uma lógica racial que naturaliza a inferioridade do negro. Há passagens comoventes em que os personagens lutam para entender seu lugar no mundo, especialmente os homens jovens, divididos entre a resignação e a revolta, entre a linguagem herdada e a urgência de encontrar uma voz própria.
O colonialismo em In the Castle of My Skin não aparece apenas como estrutura externa de dominação, mas como força interna de desintegração subjetiva. Os personagens vivem em um mundo onde são constantemente lembrados de sua inferioridade, onde não possuem a terra que habitam, nem a história que contam.
A venda da vila, que ocorre ao longo do livro, é símbolo desse deslocamento: a terra é retirada daqueles que nela nasceram. O senhor branco da propriedade, praticamente ausente, tem mais poder sobre o destino da vila do que todos os moradores juntos. Essa expropriação é um retrato da realidade caribenha, onde a terra, mesmo após a abolição, permaneceu sob controle da minoria branca.
Mr. Slime, o ex-professor que se transforma em político, é uma figura ambígua que representa tanto a esperança de mudança quanto a reprodução das velhas práticas. Sua ascensão mostra que, mesmo entre os negros, a lógica da dominação pode se reproduzir, especialmente quando a política se separa da ética comunitária.
Um dos grandes méritos do romance é a construção da vila como personagem coletiva. As casas, as festas, os banhos de mar, as brincadeiras infantis, as conversas entre vizinhos: tudo é retratado com lirismo e atenção. Ao mesmo tempo, há uma percepção clara de que a vila está sob ameaça. Os conflitos internos aumentam, as desconfianças se multiplicam, a violência irrompe.
Lamming não idealiza a comunidade, mas tampouco a descarta. Ele a apresenta em sua complexidade: como espaço de acolhimento e de opressão, de solidariedade e de desagregação. A destruição da vila não é apenas um fato externo, mas uma perda íntima. O narrador sente, ao final, que algo essencial se foi, não apenas a infância, mas um modo de viver e de imaginar o mundo.
A busca por uma identidade caribenha perpassa toda a narrativa. O narrador é um menino que observa, escuta, registra, mas que demora a encontrar sua voz. Há momentos em que a linguagem poética toma o primeiro plano. Lamming experimenta com a forma, alternando vozes narrativas, inserindo diálogos polifônicos e monólogos densos. Essa fluidez narrativa espelha o próprio processo de constituição identitária: fragmentado, em construção, múltiplo.
O título do romance, In the Castle of My Skin, resume esse percurso: o castelo, símbolo de proteção e isolamento, está na pele, isto é, na cor, na história inscrita no corpo negro. Ao mesmo tempo, o castelo é também prisão e casa, defesa e limite. Viver na própria pele, para o narrador, é reconhecer tanto o fardo quanto a possibilidade de se reinventar.
In the Castle of My Skin é, em última instância, um exercício de luto ativo: o livro é a tentativa de compreender e narrar a perda de um mundo. A vila não existe mais, os amigos se foram, a infância passou. Mas ao contar essa história, o narrador afirma sua existência, sua voz, sua memória.
George Lamming nos oferece, assim, não apenas uma narrativa de formação, mas um marco da literatura pós-colonial. Seu romance é um gesto de resistência contra o apagamento, uma construção cuidadosa de uma sensibilidade caribenha autêntica, e um convite à reflexão sobre o que significa crescer em meio à ruína de um império.
In the Castle of My Skin de George Lamming. Grã Bretanha: Penguin Classics, 2016. 340p.
No castelo da minha pele: a infância caribenha diante do colapso colonial
Em In the Castle of My Skin, George Lamming nos conduz por uma jornada de nove anos na vida de G., um menino negro que cresce em uma vila rural de Barbados durante os anos 1930 e 1940, um tempo de transição social, tensão política e resquícios vivos da era colonial. A vila, com seus personagens, memórias, festas, chuvas e silêncios, se torna o cenário íntimo do amadurecimento do narrador, enquanto o mundo ao seu redor se transforma irreversivelmente. Com uma escrita lírica, reflexiva e melancólica, Lamming entrelaça o crescimento individual ao desmoronamento de uma ordem social, num romance que é tanto um rito de passagem quanto uma elegia ao fim de uma era.
Barbados, país insular do Caribe com pouco mais de 430 km², foi uma das primeiras e mais duradouras colônias britânicas na região. Colonizada oficialmente em 1627 e mantida sob controle da Coroa até 1966, a ilha tornou-se um centro da produção açucareira escravocrata, com uma elite branca proprietária de terras e uma maioria negra submetida à exploração. A abolição da escravidão em 1834 não significou igualdade: as estruturas coloniais de dominação racial, econômica e simbólica permaneceram firmemente arraigadas.
Durante o século XX, movimentos sociais, greves e uma crescente consciência negra e caribenha começaram a questionar esse legado. A independência formal de Barbados em 1966 foi o ponto culminante de um processo longo, mas a herança colonial permaneceu entranhada na educação, na terra, na linguagem e na subjetividade das pessoas. Lamming sabe bem disso e conta numa introdução da versão mais atual do livro, escrita em 1983.
É nesse contexto que se inscreve In the Castle of My Skin, publicado em 1953, treze anos antes da independência do país. O romance é um testemunho literário da transição entre dois mundos: o da Barbados colonial, ainda marcada pela hierarquia de cor e pelo domínio da terra por brancos, e o da promessa (ou ilusão) de uma identidade nacional negra e caribenha autônoma.
In the Castle of My Skin é um bildungsroman, uma narrativa de formação, mas profundamente marcada pela condição colonial. G., o narrador, atravessa a infância e a adolescência enquanto observa o lento colapso da comunidade em que vive. A vila onde cresceu, que parecia eterna, começa a mudar: as terras são vendidas, os vizinhos partem, as amizades se transformam, a política penetra no cotidiano. Ao final, resta apenas a memória, e o narrador, agora à beira da idade adulta, contempla a perda de um mundo.
A estrutura do romance não segue uma linha de enredo tradicional, com clímax e resolução. Em vez disso, há uma sucessão de vinhetas, diálogos, monólogos interiores e narrativas coletivas que constroem uma tapeçaria rica e lírica. A nostalgia perpassa toda a obra, não como saudade de um tempo idealizado, mas como consciência dolorosa de que o que havia, mesmo que limitado e opressivo, está se desfazendo.
Lamming articula, assim, uma estética da transição, onde o tempo é sentido em camadas, e o amadurecimento do indivíduo coincide com o esfacelamento de uma estrutura social.
Um dos temas centrais da obra é a condição do negro em uma sociedade organizada ainda segundo os princípios da escravidão e do colonialismo. Embora a escravidão tenha sido abolida há cem anos, os personagens negros de Lamming vivem em um mundo profundamente desigual: a terra pertence aos brancos; a educação é dominada por valores europeus; as possibilidades de mobilidade social são mínimas; e o autoentendimento dos sujeitos negros é marcado pela exclusão.
A escola, por exemplo, aparece no romance como um espaço de tensão. Embora ofereça acesso ao conhecimento e à escrita, ela também é um aparelho de assimilação cultural. O que se aprende são os poetas britânicos, a geografia da Inglaterra, a gramática do império. É apenas mais tarde que G. começa a perceber o abismo entre o que vive e o que aprende, entre sua experiência caribenha e a formação colonial.
A cor da pele, os nomes, os modos de falar e de andar: tudo é regulado por uma lógica racial que naturaliza a inferioridade do negro. Há passagens comoventes em que os personagens lutam para entender seu lugar no mundo, especialmente os homens jovens, divididos entre a resignação e a revolta, entre a linguagem herdada e a urgência de encontrar uma voz própria.
O colonialismo em In the Castle of My Skin não aparece apenas como estrutura externa de dominação, mas como força interna de desintegração subjetiva. Os personagens vivem em um mundo onde são constantemente lembrados de sua inferioridade, onde não possuem a terra que habitam, nem a história que contam.
A venda da vila, que ocorre ao longo do livro, é símbolo desse deslocamento: a terra é retirada daqueles que nela nasceram. O senhor branco da propriedade, praticamente ausente, tem mais poder sobre o destino da vila do que todos os moradores juntos. Essa expropriação é um retrato da realidade caribenha, onde a terra, mesmo após a abolição, permaneceu sob controle da minoria branca.
Mr. Slime, o ex-professor que se transforma em político, é uma figura ambígua que representa tanto a esperança de mudança quanto a reprodução das velhas práticas. Sua ascensão mostra que, mesmo entre os negros, a lógica da dominação pode se reproduzir, especialmente quando a política se separa da ética comunitária.
Um dos grandes méritos do romance é a construção da vila como personagem coletiva. As casas, as festas, os banhos de mar, as brincadeiras infantis, as conversas entre vizinhos: tudo é retratado com lirismo e atenção. Ao mesmo tempo, há uma percepção clara de que a vila está sob ameaça. Os conflitos internos aumentam, as desconfianças se multiplicam, a violência irrompe.
Lamming não idealiza a comunidade, mas tampouco a descarta. Ele a apresenta em sua complexidade: como espaço de acolhimento e de opressão, de solidariedade e de desagregação. A destruição da vila não é apenas um fato externo, mas uma perda íntima. O narrador sente, ao final, que algo essencial se foi, não apenas a infância, mas um modo de viver e de imaginar o mundo.
A busca por uma identidade caribenha perpassa toda a narrativa. O narrador é um menino que observa, escuta, registra, mas que demora a encontrar sua voz. Há momentos em que a linguagem poética toma o primeiro plano. Lamming experimenta com a forma, alternando vozes narrativas, inserindo diálogos polifônicos e monólogos densos. Essa fluidez narrativa espelha o próprio processo de constituição identitária: fragmentado, em construção, múltiplo.
O título do romance, In the Castle of My Skin, resume esse percurso: o castelo, símbolo de proteção e isolamento, está na pele, isto é, na cor, na história inscrita no corpo negro. Ao mesmo tempo, o castelo é também prisão e casa, defesa e limite. Viver na própria pele, para o narrador, é reconhecer tanto o fardo quanto a possibilidade de se reinventar.
In the Castle of My Skin é, em última instância, um exercício de luto ativo: o livro é a tentativa de compreender e narrar a perda de um mundo. A vila não existe mais, os amigos se foram, a infância passou. Mas ao contar essa história, o narrador afirma sua existência, sua voz, sua memória.
George Lamming nos oferece, assim, não apenas uma narrativa de formação, mas um marco da literatura pós-colonial. Seu romance é um gesto de resistência contra o apagamento, uma construção cuidadosa de uma sensibilidade caribenha autêntica, e um convite à reflexão sobre o que significa crescer em meio à ruína de um império.
In the Castle of My Skin de George Lamming. Grã Bretanha: Penguin Classics, 2016. 340p.
October 27, 2013
"In the Castle of my Skin" was a real slow read. I had to literally drag myself through the pages. However, Lamming writes of the subtle issues of how colonization paved its way into the orient nations (here,the nation is Barbados). The novel is a deviant from the usual novel form of that of the Europeans. It is probably because, Lamming was experimenting with the novel writing form. And the language entails the 'post-colonial' confusion period, may be this is way the novel does not run on a linear line. In order to make connections with the different episodes of the novel, one must give the novel an attentive reading, otherwise one may miss out on the little nuances of what Lamming is trying to tell in his novel.
September 23, 2020
It is hard to believe how young Lamming was when he wrote this assured and complex novel. The style feels theatrical, with long enclosed scenes focused on dialogue (or internal monologue) that is often repetitive and obsessive, in a way that builds intensity and even claustrophobia; the events of a chapter are in some cases only clear towards the end, leaving the reader disorientated - claustrophobia and disorientation are of course key themes.
There is a lot to say about this book that other reviewers have expressed more eloquently than I could so I won't try.
I would recommend to readers with plenty of time to hand - it isn't that long but requires a lot of focus, but I do think it is worth it.
There is a lot to say about this book that other reviewers have expressed more eloquently than I could so I won't try.
I would recommend to readers with plenty of time to hand - it isn't that long but requires a lot of focus, but I do think it is worth it.
January 10, 2021
Took me a long time to read it but it is understandable. It took me some 100 pages to even start getting interested in the story. It broke my heart. I am not a fan of how it is written but I cannot deny that it is beautiful writing. The issues the book deals with (colonization and social change) are issues I am deeply invested in and maybe that is why I felt so much anger towards the sheer injustice to people throughout the book.
Anyway, it was a good read. I am glad I read it.
Anyway, it was a good read. I am glad I read it.
March 5, 2008
I was the only person in my freshman year lit class to like this book. One of my oldest and dearest friends from this class still makes fun of me for it.
Read
August 2, 2011took me quite a while to get into it, but once I did, was glad I persevered...
August 11, 2021
One of the comments made by the reviewer of George Lamming’s work, V. S. Pritchett was: “We are in the heart of a coloured or half-coloured community, sharing its sudden, unreasonable passions… its naïve illusions about the world outside” (qtd. in Brown 681). I believe that as many ambitious novels, In The Castle of My Skin is challenging to read and touches compound structures of meanings to decode. Coming of age novels often present sentiments common for all adults as they refer to certain nostalgy. In George Lamming’s case it is not that simple to interpret the novel especially if one comes from Commonwealth culture. Firstly, as the author analyses in The Pleasures of Exile (229), living in a colonial reality means to be detached from his own origin culture by imperialism. Caribbean people are mostly descendants of captive Africans and to many of them that continent is very close to their heart. In common speech, exile does indeed mean a physical absence being banned or unable to return to one’s land. David W. Hart defines this interior exile which might constitute "either an intellectual turn away from home or an emotional turn inward to the self" (qtd. in Wheat 5). G. is on a mental exile from his sense of belonging. As he grows older he detaches himself from his village and leaves to Trinidad. Meanwhile Trumper returns from the United States for a visit. Young men discuss the difference in reality and perspective of seeing oneself:
There ain’t no “man” an’ there ain’t no “people.” Just nigger an’ Negro. An’ little as that seem ‘tis a tremendous difference. It make a tremendous difference not to the whites but the blacks. ‘Tis the blacks who get affected by leavin’ out that word “man” or “people.” That’s how we learn the race. ‘Tis what a word can do. Now there ain’t a black man in all America who won’t get up and an’ say I’m a Negro an’ I’m proud of it. We all are proud of it.” (289)
It appears that the reality narrows down to the point of how an individual thinks about oneself. The feeling of inferiority might dictate one’s possibilities by limiting personal ambitions as well as potential. I perceive In The Castle of My Skin as a very intellectually stimulating and I believe that V. S. Pritchett’s impression lacks certain ability of co-feeling. The consciousness of all the unknown ahead existing might be at times paralysing as it requires to leave one’s known behind. This is the reason why the cultivation of one’s value and origin is essential for self-growth and being honest with oneself in accordance to one’s believes. In a larger spectrum it refers to the rebirth of the nation after colonialism. Calypso Rose, Trinidad musician when singing her beautiful song Calypso Blues reminds Caribbean women of their beauty and authenticity encouraging them not to be afraid of identifying with their culture not following foreign trends:
Dese yankee girl give me big scare,
Is black de root, is blonde de hair.
Her eyelash false, her face is paint,
And pads are where de girl she ain't
She jitterbug when she should waltz,
I even think her name is false.
But calypso girl is good a lot,
Is what you see, is what she got. (2:15)
Brown, Dillon J. “Exile and Cunning: The Tactical Difficulties of George Lamming.” Contemporary Literature, vol. 47, no. 4, 2006, pp. 669-694.
Calypso Rose. Calypso Blues. YouTube, uploaded by Calypso Rose, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPQ0P...
Lamming, George. In The Castle of My Skin. Longman, 1987.
Lamming, George. The Pleasures of Exile. University of Michigan Press, 1992.
Wheat, Celeste A . “Examining Colonialism and Exile in George Lamming's In the Castle of My Skin (1953), The Emigrants (1954), and The Pleasures of Exile (1960) Journal of Colonialism & Colonial History”. Baltimore, vol. 10, no. 3, 2009.
There ain’t no “man” an’ there ain’t no “people.” Just nigger an’ Negro. An’ little as that seem ‘tis a tremendous difference. It make a tremendous difference not to the whites but the blacks. ‘Tis the blacks who get affected by leavin’ out that word “man” or “people.” That’s how we learn the race. ‘Tis what a word can do. Now there ain’t a black man in all America who won’t get up and an’ say I’m a Negro an’ I’m proud of it. We all are proud of it.” (289)
It appears that the reality narrows down to the point of how an individual thinks about oneself. The feeling of inferiority might dictate one’s possibilities by limiting personal ambitions as well as potential. I perceive In The Castle of My Skin as a very intellectually stimulating and I believe that V. S. Pritchett’s impression lacks certain ability of co-feeling. The consciousness of all the unknown ahead existing might be at times paralysing as it requires to leave one’s known behind. This is the reason why the cultivation of one’s value and origin is essential for self-growth and being honest with oneself in accordance to one’s believes. In a larger spectrum it refers to the rebirth of the nation after colonialism. Calypso Rose, Trinidad musician when singing her beautiful song Calypso Blues reminds Caribbean women of their beauty and authenticity encouraging them not to be afraid of identifying with their culture not following foreign trends:
Dese yankee girl give me big scare,
Is black de root, is blonde de hair.
Her eyelash false, her face is paint,
And pads are where de girl she ain't
She jitterbug when she should waltz,
I even think her name is false.
But calypso girl is good a lot,
Is what you see, is what she got. (2:15)
Brown, Dillon J. “Exile and Cunning: The Tactical Difficulties of George Lamming.” Contemporary Literature, vol. 47, no. 4, 2006, pp. 669-694.
Calypso Rose. Calypso Blues. YouTube, uploaded by Calypso Rose, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPQ0P...
Lamming, George. In The Castle of My Skin. Longman, 1987.
Lamming, George. The Pleasures of Exile. University of Michigan Press, 1992.
Wheat, Celeste A . “Examining Colonialism and Exile in George Lamming's In the Castle of My Skin (1953), The Emigrants (1954), and The Pleasures of Exile (1960) Journal of Colonialism & Colonial History”. Baltimore, vol. 10, no. 3, 2009.
July 20, 2020
This book has taken me a long time to read. It's beautifully written with very rich language and you definitely need to designate some time to this when you’re not too tired to read. Set in Barbados in the 1930’s it follows the childhood of a poor village boy during a time of historical evolution. It details the escapades of a boy and his 4 friends through their rambles on the beach, laying pennies on the train tracks to make knifes, somewhat brutal school life, through to their separation as teenagers as they follow different paths in education and adventures.
Narratively it is quite unique. Sometimes the story is told via the main character, sometimes we see the story through some of the other characters in the village, those of the oldest in the village, Ma and Pa are particularly poignant. Some of the chapters are short conversations, whilst others can be 50 pages of quite intense and descriptive language of an event in time.
It highlights the post-colonial Barbados. People are no longer slaves, but they rent their land from the landlord Creighton, one of the few remaining white people in the community. You see an unrest amongst the people, with first strikes and then riots, mostly from the perspective of the villagers. There is a desire from them to maintain the status quo, to continue living in the ways they are accustomed to, whilst the children are more interested in being involved in the riots, though they fear the consequences.
By the end of the book the boy is 17 and about to emigrate to Trinidad as a teacher. One of his friends, Trumper, returns from America. Although he is full of tales of the riches and amazing sights and sounds of America, he talks about how he is, for the first time, made aware of his race. In Jamaica he has always been aware that he was a black man, but in America that is what he is defined as, what all black men are defined as, no matter where they come from, “They suffer in a way we don’t know here. We can’t understan’ it here an’ we never will. But their sufferin' teach then what we here won’t ever know. The Race, our people”. In light of the Black lives Matter movement I found this a very insightful comment.
Narratively it is quite unique. Sometimes the story is told via the main character, sometimes we see the story through some of the other characters in the village, those of the oldest in the village, Ma and Pa are particularly poignant. Some of the chapters are short conversations, whilst others can be 50 pages of quite intense and descriptive language of an event in time.
It highlights the post-colonial Barbados. People are no longer slaves, but they rent their land from the landlord Creighton, one of the few remaining white people in the community. You see an unrest amongst the people, with first strikes and then riots, mostly from the perspective of the villagers. There is a desire from them to maintain the status quo, to continue living in the ways they are accustomed to, whilst the children are more interested in being involved in the riots, though they fear the consequences.
By the end of the book the boy is 17 and about to emigrate to Trinidad as a teacher. One of his friends, Trumper, returns from America. Although he is full of tales of the riches and amazing sights and sounds of America, he talks about how he is, for the first time, made aware of his race. In Jamaica he has always been aware that he was a black man, but in America that is what he is defined as, what all black men are defined as, no matter where they come from, “They suffer in a way we don’t know here. We can’t understan’ it here an’ we never will. But their sufferin' teach then what we here won’t ever know. The Race, our people”. In light of the Black lives Matter movement I found this a very insightful comment.
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