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L'homme qui meurt
États-Unis, années 1960. Au sommet de sa carrière, l’acteur noir américain Leo Proudhammer est terrassé par une crise cardiaque. Alors qu’il oscille entre la vie et la mort, il se remémore les choix qui l’ont rendu célèbre mais aussi terriblement vulnérable. De son enfance dans les rues de Harlem à son entrée dans le monde du théâtre, l’existence de Leo est déchirée par le désir et la perte, la honte et la rage : un frère qui disparaît, une liaison avec une femme blanche… Toujours affleure l’angoisse d’être noir dans une société au bord de la guerre raciale.
Dans ce roman tendre et passionné, James Baldwin a créé l’un de ses personnages les plus bouleversants : un homme qui a du mal à devenir lui-même. Écrit en 1968, L’homme qui meurt est devenu une œuvre majeure de la littérature américaine.
576 pages, sous couverture illustrée, 108 x 178 mm
Dans ce roman tendre et passionné, James Baldwin a créé l’un de ses personnages les plus bouleversants : un homme qui a du mal à devenir lui-même. Écrit en 1968, L’homme qui meurt est devenu une œuvre majeure de la littérature américaine.
576 pages, sous couverture illustrée, 108 x 178 mm
576 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1968
479 people are currently reading
14913 people want to read
About the author
James Baldwin
385 books16.8k followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
Works of American writer James Arthur Baldwin, outspoken critic of racism, include Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953), a novel, and Notes of a Native Son (1955), a collection of essays.
James Arthur Baldwin authored plays and poems in society.
He came as the eldest of nine children; his stepfather served as a minister. At 14 years of age in 1938, Baldwin preached at the small fireside Pentecostal church in Harlem. From religion in the early 1940s, he transferred his faith to literature with the still evident impassioned cadences of black churches. From 1948, Baldwin made his home primarily in the south of France but often returned to the United States of America to lecture or to teach.
In his Giovanni's Room, a white American expatriate must come to terms with his homosexuality. In 1957, he began spending half of each year in city of New York.
James Baldwin offered a vital literary voice during the era of civil rights activism in the 1950s and 1960s.
He first partially autobiographically accounted his youth. His influential Nobody Knows My Name and The Fire Next Time informed a large white audience. Another Country talks about gay sexual tensions among intellectuals of New York. Segments of the black nationalist community savaged his gay themes. Eldridge Cleaver of the Black Panthers stated the Baldwin displayed an "agonizing, total hatred of blacks." People produced Blues for Mister Charlie , play of Baldwin, in 1964. Huey Newton, co-founder of the Black Panther Party, defended Baldwin.
Going to Meet the Man and Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone provided powerful descriptions. He as an openly gay man increasingly in condemned discrimination against lesbian persons.
From stomach cancer, Baldwin died in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, France. People buried his body at the Ferncliff cemetery in Hartsdale near city of New York.
Works of American writer James Arthur Baldwin, outspoken critic of racism, include Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953), a novel, and Notes of a Native Son (1955), a collection of essays.
James Arthur Baldwin authored plays and poems in society.
He came as the eldest of nine children; his stepfather served as a minister. At 14 years of age in 1938, Baldwin preached at the small fireside Pentecostal church in Harlem. From religion in the early 1940s, he transferred his faith to literature with the still evident impassioned cadences of black churches. From 1948, Baldwin made his home primarily in the south of France but often returned to the United States of America to lecture or to teach.
In his Giovanni's Room, a white American expatriate must come to terms with his homosexuality. In 1957, he began spending half of each year in city of New York.
James Baldwin offered a vital literary voice during the era of civil rights activism in the 1950s and 1960s.
He first partially autobiographically accounted his youth. His influential Nobody Knows My Name and The Fire Next Time informed a large white audience. Another Country talks about gay sexual tensions among intellectuals of New York. Segments of the black nationalist community savaged his gay themes. Eldridge Cleaver of the Black Panthers stated the Baldwin displayed an "agonizing, total hatred of blacks." People produced Blues for Mister Charlie , play of Baldwin, in 1964. Huey Newton, co-founder of the Black Panther Party, defended Baldwin.
Going to Meet the Man and Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone provided powerful descriptions. He as an openly gay man increasingly in condemned discrimination against lesbian persons.
From stomach cancer, Baldwin died in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, France. People buried his body at the Ferncliff cemetery in Hartsdale near city of New York.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 604 reviews
August 8, 2024
Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone is a gorgeous book, as is everything Baldwin writes. Baldwin’s language is of terrifying tenderness and relentless intimacy, and always steals my breath. His writing has a way of eviscerating you before you can notice what has been said. There are sections in this book that dazzled and moved me, others I remember with an almost physical pain. Reading Tell Me, it is impossible to reconcile the novel with its early reception, where it has been largely dismissed and considered as emblematic of Baldwin’s artistic decline. On the contrary, I think Baldwin has produced in this book one of his sharpest and most clear-eyed critiques of patriarchy, sexuality, and oppressive forms of masculinity.
Leo Proudhammer, a successful stage actor, has had a heart attack in San Francisco. In the aftermath, Leo meditates on what he has been and what he has become. The novel toggles beautifully between the past and the present, to capture Leo’s struggle for alternative ways of being in the world, capable of carrying the weight of his desperate longing not only to escape the social enclosures that deny him life, but to thrive and not merely survive.
Leo’s quest for selfhood represents the possibilities of Black male subjectivity as a delicate and continuous negotiation between the inward-self and the story constructed and produced of Blackness everywhere in the US and elsewhere. Leo is desperate to rescript his life away from the entangled biographies of violence and annihilation that the judgments, both racist and homophobic, of the culture around him confines him into, and to put together, and shore up, the narrative of his own life. Throughout the novel, one gets a sense of a man glancing at us out of the corner of his eye, very much anxious about the impression his words are making. Leo, an intensely private public man, knows that his body is marked out wherever he goes, its boundaries and limits located and under constant surveillance. For our lonely thespian narrator, the whole world is a stage, and he’s learned to wear an ever-changing mask over his true self as a crucial strategy of survival—and it is in the distance between Leo the actor and Leo the person that Leo’s identity emerges.
Baldwin works the processes of self-definition and self-creation from a place that is deeply knowing about the tyrannies of anti-Blackness and social ascription. In this novel, he grapples at close quarters with what it means to be borne on the sharp currents of a world that allows you so little, what it means to live with the constant oppression of terror. The white world is never far from Leo’s consciousness: in his life, at work, with his intimates, he is constantly forced into subservient roles.
Leo’s relationship with his older brother, which is life’s codex, is ripped open by violence and social injustice, and a young Leo was forced to live on the far side of the gulf stretching between them, which neither he nor his brother can cross. The loss of his brother ran Leo into adulthood before he was ready. It was the rip that opened so many endless chasms, the moment of breakdown. It is these pages, in which Baldwin conjures the pure strength of the tenderness and grief that exists between the two brothers, that filled me with the most special anguish—and which I reread the most. Leo’s subsequent affair with his white lover Barbara, however deeply loving and genuine, was no palliative for such oppression. Barbara’s whiteness is a threat to Leo, a fact that keeps tugging them apart. Even his later involvement with Christopher, a young Black radical, cannot placate the internal disarray Leo feels, a dislocation that stems from Leo’s abiding struggle between his artistic role, his celebrity, and his social obligations as a racial spokesman. Underlying this chapter of Leo’s life is Baldwin’s own struggle to reconcile his fame as a race spokesperson of Black people—for white America.
In conjoining the intensity of desire and disillusionment, Baldwin reveals the truths of power, uncorrupted by sentiment and feints at innocence, and illuminates both the utter difficulty and utter necessity of imagining our relationships to each other, our entanglements and obligations of care, as crucial sites for forming resistant identities. Ultimately, Baldwin’s novel is motivated by a deep urge to inhabit, act out, and circulate new meanings of radicalism and protest, meanings that engage critically with institutions of heterosexuality, whiteness, religion, and family, and strive to expand the horizon of possibility for new and better worlds.
Leo Proudhammer, a successful stage actor, has had a heart attack in San Francisco. In the aftermath, Leo meditates on what he has been and what he has become. The novel toggles beautifully between the past and the present, to capture Leo’s struggle for alternative ways of being in the world, capable of carrying the weight of his desperate longing not only to escape the social enclosures that deny him life, but to thrive and not merely survive.
Leo’s quest for selfhood represents the possibilities of Black male subjectivity as a delicate and continuous negotiation between the inward-self and the story constructed and produced of Blackness everywhere in the US and elsewhere. Leo is desperate to rescript his life away from the entangled biographies of violence and annihilation that the judgments, both racist and homophobic, of the culture around him confines him into, and to put together, and shore up, the narrative of his own life. Throughout the novel, one gets a sense of a man glancing at us out of the corner of his eye, very much anxious about the impression his words are making. Leo, an intensely private public man, knows that his body is marked out wherever he goes, its boundaries and limits located and under constant surveillance. For our lonely thespian narrator, the whole world is a stage, and he’s learned to wear an ever-changing mask over his true self as a crucial strategy of survival—and it is in the distance between Leo the actor and Leo the person that Leo’s identity emerges.
Baldwin works the processes of self-definition and self-creation from a place that is deeply knowing about the tyrannies of anti-Blackness and social ascription. In this novel, he grapples at close quarters with what it means to be borne on the sharp currents of a world that allows you so little, what it means to live with the constant oppression of terror. The white world is never far from Leo’s consciousness: in his life, at work, with his intimates, he is constantly forced into subservient roles.
Leo’s relationship with his older brother, which is life’s codex, is ripped open by violence and social injustice, and a young Leo was forced to live on the far side of the gulf stretching between them, which neither he nor his brother can cross. The loss of his brother ran Leo into adulthood before he was ready. It was the rip that opened so many endless chasms, the moment of breakdown. It is these pages, in which Baldwin conjures the pure strength of the tenderness and grief that exists between the two brothers, that filled me with the most special anguish—and which I reread the most. Leo’s subsequent affair with his white lover Barbara, however deeply loving and genuine, was no palliative for such oppression. Barbara’s whiteness is a threat to Leo, a fact that keeps tugging them apart. Even his later involvement with Christopher, a young Black radical, cannot placate the internal disarray Leo feels, a dislocation that stems from Leo’s abiding struggle between his artistic role, his celebrity, and his social obligations as a racial spokesman. Underlying this chapter of Leo’s life is Baldwin’s own struggle to reconcile his fame as a race spokesperson of Black people—for white America.
In conjoining the intensity of desire and disillusionment, Baldwin reveals the truths of power, uncorrupted by sentiment and feints at innocence, and illuminates both the utter difficulty and utter necessity of imagining our relationships to each other, our entanglements and obligations of care, as crucial sites for forming resistant identities. Ultimately, Baldwin’s novel is motivated by a deep urge to inhabit, act out, and circulate new meanings of radicalism and protest, meanings that engage critically with institutions of heterosexuality, whiteness, religion, and family, and strive to expand the horizon of possibility for new and better worlds.
September 26, 2025
"In all the great, vast dirty world, he trusted the love of one person only, his brother- his brother who was in his arms" (209).
Reading protagonist actor Leo Proudhammer's beautifully rendered and angry meditation on race, incest, and sexually ambiguous and polyamorous relationships packed quite a wallop, and quite frankly shook me.
The novel shifts from Leo's brush with death after suffering a heart attack backstage during a performance; his life flashes before his eyes remembering the three people he loved most: His adored older brother, Caleb who is jailed and later becomes a preacher; his younger lover, "Black" Christopher and his white ex-girlfriend Barbara, whom is his closest confidante.
One of the most affecting scenes is an intimate moment between Caleb and Leo, "I held my brother very close, I kissed him and caressed him and I felt a pain and wonder I had never felt before. My brother's heart was broken" (Baldwin 211).
With a sentence like this- it is no wonder Baldwin would become one of the greatest writers who ever lived, and his talent and pain all dredged up into this thing called literature, this thing called art. It's simply marvelous. And it's also just plain heartbreaking.
Baldwin writes of Leo and Caleb's incestuous affair with grace, dignity and grit; as well with hope that he one day might find happiness amidst the anger and desire to get out of the hopelessness that many young black men felt during the 1950s and 60s.
Reading protagonist actor Leo Proudhammer's beautifully rendered and angry meditation on race, incest, and sexually ambiguous and polyamorous relationships packed quite a wallop, and quite frankly shook me.
The novel shifts from Leo's brush with death after suffering a heart attack backstage during a performance; his life flashes before his eyes remembering the three people he loved most: His adored older brother, Caleb who is jailed and later becomes a preacher; his younger lover, "Black" Christopher and his white ex-girlfriend Barbara, whom is his closest confidante.
One of the most affecting scenes is an intimate moment between Caleb and Leo, "I held my brother very close, I kissed him and caressed him and I felt a pain and wonder I had never felt before. My brother's heart was broken" (Baldwin 211).
With a sentence like this- it is no wonder Baldwin would become one of the greatest writers who ever lived, and his talent and pain all dredged up into this thing called literature, this thing called art. It's simply marvelous. And it's also just plain heartbreaking.
Baldwin writes of Leo and Caleb's incestuous affair with grace, dignity and grit; as well with hope that he one day might find happiness amidst the anger and desire to get out of the hopelessness that many young black men felt during the 1950s and 60s.
March 29, 2020
"But what, I asked myself, was I to do with her? Love, honor and protect. But these were not among my possibilities. And, since they were not, I felt myself, bitterly, and most unwillingly, holding myself outside her sorrow; holding myself, in fact, outside her love; holding myself beyond the reach of my blasted possibilities."
I borrowed this novel from The James Baldwin Library in New Hampshire and read it over the course of a week, only a walk away from the cabin where Baldwin wrote Another Country; in fact, this novel is similar to Another Country in 'mood' and 'texture.' It is not as lyrical or introspective as his others (I say this as a person with six Baldwin books on her bookshelf). Just Above My Head remains my favorite for style, 'voice', and complexity, but this novel is reminiscent of it. There was something profound about being in his library, being close to all these different versions and translations of him.
And then I came across Mario Puzo's nauseating and condescending 1968 review of this novel and couldn't help but wonder how many novelists' works struggled from this kind of obtuse criticism. How could a critic be so socially unaware and yet so arrogant in this insistence? One sentence in that review states that Baldwin expects the reader to believe that Barbara, a 39-year-old white, rich, beautiful actress remains in love with the main character, Leo, a black, bisexual man (who, by the way, isn't fully 'out' until later). Sorry to say it, Mario, but yes, welcome to his world.
One thing this novel illustrates are the lasting effects of trauma on African American children, trauma as a result of police brutality witnessed or experienced during childhood. Again, I borrow Ralph Ellison's words, which I stated in this review of Invisible Man :"If social protest is antithetical to art, what then shall we make of Goya, Dickens, and Twain?"
I admired the formulation of love in this novel: love as friendship and lust, love as a lifetime bond, love as a barrier that withholds identity crises, love as a shield against the fucked up realities of this cruel world. What I enjoyed about love in this particular James Baldwin novel is that love is hopeful, proud, long-lasting, and doesn't give a damn about the judgement of others or the flaw in its subject. I've intentionally avoided discussing plot here, but if I were to say a thing or two about it, I would say that I didn't think this was as much about Leo, the actor who recovers from a heart attack as he gives retrospective narrative about his alarming childhood and the trauma he experiences, as it is about showing the grit that surfaces from trauma, the determination to succeed, even at the risk of sacrifice; the losing of oneself in order to get what is deserving of one's talent; the alienation of success. This is what Barbara, Leo, and their unconventional life together exemplified and this is one of many reasons I loved this book.
I borrowed this novel from The James Baldwin Library in New Hampshire and read it over the course of a week, only a walk away from the cabin where Baldwin wrote Another Country; in fact, this novel is similar to Another Country in 'mood' and 'texture.' It is not as lyrical or introspective as his others (I say this as a person with six Baldwin books on her bookshelf). Just Above My Head remains my favorite for style, 'voice', and complexity, but this novel is reminiscent of it. There was something profound about being in his library, being close to all these different versions and translations of him.
And then I came across Mario Puzo's nauseating and condescending 1968 review of this novel and couldn't help but wonder how many novelists' works struggled from this kind of obtuse criticism. How could a critic be so socially unaware and yet so arrogant in this insistence? One sentence in that review states that Baldwin expects the reader to believe that Barbara, a 39-year-old white, rich, beautiful actress remains in love with the main character, Leo, a black, bisexual man (who, by the way, isn't fully 'out' until later). Sorry to say it, Mario, but yes, welcome to his world.
One thing this novel illustrates are the lasting effects of trauma on African American children, trauma as a result of police brutality witnessed or experienced during childhood. Again, I borrow Ralph Ellison's words, which I stated in this review of Invisible Man :"If social protest is antithetical to art, what then shall we make of Goya, Dickens, and Twain?"
I admired the formulation of love in this novel: love as friendship and lust, love as a lifetime bond, love as a barrier that withholds identity crises, love as a shield against the fucked up realities of this cruel world. What I enjoyed about love in this particular James Baldwin novel is that love is hopeful, proud, long-lasting, and doesn't give a damn about the judgement of others or the flaw in its subject. I've intentionally avoided discussing plot here, but if I were to say a thing or two about it, I would say that I didn't think this was as much about Leo, the actor who recovers from a heart attack as he gives retrospective narrative about his alarming childhood and the trauma he experiences, as it is about showing the grit that surfaces from trauma, the determination to succeed, even at the risk of sacrifice; the losing of oneself in order to get what is deserving of one's talent; the alienation of success. This is what Barbara, Leo, and their unconventional life together exemplified and this is one of many reasons I loved this book.
January 15, 2018
I was a bit anxious to read this one because lately I've been eagerly declaring that Baldwin (with Stefan Zweig) is my favourite -or at least the most versatile and ahead of his era- writer.
Baldwin's essay collections are sublime and even (or better: certainly) today quintessential reading. But his novels, man! Don't misjudge his scope: he goes way further than the afro-American struggle theme he's famous for. I actually know few writers with such depth and insight in the human psyche and such accurate drawing of real life characters.
My advice on diving into his fiction:
Commence with Giovanni's room,
continue with Another country
and please don't skip Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone. The latter is in some parts a little less lucid and inviting as the others, but what this author does with the English language and storytelling is of another level. The power, anger, love, fear, hope, ambition, all with such a personal and yet universal quality and timbre to it.
It is rare to find a book which you want to savour and devour at the same time: slowly reading line by line tasting it's poetry and urgently turning pages to find out what's ahead.
Next time somebody claims Philip Roth is entitled to winning the Nobel prize, I will ask if he or she read enough Baldwin.
Baldwin's essay collections are sublime and even (or better: certainly) today quintessential reading. But his novels, man! Don't misjudge his scope: he goes way further than the afro-American struggle theme he's famous for. I actually know few writers with such depth and insight in the human psyche and such accurate drawing of real life characters.
My advice on diving into his fiction:
Commence with Giovanni's room,
continue with Another country
and please don't skip Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone. The latter is in some parts a little less lucid and inviting as the others, but what this author does with the English language and storytelling is of another level. The power, anger, love, fear, hope, ambition, all with such a personal and yet universal quality and timbre to it.
It is rare to find a book which you want to savour and devour at the same time: slowly reading line by line tasting it's poetry and urgently turning pages to find out what's ahead.
Next time somebody claims Philip Roth is entitled to winning the Nobel prize, I will ask if he or she read enough Baldwin.
February 25, 2025
As the cover indicates, this is somewhat centered on an interracial relationship that began during WWII when Leo Proudhammer was a teenager. But while that might have been a draw in 1968, it's different from what the book leaves us thinking about. Leo welcomes us to his book as he has a heart attack that began on stage while performing with Barbara, his white long-time partner. There are some oddities in his world and perspective, such as his relationship with his stardom as his doctors and nurses fawn over him. There is no sense of personal empowerment or the kind of confidence you might expect in someone so successful. "You are news. Whatever you do is news. But it does not take long to realize, at least assuming one wishes to live, that to be news is really to be nothing." And then, he looks back and begins to tell his story. He grew up in Harlem, watching his revered older brother go to prison, practically divorcing his loving family to go into show business. The stress, dedication, and wildlife of being an actor without any income in New York City, working all night, rehearsing all day, and doing the crazy things we can do when we're young.
August 3, 2019
Bir dönem ülkemizde de yaşayan, tiyatro oyunları sahneleyen James Baldwin'in son büyük eseri kabul edilen ve kimi otobiyografik öğelerde bulunan Ne Zaman Gitti Treni büyük bir keyifle okudum.
Kitap 40'lı yaşların başında olan büyük tiyatro sanatçısı Leo Proudhammer'in sahnede geçirdiği kalp krizi ile başlıyor. Sonrasında ölümden dönen kahramanınımızı hastane odasında geçmişiyle boğuşurken buluyoruz. Üç bölümden oluşan kitabın Ev Zencisi bölümünde 30'ların Harlem'ine konuk oluyoruz. Siyah bir çocuğun siyah evinde ve siyah sokaklarda geçen bu bölüm, sanatçı kimliğinini yanına eylemci kimliğini de ekleyen Leo' nun Beyaz Amerika'dan nefretinini oluşturduğu anlara tanık ediyor okuru. Polislerin pis beyaz elleri üzerinde nedensizce gezerken 9 yaşındaki çocuk şöyle diyor "tanrıya hepsini öldürmesi için dua ettim. Sonra tanrıdan nefret ettim." Umutsuzluk kokan ve sonu ya hapis ya beyazlara hizmet ile bitecek bu hayattan çıkışı oyunculukta bulan Leo'yu ikinci bölümde Amerika taşrasında aktör eğitim salonunda buluyoruz ki bence kitabın en güçlü yeri burası. Baldwin' in fanonu okuyup okumadığını bilmiyorum ancak Siyah Deri Beyaz Maskeler kitabındaki psikoseksüel tespitler, siyah erkek beyaz kadın ilişkisine dair çok güçlü çıkarımlar Barbara- Leo ikilisinin bilinçaltlarından süzülerek karşımıza çıkıyor. Son bölüm ise sahne yıldızı sokak eylemcisi Leo' nun hastaneden çıkışı ile başlıyor ve sürprizsiz bir sona doğru ilerliyor.
Ne Zaman Gitti Tren sizi metin ya da kurgu olarak şaşırtacak, ters köşe olacağınız bir eser değil, post modern anlatı meftunları için arkaik bir eser bile denebilir. Ancak Amerika'da siyah olmaya, bunun yarattığı fiziki ve psikolojik yıkıma dair okunabilecek duru, yetkin ve içerden bir eser.
Yerini ve sınırlarını kabullenmeyen bu siyah çocuğun Harlem'den zirveye ulaşan kişisel hikayesini, kendi ötekisini öcüleştiren bütün taşralılara, Franz Fanon' un lanetlilerine, " soylu ruhları ırkçı" olmayan beyazlara ve iyi okura öneririm.
Kitap 40'lı yaşların başında olan büyük tiyatro sanatçısı Leo Proudhammer'in sahnede geçirdiği kalp krizi ile başlıyor. Sonrasında ölümden dönen kahramanınımızı hastane odasında geçmişiyle boğuşurken buluyoruz. Üç bölümden oluşan kitabın Ev Zencisi bölümünde 30'ların Harlem'ine konuk oluyoruz. Siyah bir çocuğun siyah evinde ve siyah sokaklarda geçen bu bölüm, sanatçı kimliğinini yanına eylemci kimliğini de ekleyen Leo' nun Beyaz Amerika'dan nefretinini oluşturduğu anlara tanık ediyor okuru. Polislerin pis beyaz elleri üzerinde nedensizce gezerken 9 yaşındaki çocuk şöyle diyor "tanrıya hepsini öldürmesi için dua ettim. Sonra tanrıdan nefret ettim." Umutsuzluk kokan ve sonu ya hapis ya beyazlara hizmet ile bitecek bu hayattan çıkışı oyunculukta bulan Leo'yu ikinci bölümde Amerika taşrasında aktör eğitim salonunda buluyoruz ki bence kitabın en güçlü yeri burası. Baldwin' in fanonu okuyup okumadığını bilmiyorum ancak Siyah Deri Beyaz Maskeler kitabındaki psikoseksüel tespitler, siyah erkek beyaz kadın ilişkisine dair çok güçlü çıkarımlar Barbara- Leo ikilisinin bilinçaltlarından süzülerek karşımıza çıkıyor. Son bölüm ise sahne yıldızı sokak eylemcisi Leo' nun hastaneden çıkışı ile başlıyor ve sürprizsiz bir sona doğru ilerliyor.
Ne Zaman Gitti Tren sizi metin ya da kurgu olarak şaşırtacak, ters köşe olacağınız bir eser değil, post modern anlatı meftunları için arkaik bir eser bile denebilir. Ancak Amerika'da siyah olmaya, bunun yarattığı fiziki ve psikolojik yıkıma dair okunabilecek duru, yetkin ve içerden bir eser.
Yerini ve sınırlarını kabullenmeyen bu siyah çocuğun Harlem'den zirveye ulaşan kişisel hikayesini, kendi ötekisini öcüleştiren bütün taşralılara, Franz Fanon' un lanetlilerine, " soylu ruhları ırkçı" olmayan beyazlara ve iyi okura öneririm.
October 12, 2019
James Baldwin in 1968
My Litsy review:
"I got more and more into this kind of sensitive look at a life from the Harlem streets to fame. It‘s a long slow book, and very intimate. Loneliness takes many forms."
As the cover indicates, this is somewhat centered on an interracial relationship, one that began during WWII when Leo Proudhammer was teenager. But while that might have a been a draw of some kind in 1968, it's not what the book leaves us thinking about. Leo welcomes us to his book as he's having a heart attack that began on stage while he was performing with Barbara, his white long-time partner. There are some oddities in his world, and in his perspective, in his relationship to his own stardom as his doctors and nurses fawn over him. There is no sense of personal empowerment or the kind of confidence you might expect in someone so successful. "You are news. Whatever you do is news. But it does not take long to realize, at least assuming one wishes to live, that to be news is really to be nothing." And then he looks back and begins to tell his story, growing up in Harlem, watching his revered older brother go to prison, practically divorcing his loving family to go into show business. The stress, dedication, wild life of being an actor without any income New York City, working all night, rehearsing all day, doing the crazy things we can do when we're young.
Baldwin was a tender writer, and all his characters capture your affection, even if it's slowly drawn out, as here. I picked this up three times, and put it down twice, I didn't mind reading, and I didn't mind letting it sit. And when I picked it up again, I got right back into the flow, the poverty, and off-relationships, all of them. Leo Proudhammer is, of course, another Baldwin alter ego. He has a tough background, an ingrained sense of racism, he's bisexual with unusual choices of attachment, and, perhaps, very lonely, partially in a self-inflicted kind of way. "Everyone wishes to be loved, but, in the event, nearly no one can bear it." That loneliness is what I felt strongly as I finished and put the book down. It's there from opening, from the way Barbara and the rest of the cast respond to his heart attack. But it seems to hit hard at the end. When I finished, the book left me with a weight I wasn't fully aware was accumulating. It hung around, all of it.
-----------------------------------------------
46. Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone by James Baldwin
published: 1968
format: 484 page Vintage paperback
acquired: September
read: Sep 6 – Oct 3 (9 days reading, scattered)
time reading: 14 hr 3 min, 1.7 min/page
rating: 4½
February 25, 2025
“People won’t see what they can’t afford to see”. p266
James Baldwin is phenomenal. Tell Me How Long the Train’s been gone is the 4th of his novels that I’ve read and each time I do I feel like I’ve been socked between the eyes somehow with some sort of dose of sobering reality. Sure, I could explain it all away in that this book was written in 1968 (my birth year btw), takes place on the other side of the world in America no less, where these sorts of issues are front and centre. But then I read a line like what I’ve written out above and I’m brought back to earth cos Baldwin has kind of summed up the prejudice of the world in a few words.
Tell me how long the trains been gone centres around Leo Proudhammer, a black man whose trajectory is intriguing and seems to have traversed worlds where differing values sets are entrenched. He’s an actor, his brother is a preacher and he’s from Harlem and his life has twisted and turned through a journey that in some ways has very much been his own as he’s navigated opportunity in the face of prophecy that is often self fulfilling.
Early in the book, Leo finds himself wandering around New York on his own and ends up on the train… “I very soon realised that after the train had passed a certain point, going uptown or downtown, all the coloured people disappeared. The first time I realised this, I panicked and got lost. I rushed off the train, terrified of what these white people might do to me with no coloured person around to protect me - even to scold me, even to beat me…” p 27. And thus the trajectory of the book is set, Leo navigating a world where racial differences and prejudices are fundamental underpinnings to everyday life. Somehow it seems like a constant push and pull through life.
I struggle to do justice to a review of this book. I read it through my lens of white privilege and I am acutely aware of a lack of ability to truly understand.
“Caleb”, I asked, “are white people, people?”
“What are you talking about, Leo?”
“I mean - are white people - people? People like us?”
He looked down at me. His face was strange and sad. It was a face I had never seen before….
“All I can tell you, Leo, is - well, they don’t think they are.” p47
There is a motif of acting that threads through the book. Whether or not that is something Baldwin intended to stand out I don’t know but I was struck by…
“Nothing could have been further from the truth, but we were, as Pirandello puts it, in the process of living our play and playing our lives. Preparing myself for my role - I was to live with this inane concept for many years…. p66
Leo ultimately estranges from his family. His beautiful brother Caleb that earlier in the book I just loved becomes so disappointing and Leo navigated his own path, processing his own stuff.. dealing with his own intense anger, hatred, hopelessness, difference, sexuality, oppression, pain and prejudice. Baldwin engages in an intense character study and Leo is a perfect candidate to study and see oneself in no matter what origin or experience. He seeks to understand, break down and rebuild his identity as a black man, an actor who is known and famous, bisexual, estranged, immersed in a white world - working out who he is, what he believes or disbelieves and who he wants to become.
This book is powerful, as are all Baldwin’s books. I loved and savoured it and loved Leo immensely. 5*
James Baldwin is phenomenal. Tell Me How Long the Train’s been gone is the 4th of his novels that I’ve read and each time I do I feel like I’ve been socked between the eyes somehow with some sort of dose of sobering reality. Sure, I could explain it all away in that this book was written in 1968 (my birth year btw), takes place on the other side of the world in America no less, where these sorts of issues are front and centre. But then I read a line like what I’ve written out above and I’m brought back to earth cos Baldwin has kind of summed up the prejudice of the world in a few words.
Tell me how long the trains been gone centres around Leo Proudhammer, a black man whose trajectory is intriguing and seems to have traversed worlds where differing values sets are entrenched. He’s an actor, his brother is a preacher and he’s from Harlem and his life has twisted and turned through a journey that in some ways has very much been his own as he’s navigated opportunity in the face of prophecy that is often self fulfilling.
Early in the book, Leo finds himself wandering around New York on his own and ends up on the train… “I very soon realised that after the train had passed a certain point, going uptown or downtown, all the coloured people disappeared. The first time I realised this, I panicked and got lost. I rushed off the train, terrified of what these white people might do to me with no coloured person around to protect me - even to scold me, even to beat me…” p 27. And thus the trajectory of the book is set, Leo navigating a world where racial differences and prejudices are fundamental underpinnings to everyday life. Somehow it seems like a constant push and pull through life.
I struggle to do justice to a review of this book. I read it through my lens of white privilege and I am acutely aware of a lack of ability to truly understand.
“Caleb”, I asked, “are white people, people?”
“What are you talking about, Leo?”
“I mean - are white people - people? People like us?”
He looked down at me. His face was strange and sad. It was a face I had never seen before….
“All I can tell you, Leo, is - well, they don’t think they are.” p47
There is a motif of acting that threads through the book. Whether or not that is something Baldwin intended to stand out I don’t know but I was struck by…
“Nothing could have been further from the truth, but we were, as Pirandello puts it, in the process of living our play and playing our lives. Preparing myself for my role - I was to live with this inane concept for many years…. p66
Leo ultimately estranges from his family. His beautiful brother Caleb that earlier in the book I just loved becomes so disappointing and Leo navigated his own path, processing his own stuff.. dealing with his own intense anger, hatred, hopelessness, difference, sexuality, oppression, pain and prejudice. Baldwin engages in an intense character study and Leo is a perfect candidate to study and see oneself in no matter what origin or experience. He seeks to understand, break down and rebuild his identity as a black man, an actor who is known and famous, bisexual, estranged, immersed in a white world - working out who he is, what he believes or disbelieves and who he wants to become.
This book is powerful, as are all Baldwin’s books. I loved and savoured it and loved Leo immensely. 5*
October 24, 2020
And she’s right, I thought. There is nothing more to be said. All we can do now is just hold on. That was why she held my hand. I recognized this as love—recognized it very quietly and, for the first time, without fear. My life, that desperately treacherous labyrinth, seemed for a moment to be opening out behind me; a light seemed to fall where there had been no light before. I began to see myself in others. I began for a moment to apprehend how Christopher must sometimes have felt. Everyone wishes to be loved, but, in the event, nearly no one can bear it. Everyone desires love but also finds it impossible to believe that he deserves it. However great the private disasters to which love may lead, love itself is strikingly and mysteriously impersonal; it is a reality which is not altered by anything one does. Therefore, one does many things, turns the key in the lock over and over again, hoping to be locked out. Once locked out, one will never again be forced to encounter in the eyes of a stranger who loves him the impenetrable truth concerning the stranger, oneself, who is loved. And yet—one would prefer, after all, not to be locked out. One would prefer, merely, that the key unlocked a less stunningly unusual door.
*
I had not imagined that I could ever feel nostalgia for those years, or that I would ever, abruptly, bleakly, see in them, and in myself, a vanished, a blasphemed beauty, a beauty which I had never recognized and which I had, myself, destroyed. None of it had seemed beautiful then, myself least of all.
*
I had never been at home in the world and had become incapable of imagining that I ever would be. I did not want others to endure my estrangement, that was why I was on the platform; yet was it not, at the least, paradoxical that it was only my estrangement which had placed me there? And I could not flatten out this paradox, I could not hammer it into any usable shape. Everyone else desired to be at home in the world, and so did I—or so had I; and they were right in this desire, and so had I been; it was our privilege, to say nothing of our hope, to attempt to make the world a human dwellingplace for us all; and yet—yet—was it not possible that the mighty gentlemen, my honorable and invaluable confreres, by being unable to imagine such a journey as my own, were leaving something of the utmost importance out of their aspirations? I could not know.
*
We couldn’t make it and we couldn’t let it go—I had not known make-believe could be so painful, and, indeed, I now began to learn something about make-believe.
*
I don’t know what she was seeing as we looked out over the dark valley; but I did not see any future for us; I did not see any future for myself at all. Barbara was young and talented and pretty, and single-minded. There was nothing to prevent her from scaling the heights. Her eminence was but a matter of time. And what could she then do with her sad, dark lover, a boy trapped in the wrong time, the wrong place, and with the wrong ambitions trapped in the wrong skin?
*
The most subtle and perhaps the most deadly of alienations is that which is produced by the fear of being alienated. Because I was certain that Barbara could not stay with me, I dared not be committed to Barbara. This fear obscured a great many fears, but it obscured, above all, the question of whether or not I wished to be committed to Barbara, or to anyone else, and it hid the question of whether or not I was capable of commitment.
*
I knew that I had to make my way—somehow. No one could help me and I could not call for help. There was no way for me to know if the fear I sometimes felt when with Barbara, a fear which sometimes woke me in the middle of the night, which sometimes made me catch my breath when walking the streets at noon, was a personal fear, produced merely by the convolutions of my own personality, or a public fear, produced by the rage of others. I could not read my symptoms, for I loved her, I knew that, and loved her more than I loved anyone else. We were not always happy, but when I was happy with Barbara I was happier than I had ever been with anyone else. We were at ease with each other, as we were with no one else. And yet, I saw no future for us.
*
So much is lost; and what’s lost is lost forever. Was it destined to be lost, or could we have saved it?
*
One can live a long time without living: and we were both to discover this now.
*
“I think I do.” Then, “Do you think what we’ve become is so awful, Barbara?” “No. Oh, I don’t mean that. But it isn’t—is it?—exactly what we had in mind. I didn’t,” she said at last, “expect to become so lonely.” “Neither did I,” I said.
*
I had not imagined that I could ever feel nostalgia for those years, or that I would ever, abruptly, bleakly, see in them, and in myself, a vanished, a blasphemed beauty, a beauty which I had never recognized and which I had, myself, destroyed. None of it had seemed beautiful then, myself least of all.
*
I had never been at home in the world and had become incapable of imagining that I ever would be. I did not want others to endure my estrangement, that was why I was on the platform; yet was it not, at the least, paradoxical that it was only my estrangement which had placed me there? And I could not flatten out this paradox, I could not hammer it into any usable shape. Everyone else desired to be at home in the world, and so did I—or so had I; and they were right in this desire, and so had I been; it was our privilege, to say nothing of our hope, to attempt to make the world a human dwellingplace for us all; and yet—yet—was it not possible that the mighty gentlemen, my honorable and invaluable confreres, by being unable to imagine such a journey as my own, were leaving something of the utmost importance out of their aspirations? I could not know.
*
We couldn’t make it and we couldn’t let it go—I had not known make-believe could be so painful, and, indeed, I now began to learn something about make-believe.
*
I don’t know what she was seeing as we looked out over the dark valley; but I did not see any future for us; I did not see any future for myself at all. Barbara was young and talented and pretty, and single-minded. There was nothing to prevent her from scaling the heights. Her eminence was but a matter of time. And what could she then do with her sad, dark lover, a boy trapped in the wrong time, the wrong place, and with the wrong ambitions trapped in the wrong skin?
*
The most subtle and perhaps the most deadly of alienations is that which is produced by the fear of being alienated. Because I was certain that Barbara could not stay with me, I dared not be committed to Barbara. This fear obscured a great many fears, but it obscured, above all, the question of whether or not I wished to be committed to Barbara, or to anyone else, and it hid the question of whether or not I was capable of commitment.
*
I knew that I had to make my way—somehow. No one could help me and I could not call for help. There was no way for me to know if the fear I sometimes felt when with Barbara, a fear which sometimes woke me in the middle of the night, which sometimes made me catch my breath when walking the streets at noon, was a personal fear, produced merely by the convolutions of my own personality, or a public fear, produced by the rage of others. I could not read my symptoms, for I loved her, I knew that, and loved her more than I loved anyone else. We were not always happy, but when I was happy with Barbara I was happier than I had ever been with anyone else. We were at ease with each other, as we were with no one else. And yet, I saw no future for us.
*
So much is lost; and what’s lost is lost forever. Was it destined to be lost, or could we have saved it?
*
One can live a long time without living: and we were both to discover this now.
*
“I think I do.” Then, “Do you think what we’ve become is so awful, Barbara?” “No. Oh, I don’t mean that. But it isn’t—is it?—exactly what we had in mind. I didn’t,” she said at last, “expect to become so lonely.” “Neither did I,” I said.
Read
December 7, 2022For 30 pages, James Baldwin had me hooked: the description of actor Leo Proudhammer's heart attack, on stage, - told in his own words -, and what happens immediately after, is haunting and intriguing. But then a series of flashbacks starts that gradually clarify who Leo actually is and what has colored his life until then. Leo is an African American (raised in Harlem and scarred by poverty, segregation and discrimination) and, apparantly, he had an on-and-off relationship with Barbara, a privileged white person. After 100 pages Jerry appears in the story, also white, and clearly gay. But then the book has already degenerated into a succession of scenes, set in the actor's milieu, endless dialogues with no apparent connecting thread, and a Leo who is constantly analyzing himself.
I must confess that I gave up just before half way (so I won’t rate this). Baldwin had a superior style, no doubt, the social issues he addressed are highly relevant, and the evocation of how a special person (Leo in this case) deals with feelings and situations is intriguing. But in this book, he's drowned the storyline in too much meandering dialogues, mixed with introspection, like in an elongated, theatrical setting. No, this didn't resonate. I guess it's my bad, because I really love his Go Tell It on the Mountain and Giovanni's Room.
I must confess that I gave up just before half way (so I won’t rate this). Baldwin had a superior style, no doubt, the social issues he addressed are highly relevant, and the evocation of how a special person (Leo in this case) deals with feelings and situations is intriguing. But in this book, he's drowned the storyline in too much meandering dialogues, mixed with introspection, like in an elongated, theatrical setting. No, this didn't resonate. I guess it's my bad, because I really love his Go Tell It on the Mountain and Giovanni's Room.
July 29, 2017
Leo is a famous, black, bisexual stage actor who has just had a serious heart attack. As he is in the hospital he thinks back on episodes of his life, in non-chronological order. This structure made the writing a little choppy. I've been reading a lot of James Baldwin this year and this is the first book that I've felt was too long (by about 200 pages). I preferred the parts of the book that dealt with the theater, but the parts about Leo's childhood in Harlem felt like I'd read them before in other Baldwin books and a lot of the book was pretty boring. I thought that his love affairs were particularly uninteresting. I wouldn't recommend starting with this book if you are new to Baldwin's work. The narration by Kevin Kenerly of the audiobook was excellent.
October 25, 2017
I won’t bury the lede: Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone is one of my favorite works of 20th century literature; if you haven’t read it (or haven’t read Baldwin) you should consider that a gap worthy of being filled post haste. While not essential to one’s reading, I would recommend pairing this with The Fire Next Time, as there are numerous autobiographical details discussed in that book that directly contribute to moments in this book.
I’ve seen this book described as “experimental” (the descriptor pops up on wikipedia’s entry for Baldwin), which is almost entirely misleading. The novel is mostly told in retrospect – with the present-day action only taking up 2-3 days – but nothing about it is especially experimental. It is simply – I use the word facetiously – a stunning work of well crafted literature. There are large sections of the book that were so anguished, so crushing, that my chest hurt while reading them. But it is relenting in this overwhelmingness, and there are passages of grace and beauty that keep the balance in check.
Again, this is an indispensable work of literature; even here upon my second reading of it I’m still blown away by what Baldwin has achieved.
There was something very wonderful which Salvatore brought to the fore in Jerry. Jerry showed a side of himself to Salvatore which he showed to no one else. I think if l had never seen Jerry with Salvatore, I would never have known what pain and love were in the boy, could not have guessed how much he had lost already, and why it was possible for Barbara really to care about him. Salvatore treated Jerry like a son; and this brought forward the man in Jerry. It brought forward in him elements of delicacy and courtesy which Jerry, in most of his daily life disguised by rough speech and rough play. The lost and loving boy Jerry was attempting—helplessly—to divorce and deny was the only creature Salvatore saw, and it did not even occur to him to doubt the value of this creature. Salvatore could not know it, but he thus reached directly into the heart of Jerry’s loneliness, and also foreshadowed his hard and lonely life. When I watched Salvatore and Jerry together, I was happy for Jerry but I was sad for me. For the old, sturdy man recognized Jerry, he had seen him before. He found the key to Jerry in the life he himself had lived. But he had no key for me: my life, in effect, had not yet happened in anybody’s consciousness. And I did not know why. Sometimes, alone, I fled to the Negro part of town. Sometimes I got drunk there, and a couple of times I got laid there. But my connections all were broken.The writing in this book is exceptional. Baldwin has constructed a deeply intimate book, told through the first person narrative of Leo Proudhammer, that lays bare the anguish and bitterness of the early-20th-century African-American experience, and yet it doesn’t succumb to despair. This balancing act never feels forced or saccharine, and Baldwin’s detailed prose is constructed in such a way as to bear the brunt of this weight.
I’ve seen this book described as “experimental” (the descriptor pops up on wikipedia’s entry for Baldwin), which is almost entirely misleading. The novel is mostly told in retrospect – with the present-day action only taking up 2-3 days – but nothing about it is especially experimental. It is simply – I use the word facetiously – a stunning work of well crafted literature. There are large sections of the book that were so anguished, so crushing, that my chest hurt while reading them. But it is relenting in this overwhelmingness, and there are passages of grace and beauty that keep the balance in check.
Again, this is an indispensable work of literature; even here upon my second reading of it I’m still blown away by what Baldwin has achieved.
Some moments in a life, and they needn’t be very long or seem very important, can make up for so much in that life; can redeem, justify, that pain, that bewilderment, with which one lives, and invest one with the courage not only to endure it, but to profit from it; some moments teach one the price of the human connection: if one can live with one’s own pain, then one respects the pain of others, and so, briefly, but transcendentally, we can release each other from pain.
December 6, 2024
This almost-500-page novel is a surprisingly quick read. Upon starting it, I soon found myself pulled in. (I basically only put it down occasionally to catch my breath.) It was almost as though Baldwin had, early on, said "I've got something you need to hear."
'Tell Me...' begins with a heart attack - which black, bisexual actor Leo Proudhammer is having onstage. The event will be what causes the actor to reflect on his life as he begins his road to recovery. Beginning as it did in Depression-era Harlem, it was a life defined and governed by racism - a reality which, of course, follows Proudhammer into adulthood.
As a kid, Leo is witness to many home conversations about whites, i.e., the one in which his mother encourages his older brother Caleb to rise above - because blacks are "just as good" as whites:
There is considerable harshness in this work, but there is also considerable joy: often in the depiction of Leo's parents; apparent in the bonds established with some of Leo's closest friends (both black and white); flowing in the fraternal relationship Leo has with Caleb - one that goes from physical intimacy to guarded devotion years later, once Caleb becomes a minister. (In a long monologue during a long-delayed reunion with Leo, Caleb reveals himself with heart-wrenching incisiveness as he relates his experiences in Italy during WWII.)
While the book displays marvelous observational skill (Baldwin is particularly accurate in his portrait of the theater and its denizens), this is primarily a study in self-exploration:
This is a stirring work, with a fullness of spirit and a generosity of wisdom.
'Tell Me...' begins with a heart attack - which black, bisexual actor Leo Proudhammer is having onstage. The event will be what causes the actor to reflect on his life as he begins his road to recovery. Beginning as it did in Depression-era Harlem, it was a life defined and governed by racism - a reality which, of course, follows Proudhammer into adulthood.
As a kid, Leo is witness to many home conversations about whites, i.e., the one in which his mother encourages his older brother Caleb to rise above - because blacks are "just as good" as whites:
Caleb laughed. He mimicked her. "Just as good! Just as good as who -- them people who beat my ass and called me nigger and made me eat shit and wallow in the dirt like a dog? Just as good as them? Is that what you want for me? I'd like to see every single one of them in their graves--in their graves, Mama, that's right. And I wouldn't be a white man for all the coals in hell."Racism (sometimes mild but more often plain-as-day and savage) more or less saturates this novel. Leo is also aware when it's camouflaged:
Americans are always lying to themselves about that kinsman they call the Negro, and they are always lying to him, and I had grown accustomed to the tone which sought your complicity in the unadmitted crime.The reader will note how much of this novel reflects the unenlightened avenues of the period (the '30s-'60s) - while being simultaneously aware of the degree to which racism is shamefully still very much with us.
There is considerable harshness in this work, but there is also considerable joy: often in the depiction of Leo's parents; apparent in the bonds established with some of Leo's closest friends (both black and white); flowing in the fraternal relationship Leo has with Caleb - one that goes from physical intimacy to guarded devotion years later, once Caleb becomes a minister. (In a long monologue during a long-delayed reunion with Leo, Caleb reveals himself with heart-wrenching incisiveness as he relates his experiences in Italy during WWII.)
While the book displays marvelous observational skill (Baldwin is particularly accurate in his portrait of the theater and its denizens), this is primarily a study in self-exploration:
It's painful, sometimes, to look back on a life and wonder if anything you did could have made any difference. So much is lost; and what's lost is lost forever. Was it destined to be lost, or could we have saved it?Ultimately, Leo's emotional salvation rests with two characters: Barbara, a white woman from Kentucky and fellow actor, devoted to Leo through thick-and-thin; and Christopher, a black man of a younger, more ideologically militant generation, who - in the time of his recovery - becomes Leo's bodyguard and lover.
This is a stirring work, with a fullness of spirit and a generosity of wisdom.
December 18, 2017
Jimmy leaves my jaw on the floor Everytime! There is no greater writer.
July 6, 2025
everything he writes is my holy scripture
October 30, 2011
Baldwin, for me, is one of those writers who defines what their art is about. He is able to address a range of themes and emotions in a clear, unfussy style that makes his stories both a joy to behold and an experience to share. His characters live and breathe in ways to which we can all relate, and exist in worlds we recognise. It is this authenticity of description and experience that allows you to become so involved and invested in the stories and the journeys of his characters. That there is such a personal experience gained from - and a personal investment made in - stories created in another time and place is testament to Baldwin's skill.
Throughout the book, humanity sings out from every page, paragraph and word. Any anger that is in the book - and there is a lot - comes from a place of love and faith (in humanity) and not from hate or despair. Characters are scarred and affected by their environments, sure, but they are also able, to various degrees, to attempt to take control and influence their own outcomes. This positive approach allows us to share in the anger that an unjust world provokes, but also infuses the reader with a positivity that we, you and I can change, and allow ourselves to be changed, if we really care enough about the world we live in and our role within it.
Above all, you will be entertained and enjoy this book. On top of everything else, isn't that reason enough to give this book a try?
Throughout the book, humanity sings out from every page, paragraph and word. Any anger that is in the book - and there is a lot - comes from a place of love and faith (in humanity) and not from hate or despair. Characters are scarred and affected by their environments, sure, but they are also able, to various degrees, to attempt to take control and influence their own outcomes. This positive approach allows us to share in the anger that an unjust world provokes, but also infuses the reader with a positivity that we, you and I can change, and allow ourselves to be changed, if we really care enough about the world we live in and our role within it.
Above all, you will be entertained and enjoy this book. On top of everything else, isn't that reason enough to give this book a try?
July 9, 2025
this is the first time I’ve read Baldwin and I’m so glad I picked this up. His writing is exhilarating and painfully human and beautiful and it feels that the narrative is so violently alive that it gasps for breath.. it’s the same strange, wild, animal intoxication you might experience while running down a steep hill as a child
The thing that struck me the most in this novel, particularly through the beginning and the middle, was Baldwin’s talent for creating a sense of a hostile world, a world in which a black man must constantly view himself through the eyes of the white people who strive to determine his identity, his power. With this comes a profound alienation in every sense of the world. There is an alienation from the society that you have been placed in, from people you are grouped with, and I also noticed a separation between body and mind, which would often manifest as an uncontrollable erection. Leo’s erections are symbolic of the American fear of the black man; if he is erect, then he is transformed into the eyes of society from a latent to an active weapon, the penis being emblematic of the role of the aggressor that he tries so desperately to avoid.
It is exhausting to constantly view yourself through the medium of others, to feel that you are constantly acting in a way, to be defined by circumstances outside of your control.. Baldwin is so gifted at describing the inner agony that a child experiences upon discovering that the world is a hostile place. What a beautiful and profound book.
The thing that struck me the most in this novel, particularly through the beginning and the middle, was Baldwin’s talent for creating a sense of a hostile world, a world in which a black man must constantly view himself through the eyes of the white people who strive to determine his identity, his power. With this comes a profound alienation in every sense of the world. There is an alienation from the society that you have been placed in, from people you are grouped with, and I also noticed a separation between body and mind, which would often manifest as an uncontrollable erection. Leo’s erections are symbolic of the American fear of the black man; if he is erect, then he is transformed into the eyes of society from a latent to an active weapon, the penis being emblematic of the role of the aggressor that he tries so desperately to avoid.
It is exhausting to constantly view yourself through the medium of others, to feel that you are constantly acting in a way, to be defined by circumstances outside of your control.. Baldwin is so gifted at describing the inner agony that a child experiences upon discovering that the world is a hostile place. What a beautiful and profound book.
October 20, 2025
another five star baldwin book, shocking
October 24, 2023
Leo Proudhammer's recollection of his life exhibits James Baldwin's personal life:
- Institutional racism (any google-search of James will see him speak out on this topic)
- Incarceration as a means of preserving economic and racial inequality (James did a short time in jail before charges got dismissed)
- White privilege (James had many white friends so he 'knew'. James went to a predominantly white Jewish high school)
- Bisexuality and sexual exploration (James was OUT and quite proud)
- Impact of racism on military/civilian life in World War II (James was born '24, so teen as US entered WWII)
- Fundamentalist Christianity (James stepdad preached. James himself preached a little in early years)
- Homosexuality (James most assuredly gay)
- Racism (James was black and grew up in the 40's/50's/60's - need to say more?)
The release of this book in 1968 must have created quite the stir. The bisexuality and antiracism remarks in this book were simply part of Leo Proudhammer's life. There is no erotic sex scenes in this book, yet the rare, simple love-acts were interracial and/or homosexual. The scenes of racism were very real:
Here I was, in the country, and on a country road alone, facing two armed white [police]men who had legal sanction to kill me. And if killing me should prove to be an error, it would not matter very much. It would not for them be a serious error. It would not cost them their badges, or their pensions. The only people who would care about my death could certainly never reach them. I knew this.
I added this to my '_banned' shelf, since these topics surely made this book ultra-controversial in its day, and just regular-controversial now in 2023.
Baldwin writes strongly on all these topics as he adeptly weaves these themes into a proud black man's life. Young Leo Proudhammer told his older brother that he wanted to be an actor one day. He pursued it very successfully and with pride amidst a very racist time in history.
The conversations all feel like I am right in the room with these characters. I like the reality of the situations, both in what is said/described, and what is quietly left unsaid:
The theater began in the church. We [Leo and older brother Reverend Caleb] were both performers. That was how they saw us, brothers, and at war. They may have expected more from me than they did from him simply because my pulpit was so much harder to reach, and they [his parents] hadn't after all yet heard my sermon.
My only quibble was mapping the time-frame/ages of the character/story, since these were recollections of Leo. Leo suffers a heart-attack at age 40 in the opening scenes of the book. He was living in the fast lane, working hard, and this will force him to take a break. So the story jumps from Leo-now, to Leo-in-the-past at various points in his past.
This was an extremely well-read audio book that I listened to. I highly recommend this version. But any Baldwin hard-copy book is a sure joy too per the constant mental engagement of the reader to decipher true adult conversations. I like to read some YA books too, that all tend to tell you EXACTLY what you need to know/think, so Baldwin's writing style is refreshingly powerful.
Solid 5*
I think my next Baldwin book will need to be his biography:
James Baldwin: A Biography by David A. Leeming
- Institutional racism (any google-search of James will see him speak out on this topic)
- Incarceration as a means of preserving economic and racial inequality (James did a short time in jail before charges got dismissed)
- White privilege (James had many white friends so he 'knew'. James went to a predominantly white Jewish high school)
- Bisexuality and sexual exploration (James was OUT and quite proud)
- Impact of racism on military/civilian life in World War II (James was born '24, so teen as US entered WWII)
- Fundamentalist Christianity (James stepdad preached. James himself preached a little in early years)
- Homosexuality (James most assuredly gay)
- Racism (James was black and grew up in the 40's/50's/60's - need to say more?)
The release of this book in 1968 must have created quite the stir. The bisexuality and antiracism remarks in this book were simply part of Leo Proudhammer's life. There is no erotic sex scenes in this book, yet the rare, simple love-acts were interracial and/or homosexual. The scenes of racism were very real:
Here I was, in the country, and on a country road alone, facing two armed white [police]men who had legal sanction to kill me. And if killing me should prove to be an error, it would not matter very much. It would not for them be a serious error. It would not cost them their badges, or their pensions. The only people who would care about my death could certainly never reach them. I knew this.
I added this to my '_banned' shelf, since these topics surely made this book ultra-controversial in its day, and just regular-controversial now in 2023.
Baldwin writes strongly on all these topics as he adeptly weaves these themes into a proud black man's life. Young Leo Proudhammer told his older brother that he wanted to be an actor one day. He pursued it very successfully and with pride amidst a very racist time in history.
The conversations all feel like I am right in the room with these characters. I like the reality of the situations, both in what is said/described, and what is quietly left unsaid:
The theater began in the church. We [Leo and older brother Reverend Caleb] were both performers. That was how they saw us, brothers, and at war. They may have expected more from me than they did from him simply because my pulpit was so much harder to reach, and they [his parents] hadn't after all yet heard my sermon.
My only quibble was mapping the time-frame/ages of the character/story, since these were recollections of Leo. Leo suffers a heart-attack at age 40 in the opening scenes of the book. He was living in the fast lane, working hard, and this will force him to take a break. So the story jumps from Leo-now, to Leo-in-the-past at various points in his past.
This was an extremely well-read audio book that I listened to. I highly recommend this version. But any Baldwin hard-copy book is a sure joy too per the constant mental engagement of the reader to decipher true adult conversations. I like to read some YA books too, that all tend to tell you EXACTLY what you need to know/think, so Baldwin's writing style is refreshingly powerful.
Solid 5*
I think my next Baldwin book will need to be his biography:
James Baldwin: A Biography by David A. Leeming
February 16, 2021
I need more time to process. The tone is more obvious in its angrer and cynicism than all of his other novels (note: I haven't read Just Above My Head) and feels more in conversation with his scathing, no holds barred nonfiction. It's also very theatrical in style. This book is not for the impatient reader. If you haven't read Baldwin before, don't start with this one. This may not be my favorite Baldwin book, but it's great nonetheless. So much to process.
January 6, 2008
I picked up this book after a long period of reading either non-fiction or science fiction and fantasy. Its safe to say that i have fallen deeply in love with James Baldwin and I have been brought back safely to novel-land. In this lesser known work, Baldwin demonstrates his skillful use language, and his deep understanding of the human condition in the racist, sexist, heteronormative, capitalist United States. This book will truly move your heart and mind, and push you grapple with your own contradictions...READ IT.
August 7, 2025
Attenzione, questo libro ti afferra e ti scaglia senza avvisarti in un mondo di sofferenza e povertà, ti scuote il cervello e ti riempie la testa di milioni di parole, ti schiaccia le tempie finché le lacrime sono sul punto di uscire, ti accarezza le parti basse e ti stritola le budella e alla fine ti lascia spossato e immensamente grato per aver preso parte a cotanta struggente bellezza.
September 13, 2021
Baldwin’s long soliloquy here has the gravity and authority of nothing less than God. And that ain’t bullshit.
December 20, 2023
Hundert Jahre Freiheit ohne Gleichberechtigung ist der Titel eines Sachbuches von James Baldwin aus der Zeit der Bürgerrechtsbewegung. Vermutlich nimmt er in diesem Diskurs eine bedeutende Rolle ein, sicher auch in der Chronologie der Literatur der Amerikaner mit afrikanischen Wurzeln. Wenn sich etwas positives über dieses Buch sagen lässt, dann, dass es sich wohl um einen Versuch handelt, die seinerzeit bestehende Ungleichheit in Romanform zu verarbeiten.
Hatte mir das Buch sozusagen als Roots 100 Jahre später auf die Leseliste gesetzt, denn Alex Haileys Familiensaga entwickelt sich nach der Aufhebung der Sklaverei zu einem ziemlich dünnen Erzählstrom. Die Plotline klingt auch ziemlich interessant: Eine Art Sidney Poitier oder Sammy Davis Junior erleidet auf der Bühne einen Herzanfall und lässt sein Leben Revue passieren. Als Mann steht er zwischen seiner weißen Dauergeliebten und seinem schwarzen Lover, der zu den Waffen greifen will, um der Diskriminierung ein Ende zu machen.
Stoff für ein großartiges Buch, seinen Anspruch als Erzähler will Baldwin mit einer dreisträhnigen Erzählstruktur unter Beweis stellen. Deshalb folgt auf einen längeren Erzählstrang mit Leo Proudhammers Infarkt- und Genesungsgegegenwart, ein Abschnitt aus
seinem Elendsbildungsroman aus Harlem oder den Jahren vor seinem Durchbruch, in dem sich sein verhängnisvolles Verhältnis zu Barbara entwickelt, eine von Rassismus und persönlichen Defiziten belastete Daueraffäre, bei der sich beide den Wunsch nach Nachwuchs versagen müssen.
Die Liebe zum Black Panther Christopher ist durch familiäre Wurzeln geprägt, denn der junge Liebhaber erinnert an den stolzen Vater, Leos Verhältnis zum später fromm gewordenen Bruder Caleb trägt stark homoerotische Züge. Zuletzt muss Rekonvaleszent Leo aber auch erleben, wie sich Barbara über eine Affäre mit Christopher den jungen Leo zurück ins Bett holen will. Der von ihr initiierte Beginn der Affäre für den sie ihren Italian Stallion kickt, ist eine Eifersuchtsreaktion, sie will ihren bislang nur als Seelenfreund genutzten Leo nicht an die Hauptdarstellerin verlieren und setzt damit Prozesse in Gang, die beiden das Leben unglaublich schwer machen.
Das klingt alles so weit ganz gut, allerdings fehlt James Baldwin jegliches Gespür für erzählerische Balance oder Relevanz, zwar gibt es Sätze zum Einrahmen oder immer wieder Abschnitte bei denen man hofft, dass das Buch vielleicht doch noch die Kurve kriegt*, aber alles in allem entsteht der Eindruck, einmal hingeschrieben und nie mehr im Kontext gelesen. So nimmt Leo Entlassung aus dem Krankenhaus zwanzig überaus geschwätzige Seiten ein, sein Verhältnis als Teenie mit einem schwulen Gangster als neuem Beschützer eine halbe Seite, seine Leiden als Schauspieler, der keine Chance bekommt, übersteigen ein Drittel des Buches, sein Durchbruch bekommt zehn Seiten, in die auch noch der Tod der Mutter eingearbeitet ist.
Insofern gerät das Ganze zu einer ziemlich zusammenhanglosen Jeremiade, in der wenig erbaulicher Sex mit Angehörigen beider Rassen und beiderlei Geschlechts vielleicht als Kitt dienen soll. Mein zweiter Baldwin nach dem verheißungsvoll gestarteten und in der Hälfte jämmerlich zusammengeklappten und lustlos zu Ende gebrachten Beale Street Blues, mit dem er viele Klischees teilt, etwa die immer wieder angestimmten Arien auf das Recht der armen unterprivilegieten Schwarzen, jedem Weißen/Juden alles zu klauen, was sich unter den Nagel reißen lässt.
Vermutlich ist der Zug für James Baldwin bei mir abgefahren. Another Country, das ich erst als möglicherweise gelungeneren Vorgänger ins Visier genommen habe, krankt anscheinend an denselben erzähltechnischen Leiden. Als Romancier ist Baldwin ein kläglicher Versager, weil ihm die Hand für das Große Ganze abgeht, das wird erst deutlich, wenn man die aus demselben Zeitraum stammenden Bekenntnisse des Nat Turner zum Vergleich nimmt. Styrons Autoren-DNA samt dem Verklemmungsgrad ist zwar allzu unverkennbar, aber das Buch aus Sicht des Anführers des einzigen Sklavenaufstandes in den Vereinigten Staaten ist absolut sauber komponiert und psychologisch so weit stimmig. Bei Baldwins Jeremiade hatte ich immer wieder das Gefühl, er hätte demütigende Erfahrungen aus unterschiedlichen Quellen einfach zusammen gemixt, um ein zeitgemäßes Nachfolgebuch zu Another Country nachschieben zu können.
* z.B Die Gästechronik mit den zur persönlichen Katastrophe geratenen Künsterschicksalen aus dem Village-Lokal, in dem Leo kellnert und Calypso spielt oder Calebs Erweckungserlebnis.
Hatte mir das Buch sozusagen als Roots 100 Jahre später auf die Leseliste gesetzt, denn Alex Haileys Familiensaga entwickelt sich nach der Aufhebung der Sklaverei zu einem ziemlich dünnen Erzählstrom. Die Plotline klingt auch ziemlich interessant: Eine Art Sidney Poitier oder Sammy Davis Junior erleidet auf der Bühne einen Herzanfall und lässt sein Leben Revue passieren. Als Mann steht er zwischen seiner weißen Dauergeliebten und seinem schwarzen Lover, der zu den Waffen greifen will, um der Diskriminierung ein Ende zu machen.
Stoff für ein großartiges Buch, seinen Anspruch als Erzähler will Baldwin mit einer dreisträhnigen Erzählstruktur unter Beweis stellen. Deshalb folgt auf einen längeren Erzählstrang mit Leo Proudhammers Infarkt- und Genesungsgegegenwart, ein Abschnitt aus
seinem Elendsbildungsroman aus Harlem oder den Jahren vor seinem Durchbruch, in dem sich sein verhängnisvolles Verhältnis zu Barbara entwickelt, eine von Rassismus und persönlichen Defiziten belastete Daueraffäre, bei der sich beide den Wunsch nach Nachwuchs versagen müssen.
Die Liebe zum Black Panther Christopher ist durch familiäre Wurzeln geprägt, denn der junge Liebhaber erinnert an den stolzen Vater, Leos Verhältnis zum später fromm gewordenen Bruder Caleb trägt stark homoerotische Züge. Zuletzt muss Rekonvaleszent Leo aber auch erleben, wie sich Barbara über eine Affäre mit Christopher den jungen Leo zurück ins Bett holen will. Der von ihr initiierte Beginn der Affäre für den sie ihren Italian Stallion kickt, ist eine Eifersuchtsreaktion, sie will ihren bislang nur als Seelenfreund genutzten Leo nicht an die Hauptdarstellerin verlieren und setzt damit Prozesse in Gang, die beiden das Leben unglaublich schwer machen.
Das klingt alles so weit ganz gut, allerdings fehlt James Baldwin jegliches Gespür für erzählerische Balance oder Relevanz, zwar gibt es Sätze zum Einrahmen oder immer wieder Abschnitte bei denen man hofft, dass das Buch vielleicht doch noch die Kurve kriegt*, aber alles in allem entsteht der Eindruck, einmal hingeschrieben und nie mehr im Kontext gelesen. So nimmt Leo Entlassung aus dem Krankenhaus zwanzig überaus geschwätzige Seiten ein, sein Verhältnis als Teenie mit einem schwulen Gangster als neuem Beschützer eine halbe Seite, seine Leiden als Schauspieler, der keine Chance bekommt, übersteigen ein Drittel des Buches, sein Durchbruch bekommt zehn Seiten, in die auch noch der Tod der Mutter eingearbeitet ist.
Insofern gerät das Ganze zu einer ziemlich zusammenhanglosen Jeremiade, in der wenig erbaulicher Sex mit Angehörigen beider Rassen und beiderlei Geschlechts vielleicht als Kitt dienen soll. Mein zweiter Baldwin nach dem verheißungsvoll gestarteten und in der Hälfte jämmerlich zusammengeklappten und lustlos zu Ende gebrachten Beale Street Blues, mit dem er viele Klischees teilt, etwa die immer wieder angestimmten Arien auf das Recht der armen unterprivilegieten Schwarzen, jedem Weißen/Juden alles zu klauen, was sich unter den Nagel reißen lässt.
Vermutlich ist der Zug für James Baldwin bei mir abgefahren. Another Country, das ich erst als möglicherweise gelungeneren Vorgänger ins Visier genommen habe, krankt anscheinend an denselben erzähltechnischen Leiden. Als Romancier ist Baldwin ein kläglicher Versager, weil ihm die Hand für das Große Ganze abgeht, das wird erst deutlich, wenn man die aus demselben Zeitraum stammenden Bekenntnisse des Nat Turner zum Vergleich nimmt. Styrons Autoren-DNA samt dem Verklemmungsgrad ist zwar allzu unverkennbar, aber das Buch aus Sicht des Anführers des einzigen Sklavenaufstandes in den Vereinigten Staaten ist absolut sauber komponiert und psychologisch so weit stimmig. Bei Baldwins Jeremiade hatte ich immer wieder das Gefühl, er hätte demütigende Erfahrungen aus unterschiedlichen Quellen einfach zusammen gemixt, um ein zeitgemäßes Nachfolgebuch zu Another Country nachschieben zu können.
* z.B Die Gästechronik mit den zur persönlichen Katastrophe geratenen Künsterschicksalen aus dem Village-Lokal, in dem Leo kellnert und Calypso spielt oder Calebs Erweckungserlebnis.
May 16, 2024
This was my first time reading Baldwin and I don't think I was prepared for the storm that is Baldwin's writing.
The book follows Leo Proudhammer's life who is currently a successful African American actor and the path it took for him to get there.
I would describe his writing as introspective, intense and raw. Each sentence is so charged and packed with so much meaning. His ability to capture human emotions accurately is outstanding and is some of the best writing I've ever seen. He also articulates issues facing African-Americans at the time, very well with Leo's character as well as with his family.
He started off strong but I felt the ending was a bit abrupt and anti-climatic. You know that excitement you feel when you finish a book, I didn't feel it with this book.
No doubt Baldwin is a brilliant writer and I can't wait to read his other books.
The book follows Leo Proudhammer's life who is currently a successful African American actor and the path it took for him to get there.
I would describe his writing as introspective, intense and raw. Each sentence is so charged and packed with so much meaning. His ability to capture human emotions accurately is outstanding and is some of the best writing I've ever seen. He also articulates issues facing African-Americans at the time, very well with Leo's character as well as with his family.
He started off strong but I felt the ending was a bit abrupt and anti-climatic. You know that excitement you feel when you finish a book, I didn't feel it with this book.
No doubt Baldwin is a brilliant writer and I can't wait to read his other books.
June 25, 2024
In every way gorgeous. Baldwin writes with an honesty that does not allow the reader comfort; he also wields a beauty that keeps the reader warm. This work in particular has a calling affect—it calls us to action, regardless of our race or gender or orientation; it reveals our complicity but also our shared condition. Baldwin, to me, always writes humanity.
March 18, 2024
Un acteur noir de 40 ans dans les Etats Unis des années 60 nous raconte ses souvenirs depuis son lit de convalescence à la suite d'une crise cardiaque.
Des fulgurances, peu de rythme, de l'engagement. J'en n'attendais pas beaucoup plus. J'ai trouvé le texte très subtil, peut être un peu trop parfois, si bien qu'il était difficile de voir où voulait en venir l'auteur.
Quoiqu'il en soit, c'était une très bonne lecture immersive et impactante (et j'ai la flemme d'écrire plus sur ce roman.)
Des fulgurances, peu de rythme, de l'engagement. J'en n'attendais pas beaucoup plus. J'ai trouvé le texte très subtil, peut être un peu trop parfois, si bien qu'il était difficile de voir où voulait en venir l'auteur.
Quoiqu'il en soit, c'était une très bonne lecture immersive et impactante (et j'ai la flemme d'écrire plus sur ce roman.)
July 17, 2023
The plotting is a bit patchwork at times and the ending felt abrupt but Baldwin’s prose is so gloriously voluptuously alive it’s impossible to reckon any of his works less than a masterpiece. The narrator, Leo Proudhammer, a famous Black actor, has marvelous depth and is a spellbinding monologist.
June 3, 2024
Here they came, my God, the wretched, the beautiful, lost and lonely, trying to live, though death’s icy mark was on them, trying to speak, though they had learned no language, trying to love although the flesh was vile, hoping to find in all the cups they tasted that taste which was joy, their joy, without which no life is worth living.
4.5. stars. What is there to even say? This man writes like nobody's business, and it always blows me away. This has solidified my desire to read his entire backlist, or at least as much of it as I can get my hands on. It doesn't matter the subject matter, or the characters; he always writes in such a way that gets me to immediately care about the subject, the people. And he describes emotions and the stark facts of life sometimes so beautifully, sometimes so painfully. I love when I'm reading and a sentence is so good I literally have to put the book down and walk a lap around my house just to expel my feelings. This novel follows Leo Proudhammer, a famous stage actor. At the beginning of the book, he has a devastating heart attack, and in the days following, during his convalescence, he takes the reader through his journey, his rise to fame, his relationships with his family, his friends, and his two most significant lovers: the white woman who has been his best friend for most of his life, and the younger black man who sweeps into his world later in life.
My pain was the horse that I must learn to ride. I flicked my cigarette out of the window and watched it drop and die. I thought of throwing myself after it. I was no rider and pain was no horse.
Even though this book has a difficulty that I often encounter in Baldwin's books, (which is that he obviously references a lot of books and music and popular culture that's contemporary to the time he was writing in, and not very well known to me) I didn't really find that to be a problem. I really loved how in depth this got with the discussions of stage acting, the craft of it, how Leo and Barbara clawed their way into it despite the barriers they faced. There were lots of little interesting tidbits about plays that I looked up, and others that I just took as they came. But it didn't go too in depth into the specifics of any of the plays either, because the focus is always on the characters. It's the kind of literary fiction where the plot isn't the most important thing, and I didn't mind that we meandered back and forth in time, hearing about certain events and anecdotes when Leo felt like telling them, or when they were important to the story. We don't learn anything significant about one of this most important relationships until almost the end of the book, and somehow, that worked. It didn't feel uneven; it felt perfectly and intentionally crafted.
It was in vain that I told myself, Leo, this isn’t the South. I knew better than to place any hope in the accidents of North American geography. This was America, America, America, and those people out there, my countrymen, had been tearing me limb from limb, like dogs, for centuries.
The book deals a lot with the difficulties that Leo faces trying to make it as a black actor in the 60s (I'm not sure this was ever dated, but I'm assuming it takes place around the same time as the book was published). And also just the general racism and bigotries of the times, and the hurdles that Leo had to jump just to make it as far as he did. He has a lot of great friends in his corner, and I really loved Barbara and some of his other white friends for sticking with him staunchly, and I loved seeing how some of that solidarity looked in that time period. But Baldwin also doesn't water down the black rage, and it never feels like any of the white characters are being congratulated or lauded for doing the right thing. Christopher, when he starts making appearances, was so perfect, in his steadfastness and stubbornness and refusal to back down. For a character that appears relatively little, he was easily my favourite. Baldwin also managed to make mountains out of small moments, moments that we've seen before in life, in other books. When Caleb and Leo tell their father about being stopped by the police, just the description of their father's reaction made me put down the book and tear up, simple as it was. The book was like that a lot, with many simple and stark observations on race that really got to me.
Her splendor seemed extorted, ruthlessly, from time, and she wore her splendor in that knowledge, and with that respect, and also with that scarcely perceptible trembling. One wondered how such a fragility bore such a ruthless weight.
I of course loved all of Leo's relationships, romantic and otherwise. Leo and his brother have a really complicated and messed up relationship, and it saddened me so much, even when, or especially when it was written about so beautifully. (It also gets weird, but in a way that's not weird? IDK, not sure how to talk about that.) I really loved Barbara so much, and the way she and Leo orbited each other's lives. It really made me feel like they were soulmates. Christopher, again, was my favourite part of the book. The way that Baldwin writes about queer black masculinity just makes me want to yell. It's so good. The simplest scene of them flirting made me heart HURT, but in such a good way. It can't be described. I just really loved this book a lot. I can't explain why it's not quite a 5 star, but nevertheless, it's still a definite favourite. Listened to the parts of the audiobook as read by Kevin Kennerly, and that was pretty amazing as well. Baldwin just has the type of writing that makes one grateful to be able to read, and I can't wait to continue discovering his works.
Content warnings:
“You know something I was going to tell you before, but didn’t have the nerve? You got your name written all over me. That’s right. I got my name on you, too.”
July 16, 2022
I absolutely loved this book!
Whenever you enter Baldwin’s world, you will experience a ride that is gritty, honest and life changing!
Whenever you enter Baldwin’s world, you will experience a ride that is gritty, honest and life changing!
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