One day I may find the time to prepare some well thought out, elegantly composed and insightful review of Andre Bagoo's The Undiscovered Country — affording them with at least a modicum of the appraisal that they justly deserve. In the meantime, I'm offering a quickly thought through impressions on what is undoubtedly one of the best books I've read this year.
Bagoo writes with the fastidiousness of a curator, with the kind of insatiable attention to even the smallest detail, whereby reading them feels like a deeply engaging walkthrough of an art gallery.
Bagoo often begins his essay with a daily encounter — a popular street food, a memory, soca music, or a passage from a book — and links that subject to others, drawing fascinating connections, until you can almost feel the texture of his thinking. Throughout the writing, he weaves together several artists, poets and novelists — V.S. Naipaul, Dylan Thomas, Blue Curry, Lauren K. Alleyne, Ishion Hutchinson and Derek Walcott — layering narratives to reveal, in a rather distinctive manner, a palimpsestic archive of the Trinidadian society.
One of my favorite Carl Rogers quote is, "what is most personal is most universal", a dictum that acts as a primer throughout Bagoo's text. For instance, in the essay "Dylan Thomas: Three Encounters" Bagoo recounts his trip to Laugharne with his aunt, Ann Marie. Moving through the Dylan Thomas Walk that overlooks the city, Bagoo negotiates memory and space, musing all the while on the writings of Thomas. This homage to Thomas, punctuated by Bagoo's own personal enquiry — Why was Thomas so important to me? Did it have something to do with the context of my own life as a gay person from the Caribbean, a queer person, seen and unseen, perpetually coming out to people? — act as hinges between passages as well as a digressive analysis of Bagoo's emotional and artistic process.
There’s also a genuine thrill in the way Bagoo articulates, for example, in "Crusoe's Island" Bagoo reconsiders Dafoe's work and presents the relationship of Crusoe and his servant Friday as an allegory for British imperialism. Unlike James Joyce, who regarded the “whole Anglo-Saxon spirit” as being in Crusoe, Bagoo sees this "English fantasy" as "a virus, a constellation of malarious ideas: the utopian notion of a pure, untouched land; the image of a man-god in Eden; and the dream of the all-conquering male in virgin terrain."
In a short, diaristic piece titled “What Happened On December 21, 2019,” Bagoo chronicles for the first time the intimate scenes of his domestic interiors. He takes Chaplin for a walk; He feeds him leftover lasagna: He reads Robinson Crusoe; He gets ready for a Christmas party, while he deliberates what 'festive chic' dress code means. He is both the narrator and the protagonist of his work. This is the essence of Bagoo's work in general – dedicated not only to his writerly influences, but to their derivative, the collective text that his lifelong and repetitive indulgences have inscribed: himself. And the last passage is as pithy a summation as anyone could possibly wish: "I'd planned to write this at the end of the day, so that the exercise to write what happens on a particular day would include the act of writing — a kind of infinity mirror." Here, writing—with all its compulsions—is a mode of thinking in itself: a kind of striving, intimate and tangled, as emotional as it is intellectual, held together by nothing so much as their desire to be discovered. It is this simplicity that makes The Undiscovered Country a great read.