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Nell'Inghilterra degli anni Cinquanta, l'ex boxeur giamaicano Norman Alonso cerca, tra mille difficoltà e diffuso razzismo, una nuova vita insieme a sua moglie e ai suoi bambini. Nella stessa regione (la cosiddetta Black Country, nelle Midlands) all'inizio dei Duemila suo nipote, Jesse McCarthy, è alla ricerca del proprio posto nel mondo, e di una vita più vera in cui riconoscersi. Jesse è stato cresciuto senza il padre naturale nella locale comunità dei Testimoni di Geova, un ambiente rigido e chiuso dal quale ancora adolescente viene espulso per aver timidamente manifestato le proprie tendenze omosessuali. Biasimato anche da sua madre e dal nuovo marito di lei, Jesse si trasferisce così a Londra e inizia a frequentare uomini più grandi (soprattutto bianchi) a pagamento. In ognuno di loro, non importa quanto possano essere squallidi e violenti, non importa cosa gli chiedano di fare, Jesse cerca un po' di amore, qualcuno che lo accetti e gli voglia bene per quello che è. Presto però Jesse si trova a rischiare la propria vita per un incontro sessuale più pericoloso ed estremo del solito, ma nel momento peggiore della sua vita conosce un uomo, uno scrittore, con cui nasce una forte amicizia e una grande attrazione reciproca, anche se questi è tuttora sposato con una donna...
415 pages, Paperback
First published April 23, 2020
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March 30, 2020
Like Bernadine Evaristo's Girl, Woman, Other, Paul Mendez's assured debut, Rainbow Milk, charts an unacknowledged British history, of the Windrush generation, its legacies, right through to the coming of age of a young black man, Jesse McCarthy, growing up in the black country, rejected by the Jehovah's Witness's, despite being one of its congregation's favoured sons, thrown out by his family too. It begins with the arrival from Jamaica in the 1950s of experienced gardener and ex-boxer, Norman Alonso and his pregnant wife, Claudette, full of dreams, hopes and expectations. They are shocked by the sooty air and pollution of the black country, the inescapable hostility and racism directed at them from every nook and cranny of their new home. Matters are exacerbated as Norman begins to experience horrific headaches, finding he is slowly becoming blind and unable to work any more, trying to look after their children, Robert and Glorie, with the consequent unbearable pressures faced by Claudette.
Jesse is a bright boy, advised to leave education, working at McDonalds, unable to be who he is, making his way to London, operating as a sex worker, taking drugs, with all the dangers and threats this poses. He gravitates towards older white men, seeking a permanent relationship and to be looked after in a way that he has never experienced in his life. The depths of his mother's abuse and cruel neglect is slowly revealed, refusing to provide him with information about his father, other than that he was dead, but did she lie to him? Jesse grows up bursting with self hatred and anger at being black, convinced his mother fed him rainbow milk in the hope that he would die. Despite everything, unsurprisingly he misses his family that had denied him love, affection and any form of meaningful care and the Jehovah's Witnesses, blaming himself rather than them for failing him so catastrophically.
It takes Owen and their Christmas Day conversation for the light to begin to dawn on a tearful and lost Jesse, that he has thought of himself as white, how white men withdraw their love, never valuing him other than for sex, leaving him hungry, injured, depressed and broke. He has been left with a vacuum, the belief system and the family he had grown up with had gone, they are no more He has to build himself another belief system, find a new centre of gravity and a new family. His church had brainwashed him from a young age that god is white, and the only embodiments of god on earth are white men, teaching him to worship white men, teaching him that he is less than nothing in comparison. However, circumstances conspire that he loses Owen just as they have found each other, only for them to meet again later.
Mendez's portrayal of Jesse is heartbreaking, I found myself completely invested in him, desperately worried that the trajectory of his life was going to end in tragedy, but amidst the darkness, there are shards of light and hope, playing out in a background of the music and culture from the time. Jesse carves out a new life and family that speaks to the truth of who he is, the painful construction of a new identity, love, friends and eventually connecting with the existence of a family he never knew of. This is challenging, profoundly moving, storytelling, of the impact of the endemic historical and contemporary racism faced by the Windrush generation and their descendants in Britain, something that we can observe has never disappeared with the damning racist and hostile environment directed at them by a Home Office headed by Teresa May and which still continues. Mendez gives us a personal depiction of what this meant for the disenfranchised Alonso family and how it never diminishes for Jesse, from his schooling, his religion, and its impact when it came to his sexuality.
This is a stunning, unforgettable, riveting and compulsive reading, although I should warn readers that it is sexually explicit. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Little, Brown for an ARC.
Jesse is a bright boy, advised to leave education, working at McDonalds, unable to be who he is, making his way to London, operating as a sex worker, taking drugs, with all the dangers and threats this poses. He gravitates towards older white men, seeking a permanent relationship and to be looked after in a way that he has never experienced in his life. The depths of his mother's abuse and cruel neglect is slowly revealed, refusing to provide him with information about his father, other than that he was dead, but did she lie to him? Jesse grows up bursting with self hatred and anger at being black, convinced his mother fed him rainbow milk in the hope that he would die. Despite everything, unsurprisingly he misses his family that had denied him love, affection and any form of meaningful care and the Jehovah's Witnesses, blaming himself rather than them for failing him so catastrophically.
It takes Owen and their Christmas Day conversation for the light to begin to dawn on a tearful and lost Jesse, that he has thought of himself as white, how white men withdraw their love, never valuing him other than for sex, leaving him hungry, injured, depressed and broke. He has been left with a vacuum, the belief system and the family he had grown up with had gone, they are no more He has to build himself another belief system, find a new centre of gravity and a new family. His church had brainwashed him from a young age that god is white, and the only embodiments of god on earth are white men, teaching him to worship white men, teaching him that he is less than nothing in comparison. However, circumstances conspire that he loses Owen just as they have found each other, only for them to meet again later.
Mendez's portrayal of Jesse is heartbreaking, I found myself completely invested in him, desperately worried that the trajectory of his life was going to end in tragedy, but amidst the darkness, there are shards of light and hope, playing out in a background of the music and culture from the time. Jesse carves out a new life and family that speaks to the truth of who he is, the painful construction of a new identity, love, friends and eventually connecting with the existence of a family he never knew of. This is challenging, profoundly moving, storytelling, of the impact of the endemic historical and contemporary racism faced by the Windrush generation and their descendants in Britain, something that we can observe has never disappeared with the damning racist and hostile environment directed at them by a Home Office headed by Teresa May and which still continues. Mendez gives us a personal depiction of what this meant for the disenfranchised Alonso family and how it never diminishes for Jesse, from his schooling, his religion, and its impact when it came to his sexuality.
This is a stunning, unforgettable, riveting and compulsive reading, although I should warn readers that it is sexually explicit. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Little, Brown for an ARC.
January 7, 2021
"We leave the Garden of Eden for the Land of Milk and Honey and find Sodom and Gomorrah."
This is one of the wisest, most beautiful and ambitious debuts I've ever read. It's like a dream, though sometimes you're not quite sure whether it's nightmare that you really want to wake up from. At times you float in a state of bliss and desire, you feel warm, strong arms fulfilling your need to be held. Other times the hopelessness and loneliness are overwhelming.
Rainbow Milk is told from two POVs. The first 50 pages are narrated by Norman Alonso. He and his wife left Jamaica to find a brighter future in England and to pave the way for their children to excel. Norman soon has to stop working as his eye-sight grows weaker by the day. While his wife works two jobs, he looks after their two children at home. Norman's part of the story is told in a Jamaican accent and the occasional dialogue in patois. It might be difficult for some to read but as a non native English speaker I'm used to making sense of words that I don't understand immediately. I must honestly say that these first 50 pages were my favourite part of the book. Alonso is a kind man with a big heart and an unbiased view of the world around him. It hurt to see him and his loved ones' identity being constantly attacked by the racist attitudes around them, even more so because we all know it was as real then as it is now. And it's infuriating when you realise that 50 years later, Norman's grandchildren encounter the same, unchanged racism.
Which leads us to Jesse, the main character of the book. He grows up as a Jehovah's Witness in a predominantly white environment, with a white adoptive father who never shows him love. He is made to leave his community when suspicions arise over his sexuality, and eventually flees to London where he earns his living as a sex worker. He constantly battles with the white supremacist, narrow-minded, oppressive ideology that he grew up with, both as a Jehovah's Witness as well as a black boy in a white society. He wishes to be once again embraced by the family and community he was kicked out of. At the same time he enjoys the freedom of the big city, he loves the sexual freedom it grants him. The (very long and detailed) sex scenes were superbly written, and Jesse made me see the beauty and sensuality in the encounters with the numerous gay men. Men that many (especially white, masc for masc gays) would consider too old, too hairy or not fit enough to be desirable.
Paul Mendez is a talented writer. Norman's POV stands in stark contrast to Jesse's, but Mendez' storytelling often takes a surprisingly experimental turn, which I found exhilarating. Be it three pages of stress-induced madness at work or the slowing down of time and space when Jesse falls deeply in love with his flatmate over the course of a single evening. I also loved that the book had its own soundtrack. Mendez constantly mentions songs and artist, from Marvin Gaye to the Sugababes and Kraftwerk. Some readers might find this irritating, especially when you don't care much for music and have never heard of any of the mentioned works. I tried to create a playlist on Spotify with every artist/album/single mentioned in the book and I only made it page 100 before I gave up. It's an ambitious project that I might try to finish another time.
The only thing that was missing for me were tears. That's why I'm still debating whether I should give it 4 or 5 stars. Rainbow Milk made me feel a lot but it had the potential to make me sob, to make me laugh out loud and it didn't quite deliver. On the other hand I just read a racist review of this book so maybe I should give it 5 stars out of spite.
I can't wait to see what the future holds for Paul Mendez and I really hope this book blows up in a similar way to Evaristo's Girl, Woman, Other.
Find more of my books on Instagram
This is one of the wisest, most beautiful and ambitious debuts I've ever read. It's like a dream, though sometimes you're not quite sure whether it's nightmare that you really want to wake up from. At times you float in a state of bliss and desire, you feel warm, strong arms fulfilling your need to be held. Other times the hopelessness and loneliness are overwhelming.
Rainbow Milk is told from two POVs. The first 50 pages are narrated by Norman Alonso. He and his wife left Jamaica to find a brighter future in England and to pave the way for their children to excel. Norman soon has to stop working as his eye-sight grows weaker by the day. While his wife works two jobs, he looks after their two children at home. Norman's part of the story is told in a Jamaican accent and the occasional dialogue in patois. It might be difficult for some to read but as a non native English speaker I'm used to making sense of words that I don't understand immediately. I must honestly say that these first 50 pages were my favourite part of the book. Alonso is a kind man with a big heart and an unbiased view of the world around him. It hurt to see him and his loved ones' identity being constantly attacked by the racist attitudes around them, even more so because we all know it was as real then as it is now. And it's infuriating when you realise that 50 years later, Norman's grandchildren encounter the same, unchanged racism.
Which leads us to Jesse, the main character of the book. He grows up as a Jehovah's Witness in a predominantly white environment, with a white adoptive father who never shows him love. He is made to leave his community when suspicions arise over his sexuality, and eventually flees to London where he earns his living as a sex worker. He constantly battles with the white supremacist, narrow-minded, oppressive ideology that he grew up with, both as a Jehovah's Witness as well as a black boy in a white society. He wishes to be once again embraced by the family and community he was kicked out of. At the same time he enjoys the freedom of the big city, he loves the sexual freedom it grants him. The (very long and detailed) sex scenes were superbly written, and Jesse made me see the beauty and sensuality in the encounters with the numerous gay men. Men that many (especially white, masc for masc gays) would consider too old, too hairy or not fit enough to be desirable.
Paul Mendez is a talented writer. Norman's POV stands in stark contrast to Jesse's, but Mendez' storytelling often takes a surprisingly experimental turn, which I found exhilarating. Be it three pages of stress-induced madness at work or the slowing down of time and space when Jesse falls deeply in love with his flatmate over the course of a single evening. I also loved that the book had its own soundtrack. Mendez constantly mentions songs and artist, from Marvin Gaye to the Sugababes and Kraftwerk. Some readers might find this irritating, especially when you don't care much for music and have never heard of any of the mentioned works. I tried to create a playlist on Spotify with every artist/album/single mentioned in the book and I only made it page 100 before I gave up. It's an ambitious project that I might try to finish another time.
The only thing that was missing for me were tears. That's why I'm still debating whether I should give it 4 or 5 stars. Rainbow Milk made me feel a lot but it had the potential to make me sob, to make me laugh out loud and it didn't quite deliver. On the other hand I just read a racist review of this book so maybe I should give it 5 stars out of spite.
I can't wait to see what the future holds for Paul Mendez and I really hope this book blows up in a similar way to Evaristo's Girl, Woman, Other.
Find more of my books on Instagram
May 8, 2020
Rainbow Milk
is a coming of age story—a raw and unfiltered look at race and religion, sex and sexuality in modern Britain.
The novel begins with a Windrush Generation couple migrating to the UK in the 1950s. This thread quickly gives way to the story of teenaged Jesse in the 2000s. Black, gay and shunned by his religious family, Jesse runs away to London, turning to sex work and drifting until eventually finding meaningful connections, and uncovering his family history.
Rainbow Milk is a fictionalised autobiography, with the author sharing some deeply personal and difficult experiences through ‘Jesse’. As a novel, it just didn’t work for me: I found the prose style very flat, the narrative padded with extraneous details, the overall pacing and structure confused. The opening chapter set in the fifties was the strongest part, almost a standalone short story in its own right.
There are some vibrant flashes throughout, two or three scenes in Jesse’s life that pack a real emotional punch, but their power is diluted by the rambling, mundane episodes that surround them. Jesse is a captivating character with a moving story. For me, this simply was not well-executed enough as a piece of literature.
The novel begins with a Windrush Generation couple migrating to the UK in the 1950s. This thread quickly gives way to the story of teenaged Jesse in the 2000s. Black, gay and shunned by his religious family, Jesse runs away to London, turning to sex work and drifting until eventually finding meaningful connections, and uncovering his family history.
Rainbow Milk is a fictionalised autobiography, with the author sharing some deeply personal and difficult experiences through ‘Jesse’. As a novel, it just didn’t work for me: I found the prose style very flat, the narrative padded with extraneous details, the overall pacing and structure confused. The opening chapter set in the fifties was the strongest part, almost a standalone short story in its own right.
There are some vibrant flashes throughout, two or three scenes in Jesse’s life that pack a real emotional punch, but their power is diluted by the rambling, mundane episodes that surround them. Jesse is a captivating character with a moving story. For me, this simply was not well-executed enough as a piece of literature.
February 13, 2022
I think this book does an excellent job showing the dual effects of racism and homophobia on a young, vulnerable gay Black man. Other than that though, this book and I did not fit well together. I found the writing style repetitive, and though Paul Mendez writes about the protagonist’s pain with empathy and care, I wanted scenes that felt more grounded and fleshed out.
My main critique involves the unresolved internalized racism throughout the book. In one scene in particular, the main character reflects on how he’s been taught to view white people and white men in particular as the most attractive and exceptional – and then this sentiment is never really addressed or resolved, which I found off-putting as a queer man of color who’s witnessed firsthand the glorification of white queer men within the queer community. At another point in the novel the main character praises his (in my opinion, very boring and one-dimensional) white male partner for doing the bare minimum in terms of allyship for people of color, which I again felt frustrated by because I don’t think we should give white people cookies for doing their part in promoting racial justice.
Ugh! I hope this review doesn’t feel like too much of a downer. Onto the next read.
My main critique involves the unresolved internalized racism throughout the book. In one scene in particular, the main character reflects on how he’s been taught to view white people and white men in particular as the most attractive and exceptional – and then this sentiment is never really addressed or resolved, which I found off-putting as a queer man of color who’s witnessed firsthand the glorification of white queer men within the queer community. At another point in the novel the main character praises his (in my opinion, very boring and one-dimensional) white male partner for doing the bare minimum in terms of allyship for people of color, which I again felt frustrated by because I don’t think we should give white people cookies for doing their part in promoting racial justice.
Ugh! I hope this review doesn’t feel like too much of a downer. Onto the next read.
March 9, 2021
Rainbow Milk opens in the summer of 1959 in England. We hear from Norman Alonso, a Jamaican living in England with his wife who is seeking to provide a secure future for their children. Norman grew in Jamaica from humble beginnings, while he didn’t lack anything, his wife Glorie convinced him that life would be better in England. Life in England did not turn out how Norman expected, from illness, to a hardened marriage and racism, where was the bright future he envisioned?
Fast forward to 2002 we meet nineteen-year-old Jesse McCarthy, a Jehovah Witness who was disfellowed because of “improper behaviour”. Turned out by his community and family, Jesse runs away to London to start over, and shake the hold religion placed on him. Starting over proves harder than envisioned so Jesse turns to sex work to earn his living while he writes his book. While he is surrounded by millions, Jesse still battles with being disfellowed, the remnants of religion, his sexuality, not knowing his father and not having a community.
This is what I call addictive reading! I could not put this book down because I needed to know what happened with Jesse. I think the author did such a compelling job of exploring religion and sexuality- specifically how it is treated in the Jehovah Witness faith. I loved how he explored identity for those who grew up in the church and even after leaving, they cannot shake the teachings. This was a solid coming of book, we journey with Jesse who landed in Brixton when he was 19years until he was 34 years old.
My only draw back was that I wanted to hear more from Norman, he is such a commanding character, his voice was so strong. I felt how his story was inserted in the book was a bit clumsy, and with a stronger Editor it would have been re-worked into the narration a bit better. I also felt that the book went over the same things a little too much, that did not help with the pacing.
Regardless of those two draw backs, this is such a well written, truly beautiful account of a young Black gay disfellowed man trying to make his way in London. We need more stories like this.
Please read!
Fast forward to 2002 we meet nineteen-year-old Jesse McCarthy, a Jehovah Witness who was disfellowed because of “improper behaviour”. Turned out by his community and family, Jesse runs away to London to start over, and shake the hold religion placed on him. Starting over proves harder than envisioned so Jesse turns to sex work to earn his living while he writes his book. While he is surrounded by millions, Jesse still battles with being disfellowed, the remnants of religion, his sexuality, not knowing his father and not having a community.
This is what I call addictive reading! I could not put this book down because I needed to know what happened with Jesse. I think the author did such a compelling job of exploring religion and sexuality- specifically how it is treated in the Jehovah Witness faith. I loved how he explored identity for those who grew up in the church and even after leaving, they cannot shake the teachings. This was a solid coming of book, we journey with Jesse who landed in Brixton when he was 19years until he was 34 years old.
My only draw back was that I wanted to hear more from Norman, he is such a commanding character, his voice was so strong. I felt how his story was inserted in the book was a bit clumsy, and with a stronger Editor it would have been re-worked into the narration a bit better. I also felt that the book went over the same things a little too much, that did not help with the pacing.
Regardless of those two draw backs, this is such a well written, truly beautiful account of a young Black gay disfellowed man trying to make his way in London. We need more stories like this.
Please read!
May 6, 2021
This novel follows a young black, gay man called Jesse who lives cloistered in the Jehovah Witness community. As readers, we follow his search to be happy and loved as a gay man. The road is long and hard but the author uses Jesse's journey to show us the difficulty to be young, black and gay. Paul Mendez uses music and literature to accent certain aspects of the story which I found to be an interesting touch. While I found the character of Jesse to be naive but very likable, Rainbow Milk seems to be many puzzle pieces that we have to put together. The novel is written in sections named after different areas in England and the time jumps back and forth in the beginning which is not very explicable. The opening section called Black Country shows us where Jesse comes from and we see the lives of the Blacks that migrated there from the islands. Loved the opening! However the last section called Brixton moved at the speed of light as the author tried to tie up all the loose ends even when they didn't seem plausible. Despite all of this, Rainbow Milk is good but it just isn't great. This being said I'd definitely read Mendez's second novel.
May 19, 2021
gorgeously written, nearly unbearable to read. I frequently wanted to look away from the page. Everything was very close and very bright with this prose. The sentences felt like one dazzling tour de force of gristle and sweat after another. I craved more nuance. This is a preference, not a criticism. Im going to enjoy Mendez's second book a great deal.
June 12, 2020
Thomas Love Peacock observed that book reviews are written either by Mr Treacle or Mr Gall. In our modern culture obsessed with “likes” in one form or another, Mr Treacle dominates proceedings. If Peacock were writing today, he would have to create two new literary characters – Mr and Mrs Golden Syrup – and so acknowledge those editors who take balanced criticism, remove any offending words, and re-package articles as unqualified praise. Quite a lot of this has taken place in relation to Rainbow Milk. Colin Grant wrote a well-researched piece in The Guardian and rightly commented on how the novel’s abundant sex passages only serve to diminish the novel; “eye-poppingly frank”, as claimed by the book cover’s blurb, really means worthy of any gay porn book. Grant’s review does not support the ebullient editorial comment “A ground breaking first novel”. In a similar manner, Sarah martin in The Irish Times is supposed to have said that Rainbow Milk is “urgent, original and heartbreaking”: this is according to the publisher’s website. Actually, she used these words for the first chapter of the book … as a way of balancing out what she felt about the rest. The middle section is “baggy” and the sex scenes grow “tiresome”. The novel has problems with “pacing” and “rambles” as a result of tedious episodes that do not further plot; all of which are accurate assessments.
The first chapter opens in 1959 with the Alonso family. The writing follows a sly irony: the Black Country does not really favour Black immigrants. The writing is light and convincing, not at all like the contrived prose that follows. A reader is led to believe (by the publishing blurb) that a double narrative is beginning, past and present, an exploration of the Windrush generation and its link to the here and now. Not so. The first chapter has no relation to the novel until the final section. It is left hanging – a mysterious cliff-hanger. Unfortunately, there is little mystery. There has to be a connection and that connection has to be that Jesse McCarthy’s father is baby Robert. (A spoiler? The fact is mentioned in national reviews and it is as obvious as the fact that Hamlet is going to die in Hamlet).
Yes, Rainbow Milk tells a good story and it is readable on that level. But there are basic problems. The characters are two-dimensional. Jesse’s mother, Val, rejects him. She is, therefore, bad. There is little exploration of why: she was an unmarried, Black, single mother who fathered a child to a bisexual Black male, and married a White Jehovah's Witness. Rejection? Depression? Shame? Religious mania? Jesse remembers his maternal grandmother with affection, but as a cook. The matrix that is the son-mother bond is over-simplified by Mendez. So is the son-father bond, which becomes nothing more than a sexual projection. Jesse imagines what it would be like to touch Graham, his step-father all over, to be seduced by his spiritual father, Brother Woodall (ironically, a White male called "Uncle Tom"), to be desired by older men. Characters are without light and dark and many are drawn with such broad pen strokes that they become caricatures. In a novel that aims to represent the depths of gay Black identity, superficialities are a major flaw. Jesses's "defellowshipping" is moving described, yet the novel lacks the insight into spiritual abuse that can be found in a work such as Rebecca’s Stott’s In the Days of Rain. Again, a reader is confronted with simple badness.
The prose also does not help. It is filled with staged pieces – often signposted by musical titles and lyrics. They create dramatic ironies and serve as shorthand for Jesse’s thoughts. Mendez turns Modernist stream of consciousness into an eddy along which boats flow with pop-song lyrics on their sails. The novel strives to be intellectual, but often ends up being crass:
Like, Nick won’t even fist fuck me, for fuck’s sake … And he’s like, do you mind, I’m reading Ezra Pound … and I’m like, fuck Ezra Pound! Pound me!
Far too much of Rainbow Milk is painting by symbols. At the opening of Part 5, Brixton, a new Jesse appears. Fourteen years have lapsed since Part 4, when he met Owen. The setting is a one-bedroom flat. Two nudes hang on the wall. One is by Keith Vaughan and relates to White, Cambridge educated Owen. The White gay tradition in pictorial art. The other is by Ajamu and connects with Black, working class experience. The Black gay tradition in photographic art. The two nudes represent the changed relationship shared by Owen and Jesse. And the symbolism stands for what isn’t in the novel: the years that saw Jesse convert sexual knowledge into emotional and intellectual knowledge and learn what it was to be a gay, Black male. The most vital part of the novel doesn’t exist. What has changed Jesse? The writings of Essex Hemphill? Joseph Beam? Asotto Saint? Dirg Aaab-Richards? The films of Isaac Julien? The critical works of Kobena Mercer or Stuart Hall? What art has created the sea-change? What emotions has he lived through to create the new self? A reader is supposed to recognise the epiphany when Jesse takes down a copy of Rotimi Fani-Kayode and Alex-Hirst (1997) - an artistic testament to a Black-White, same sex relationship. Or assume that Black Lives Matter blogs on Tumblr worked magic: the internet became a Road to Damascus.
But this reader would have liked to experience the development in detail rather than live through countless, all-inclusive sex scenes And that ultimately is why Rainbow Milk is not “a remarkable debut” that adds much to literature and why it is somewhat disingenuous of other writers to pretend that this is a ground-breaking novel. It is bold and ambitious, but too much of the novel is devoted to the stereotype. A Black male who boasts a large penis and enjoys being the object of White male desire? That is hardly a novel element in the world of gay fiction! Supposedly, Jesse has read Fanon. Unfortunately, he has not read the provocative question that Terry Goldie raised in relation to Fanon and inter-racial attraction: What is a homosexual when he is not having sex? Semantically, he cannot exist beyond the sexual definition that limits him. Yet he does. And he must. That core exploration is absent from Rainbow Milk. Mendez lauds Baldwin throughout his novel – the Baldwin of Giovanni’s Room, Another Country, and fiery polemics. But what about the late Baldwin who wrote Just Above My Head and studied tenderness in the face of White, racist, patriarchal oppression, the cathartic love open to Black men? Rather than "test the limits of sexual freedom", as The Guardian claims, the bulk of this novel depicts the walls of the sexual prison. The rainbow has stood for millennia (in the archetypal unconscious) as a sign for the integration of contradictions and for the transformation of the self - if only the novel had focused on this more (the counter to religious and sexual enslavement) rather than musty bedrooms and seedy public toilets.
The first chapter opens in 1959 with the Alonso family. The writing follows a sly irony: the Black Country does not really favour Black immigrants. The writing is light and convincing, not at all like the contrived prose that follows. A reader is led to believe (by the publishing blurb) that a double narrative is beginning, past and present, an exploration of the Windrush generation and its link to the here and now. Not so. The first chapter has no relation to the novel until the final section. It is left hanging – a mysterious cliff-hanger. Unfortunately, there is little mystery. There has to be a connection and that connection has to be that Jesse McCarthy’s father is baby Robert. (A spoiler? The fact is mentioned in national reviews and it is as obvious as the fact that Hamlet is going to die in Hamlet).
Yes, Rainbow Milk tells a good story and it is readable on that level. But there are basic problems. The characters are two-dimensional. Jesse’s mother, Val, rejects him. She is, therefore, bad. There is little exploration of why: she was an unmarried, Black, single mother who fathered a child to a bisexual Black male, and married a White Jehovah's Witness. Rejection? Depression? Shame? Religious mania? Jesse remembers his maternal grandmother with affection, but as a cook. The matrix that is the son-mother bond is over-simplified by Mendez. So is the son-father bond, which becomes nothing more than a sexual projection. Jesse imagines what it would be like to touch Graham, his step-father all over, to be seduced by his spiritual father, Brother Woodall (ironically, a White male called "Uncle Tom"), to be desired by older men. Characters are without light and dark and many are drawn with such broad pen strokes that they become caricatures. In a novel that aims to represent the depths of gay Black identity, superficialities are a major flaw. Jesses's "defellowshipping" is moving described, yet the novel lacks the insight into spiritual abuse that can be found in a work such as Rebecca’s Stott’s In the Days of Rain. Again, a reader is confronted with simple badness.
The prose also does not help. It is filled with staged pieces – often signposted by musical titles and lyrics. They create dramatic ironies and serve as shorthand for Jesse’s thoughts. Mendez turns Modernist stream of consciousness into an eddy along which boats flow with pop-song lyrics on their sails. The novel strives to be intellectual, but often ends up being crass:
Like, Nick won’t even fist fuck me, for fuck’s sake … And he’s like, do you mind, I’m reading Ezra Pound … and I’m like, fuck Ezra Pound! Pound me!
Far too much of Rainbow Milk is painting by symbols. At the opening of Part 5, Brixton, a new Jesse appears. Fourteen years have lapsed since Part 4, when he met Owen. The setting is a one-bedroom flat. Two nudes hang on the wall. One is by Keith Vaughan and relates to White, Cambridge educated Owen. The White gay tradition in pictorial art. The other is by Ajamu and connects with Black, working class experience. The Black gay tradition in photographic art. The two nudes represent the changed relationship shared by Owen and Jesse. And the symbolism stands for what isn’t in the novel: the years that saw Jesse convert sexual knowledge into emotional and intellectual knowledge and learn what it was to be a gay, Black male. The most vital part of the novel doesn’t exist. What has changed Jesse? The writings of Essex Hemphill? Joseph Beam? Asotto Saint? Dirg Aaab-Richards? The films of Isaac Julien? The critical works of Kobena Mercer or Stuart Hall? What art has created the sea-change? What emotions has he lived through to create the new self? A reader is supposed to recognise the epiphany when Jesse takes down a copy of Rotimi Fani-Kayode and Alex-Hirst (1997) - an artistic testament to a Black-White, same sex relationship. Or assume that Black Lives Matter blogs on Tumblr worked magic: the internet became a Road to Damascus.
But this reader would have liked to experience the development in detail rather than live through countless, all-inclusive sex scenes And that ultimately is why Rainbow Milk is not “a remarkable debut” that adds much to literature and why it is somewhat disingenuous of other writers to pretend that this is a ground-breaking novel. It is bold and ambitious, but too much of the novel is devoted to the stereotype. A Black male who boasts a large penis and enjoys being the object of White male desire? That is hardly a novel element in the world of gay fiction! Supposedly, Jesse has read Fanon. Unfortunately, he has not read the provocative question that Terry Goldie raised in relation to Fanon and inter-racial attraction: What is a homosexual when he is not having sex? Semantically, he cannot exist beyond the sexual definition that limits him. Yet he does. And he must. That core exploration is absent from Rainbow Milk. Mendez lauds Baldwin throughout his novel – the Baldwin of Giovanni’s Room, Another Country, and fiery polemics. But what about the late Baldwin who wrote Just Above My Head and studied tenderness in the face of White, racist, patriarchal oppression, the cathartic love open to Black men? Rather than "test the limits of sexual freedom", as The Guardian claims, the bulk of this novel depicts the walls of the sexual prison. The rainbow has stood for millennia (in the archetypal unconscious) as a sign for the integration of contradictions and for the transformation of the self - if only the novel had focused on this more (the counter to religious and sexual enslavement) rather than musty bedrooms and seedy public toilets.
May 14, 2020
Rarely have I read a debut novel that conveys the piercingly accurate immediacy of its central characters' experiences with such grace and insight. “Rainbow Milk” begins with the story of Norman Alonso, a horticulturist and former-boxer from Jamaica who moves his family to England as part of the Windrush generation. He suffers from a debilitating illness which is causing him to lose his sight and he finds working and integrating into a small British community much more challenging than he expected. His situation and character is described with poignant delicacy so I was initially thrown when the story abruptly moves on to follow Jesse McCarthy, a teenage boy from the West Midlands who moves to London at the beginning of the millennium. But I soon felt an intense affinity and affection for this character whose story comprises the bulk of the novel. The way the author captures Jesse's fierce confidence as well as his vulnerability is so sympathetic and true to life. Only much later does the tale loop back to a connection with Norman and his family in a way which is achingly beautiful.
I recognize that in many ways Jesse's experience is very different from my own. He's a black young man who grew up in a predominantly white society and he was raised as a Jehovah's Witness. But I intensely connected to him as a gay boy that moved from a small community to the city. Read my full review of Rainbow Milk by Paul Mendez on LonesomeReader
I recognize that in many ways Jesse's experience is very different from my own. He's a black young man who grew up in a predominantly white society and he was raised as a Jehovah's Witness. But I intensely connected to him as a gay boy that moved from a small community to the city. Read my full review of Rainbow Milk by Paul Mendez on LonesomeReader
April 15, 2021
Now longlisted for the 2021 Desmond Elliott Prize for debut fiction
This book was sourced and published by Sharmaine Lovegrove and her Dialogue book imprint with Little Brown.
Paul Mendez, the author, has in the past worked as a actor and voice actor (in particular recording the audio book for Ian Wright’s autobiography). He has said that one thing that particularly inspired him to write was the character of Leo in Alan Hollinghurst’s “Line of Beauty”, and it was while acting that part that he met the author of that Booker prize winning book (who is now his partner).
Like many debut novels this book has strong autobiographical roots. Its main third party narrator is Jesse: like the author Jesse grows up as a Jehovah’s witness (although unlike the author, via a white stepfather) and is effectively expelled from that fellowship at age 17 and then travels on to London (in Jesse’s case, 6 months later in 2002: in Mendez’s 5 years later in 2004) where, among other things, he becomes a sex worker.
Jesse’s first week in London includes these two events
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=UHaUowB...
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ks4swBI...
But the book starts some 43 years earlier and with a bravura and beautifully written section featuring Norman Alonso, a member of the Windrush generation, born in Jamaica. An ex-boxer, he also in Jamaica becomes a naturally talented gardener – getting a job as private gardener to the owner of a large plantation house – and the same talents in England (where he moves to the Black Country) initially enable him to gain a good job with the council (and a strong relationship with his boss) and an associated council house. But by the time when the first section is narrated (in the first person) racial harassment has caused him to quit his job and on setting blindness has meant he stays at home trying to look after his young children (including his son Robert) while his wife works.
This section is excellent – the tale in some ways is a familiar one but the Black County setting and the gardening angle mean that Mendez gives it a fresh new perspective and Norman is a perceptive observer of himself, others and of English society and the contradictions between (and dishonesty within) the post war government’s immigration policies and their public rhetoric .
The section also cleverly foreshadows elements of Jesse’s story: in particular the ambiguity of Norman’s relationship with two older, single white men (the plantation owner and council boss); less obviously, he and his wife are unsettled by a railway suicide – their first hint that all is not well in the promised land – and a similar unsettling incident occurs early in Jesse’s time in London.
It is then something of a shock to the reader when the story jumps after 50 or so pages to 2002 – and Jesse in London, with a sexual encounter with a sensitive and concerned client, that is described in graphic and celebratory detail.
Autobiographically inspired novels have the advantage of authenticity of voice and story – the recounting of the life of a young black man, having had his racial and sexual identity and desires largely (if not entirely) suppressed, suddenly finding (and realising he may as well take commercial advantage of) the sexual of early 21st Century London is raw and urgent – and turns an unflinching gaze on sexuality and sex.
The way in which the account also captures the depressingly wide spectrum of overt and covert racism to which Jesse is subject, is also very well done, the racism acting as almost a constant undercurrent to all aspects of his London life in a way that is perhaps even worse than the more blatant racism he experienced growing up in Dudley.
Jesse’s reflections on his relationship with his now completely estranged parents and in particular what he sees as the gradual betrayal of him by his mother is powerful, and even if one-sided, it I think reflects the pain of some strongly remembered incidents in which his self-worth is, in stages, destroyed.
But if there is a common fault with debut novels (particularly autobiographical ones) it is the tendency to include too much detail. And in this case, the unflinching gaze is deployed too other areas of the novel. As a result I found far too much of the surrounding writing in this, main, section poorly executed.
The book is often an extreme case of tell now show, and the dialogue is very unconvincing: far too often, as it seemingly concerned that the reader may not understand the allusions, it feels like the author is addressing readers directly via his characters, who give explanations – a classic example is when Owen (Jesse’s eventual partner- and as an aside having a third character remark on the combination of names does not excuse their choice) recommends a book by Huysmans.
I also struggled with the reproduction of accents – capturing Patois and Jesse’s Black Country accent when he first goes to London, can, I can see, be said to further the book – but, at least for a period, it seems every accent is reproduced : the nadir being a French waitress in a restaurant (the two sections set in restaurants being classic examples of the extraneous details which should have been edited from the book).
Mendez is excellent in capturing music: how Jesse reacts to music when he reads it for the first time; how certain songs adopt Proustian Powers for him; how his parent’s unwillingness for him to listen to black music lead to him learning from other at school and ending up a “black boy trying to be a white boy trying to be a black boy” – but even there much of the power of the music was ruined for me by the way in which the characters take turns explaining to each other (but really to us) the background to the music or the band playing it. (Again – having one character ask another if he is a music agent given all of the detail provided is not an excuse for doing this).
At the book’s end (after possibly the low point over a dinner party scene) the two story lines of Norman and Jesse are neatly bought together.
A book which I think could have been better, albeit one which I think will feature on many book awards. And a brief episode at a literary book award is one of the highlights of the second part of the book.
“I’m sure the life you’re living, set against the way you were raised, is giving you plenty to think about, and writing is the best way to order one’s thoughts, so keep it going”
This book was sourced and published by Sharmaine Lovegrove and her Dialogue book imprint with Little Brown.
Paul Mendez, the author, has in the past worked as a actor and voice actor (in particular recording the audio book for Ian Wright’s autobiography). He has said that one thing that particularly inspired him to write was the character of Leo in Alan Hollinghurst’s “Line of Beauty”, and it was while acting that part that he met the author of that Booker prize winning book (who is now his partner).
Like many debut novels this book has strong autobiographical roots. Its main third party narrator is Jesse: like the author Jesse grows up as a Jehovah’s witness (although unlike the author, via a white stepfather) and is effectively expelled from that fellowship at age 17 and then travels on to London (in Jesse’s case, 6 months later in 2002: in Mendez’s 5 years later in 2004) where, among other things, he becomes a sex worker.
Jesse’s first week in London includes these two events
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=UHaUowB...
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ks4swBI...
But the book starts some 43 years earlier and with a bravura and beautifully written section featuring Norman Alonso, a member of the Windrush generation, born in Jamaica. An ex-boxer, he also in Jamaica becomes a naturally talented gardener – getting a job as private gardener to the owner of a large plantation house – and the same talents in England (where he moves to the Black Country) initially enable him to gain a good job with the council (and a strong relationship with his boss) and an associated council house. But by the time when the first section is narrated (in the first person) racial harassment has caused him to quit his job and on setting blindness has meant he stays at home trying to look after his young children (including his son Robert) while his wife works.
This section is excellent – the tale in some ways is a familiar one but the Black County setting and the gardening angle mean that Mendez gives it a fresh new perspective and Norman is a perceptive observer of himself, others and of English society and the contradictions between (and dishonesty within) the post war government’s immigration policies and their public rhetoric .
The section also cleverly foreshadows elements of Jesse’s story: in particular the ambiguity of Norman’s relationship with two older, single white men (the plantation owner and council boss); less obviously, he and his wife are unsettled by a railway suicide – their first hint that all is not well in the promised land – and a similar unsettling incident occurs early in Jesse’s time in London.
It is then something of a shock to the reader when the story jumps after 50 or so pages to 2002 – and Jesse in London, with a sexual encounter with a sensitive and concerned client, that is described in graphic and celebratory detail.
Autobiographically inspired novels have the advantage of authenticity of voice and story – the recounting of the life of a young black man, having had his racial and sexual identity and desires largely (if not entirely) suppressed, suddenly finding (and realising he may as well take commercial advantage of) the sexual of early 21st Century London is raw and urgent – and turns an unflinching gaze on sexuality and sex.
The way in which the account also captures the depressingly wide spectrum of overt and covert racism to which Jesse is subject, is also very well done, the racism acting as almost a constant undercurrent to all aspects of his London life in a way that is perhaps even worse than the more blatant racism he experienced growing up in Dudley.
Jesse’s reflections on his relationship with his now completely estranged parents and in particular what he sees as the gradual betrayal of him by his mother is powerful, and even if one-sided, it I think reflects the pain of some strongly remembered incidents in which his self-worth is, in stages, destroyed.
But if there is a common fault with debut novels (particularly autobiographical ones) it is the tendency to include too much detail. And in this case, the unflinching gaze is deployed too other areas of the novel. As a result I found far too much of the surrounding writing in this, main, section poorly executed.
The book is often an extreme case of tell now show, and the dialogue is very unconvincing: far too often, as it seemingly concerned that the reader may not understand the allusions, it feels like the author is addressing readers directly via his characters, who give explanations – a classic example is when Owen (Jesse’s eventual partner- and as an aside having a third character remark on the combination of names does not excuse their choice) recommends a book by Huysmans.
I also struggled with the reproduction of accents – capturing Patois and Jesse’s Black Country accent when he first goes to London, can, I can see, be said to further the book – but, at least for a period, it seems every accent is reproduced : the nadir being a French waitress in a restaurant (the two sections set in restaurants being classic examples of the extraneous details which should have been edited from the book).
Mendez is excellent in capturing music: how Jesse reacts to music when he reads it for the first time; how certain songs adopt Proustian Powers for him; how his parent’s unwillingness for him to listen to black music lead to him learning from other at school and ending up a “black boy trying to be a white boy trying to be a black boy” – but even there much of the power of the music was ruined for me by the way in which the characters take turns explaining to each other (but really to us) the background to the music or the band playing it. (Again – having one character ask another if he is a music agent given all of the detail provided is not an excuse for doing this).
At the book’s end (after possibly the low point over a dinner party scene) the two story lines of Norman and Jesse are neatly bought together.
A book which I think could have been better, albeit one which I think will feature on many book awards. And a brief episode at a literary book award is one of the highlights of the second part of the book.
June 16, 2020
There's a lot to admire about this courageous debut novel that feels like it landed at just the right moment. But it's far from perfect.
The novel opens with a glorious 60-page prologue, telling the story of Norman, a Jamaican family man trying to make a life in the Midlands. The writing in this opening section is so, so strong. It's first person, in Norman's accent, and feels authentic, engaging and heartfelt.
Norman arrives in England to find life isn't what he expected. Upon arrival in the black country, he quips, "We leave the garden of Eden for the Land of Milk and Honey and find Sodom and Gomorrah."
But that's pretty much it for Norman's story. Such a shame as Mendez had created a brilliant, believable storytelling voice at this point.
We then move on to Jesse, a young black boy coming of age in the Midlands, struggling with his sexual and religious identity. Thrown out of his family's branch of Jehovah's Witnesses after his homosexuality comes to light, he eventually leaves home for London, where he hopes to find his true life.
Jesse's story is certainly affecting - particularly in his sexual awakening, which bares all the scars of his upbringing. And his encounters with racism feel wholly relevant and yet depressingly familiar.
But there is a lot of writing. Way too much. I was getting itchy for some sort of resolution by page 250 and the end still felt so far away. At 100 pages shorter, with all the guff chopped out, this would be magnificent. As it is, it's only alright. You get the feeling the next thing he produces will be killer, though.
The novel opens with a glorious 60-page prologue, telling the story of Norman, a Jamaican family man trying to make a life in the Midlands. The writing in this opening section is so, so strong. It's first person, in Norman's accent, and feels authentic, engaging and heartfelt.
Norman arrives in England to find life isn't what he expected. Upon arrival in the black country, he quips, "We leave the garden of Eden for the Land of Milk and Honey and find Sodom and Gomorrah."
But that's pretty much it for Norman's story. Such a shame as Mendez had created a brilliant, believable storytelling voice at this point.
We then move on to Jesse, a young black boy coming of age in the Midlands, struggling with his sexual and religious identity. Thrown out of his family's branch of Jehovah's Witnesses after his homosexuality comes to light, he eventually leaves home for London, where he hopes to find his true life.
Jesse's story is certainly affecting - particularly in his sexual awakening, which bares all the scars of his upbringing. And his encounters with racism feel wholly relevant and yet depressingly familiar.
But there is a lot of writing. Way too much. I was getting itchy for some sort of resolution by page 250 and the end still felt so far away. At 100 pages shorter, with all the guff chopped out, this would be magnificent. As it is, it's only alright. You get the feeling the next thing he produces will be killer, though.
May 12, 2021
A very strong debut literary fiction novel by Paul Mendez! Instead of giving you a synopsis, I will dive right into how I felt about this story—I went in without reading the synopsis and I actually think you should as well! This story is an intergenerational depiction on what it means to be Black and Queer historically in the United Kingdom. From microaggressions, to flat out racist and homophobic rhetoric,
Rainbow Milk
shows how several individuals navigate this trying and difficult behavioral aspects in society. I can't help but see the similarities with this story and the treatment of Black and Queer people in US history as well. The story is very fast paced, moving through decades of history for our main character. There's defining moments in this story—sex work, racial disparities that may be hard for people to digest, but it's the reality people have dealt with and I appreciated the honest candor behind it.
Rainbow Milk
will be released in the US on June 8th, and if this book isn't in your Pride Month reading list, you definitely need to add it now.
September 1, 2020
I really wanted to love this book but I didn't.
The book starts by telling the story of Norman, a Jamaican immigrant who has just arrived in the Uk in the 1950s - We hear his story in his voice and accent - it's beautiful and I wanted to know more of what happened to him but after 4 chapters we don't hear about him again. His story just ends abruptly without having ended.
The rest of the book focuses on Jesse, a gay Jehovah's Witness growing up in the 2000s. There are just too many random scenes thrown in that don't add anything to the story. And far too many music references -it's almost like the author is throwing a Wikipedia page of the Sugababes at the reader - it adds nothing and I found myself skipping pages when a banal music encyclopedia started.
There are too many obvious sex and drug scenes that seem to have been thrown in for 'shock' value and we never hear how Jesse emotionally feels - he's gone from being told that homosexuality is a sin to losing his virginity quickly in a toilet to a stranger - there then follows sex scene after sex scene.
I really wanted to love this book but it just didn't flow as a story as it was padded out with too many unimportant sub-scenes and music information.
The book starts by telling the story of Norman, a Jamaican immigrant who has just arrived in the Uk in the 1950s - We hear his story in his voice and accent - it's beautiful and I wanted to know more of what happened to him but after 4 chapters we don't hear about him again. His story just ends abruptly without having ended.
The rest of the book focuses on Jesse, a gay Jehovah's Witness growing up in the 2000s. There are just too many random scenes thrown in that don't add anything to the story. And far too many music references -it's almost like the author is throwing a Wikipedia page of the Sugababes at the reader - it adds nothing and I found myself skipping pages when a banal music encyclopedia started.
There are too many obvious sex and drug scenes that seem to have been thrown in for 'shock' value and we never hear how Jesse emotionally feels - he's gone from being told that homosexuality is a sin to losing his virginity quickly in a toilet to a stranger - there then follows sex scene after sex scene.
I really wanted to love this book but it just didn't flow as a story as it was padded out with too many unimportant sub-scenes and music information.
March 27, 2020
I was blown away by Rainbow Milk. The writing is so good and the character at the centre of it, Jesse, is just so very thunderingly alive. There is a long section set on a mild, sunny Christmas Day in a London house-share, with two characters drinking champagne all day and listening to music, and Jesse discovering Joy Division, and it's honestly one of the best passages of fiction I think I've read in years. It's so simple on the surface but there is SO much happening.
There's a lot of sex and a lot of music in Rainbow Milk, and Jesse's relationship with those things is complicated and rooted in a certain amount of trauma. I loved how the novel treated those subjects with both seriousness and joy. And there are so many small details which are brilliant, like what it's like to wait tables during a busy lunch shift in a London restaurant, or the way 9/11 affected people's thoughts in the early 2000s. Just so much going on in this book. I hope it's winning awards this time next year.
There's a lot of sex and a lot of music in Rainbow Milk, and Jesse's relationship with those things is complicated and rooted in a certain amount of trauma. I loved how the novel treated those subjects with both seriousness and joy. And there are so many small details which are brilliant, like what it's like to wait tables during a busy lunch shift in a London restaurant, or the way 9/11 affected people's thoughts in the early 2000s. Just so much going on in this book. I hope it's winning awards this time next year.
August 13, 2021
4 1/2 stars. A young man deals with being black, gay & raised in a strict devout religion in England. I can relate to two of these situations so this really resonated with me. I also love the authors use of music and songs throughout. I can see how this will in no way be a five star book for many readers but personally I thought it was a fantastic read.
February 6, 2021
Rainbow Milk is difficult to pin down immediately, or indeed at all: the first part of the book tells the story of a Jamaican couple, part of the Windrush generation, who come to live in a far-from-idyllic Black Country town in the 1950s; the rest is devoted to a coming-of-age tale about a young gay black man from a Jehovah’s Witness family, who runs away to London and becomes a sex worker. Some critics have described the novel as ‘raw’, a term that seems to suit it well, capturing both its flaws and its greatest strengths: its narrative looseness, its vicious honesty.
The things I liked:
– Mendez’s ability to capture accents in both dialogue and narrative. It can so easily be cringe-inducing when people’s voices are reduced to a sort of phonetic spelling, but Mendez knows just how to balance this technique, whether evoking Jamaican patois or a Brummie burr. I could hear the voices in my head.
– The sex scenes. Vivid, unflinching, fully believable. They also explore Jesse’s sometimes troubling attraction to middle-aged white men in revealing, uncomfortable fashion.
– The music! Music is tied to emotion so effectively that I immediately wanted to listen to practically every song mentioned. In particular, Mendez brings early-2000s London to LIFE through mentions of the music Jesse enjoys and what it means to him.
– The setpieces. Because now that I look back at this book, I see it as a story organised around key, very memorable scenes, quite long and detailed, that linger in the mind and serve to solidify the characters. Jesse and Fraser smoking and listening to Jay-Z; Jesse and Owen’s Christmas Day; Jesse and his partner attending a party at their friend’s country house. These are the parts of Rainbow Milk I will remember when the rest of the plot has fallen away.
The things I didn’t like:
– The restaurant scenes. Not that they’re awful, they just didn’t work very well for me, I think because I’ve read Sweetbitter, which has a lot of these types of scenes but makes them terrifyingly vibrant, humming with energy – you’re right there. These restaurant scenes don’t measure up either to Sweetbitter or to the lucid scenes found elsewhere in Rainbow Milk.
– There’s a nasty joke made at the expense of a fat person, a very small part of the story but one that really stuck with me; it’s the sort of tired wisecrack you’d expect to hear from an ageing right-wing comedian, and seemed entirely out of place in a book like this.
And then there’s that looseness in the structure, which could fit into either category. After the first part, I expected the story to move back and forth through time, but it only does so inasmuch as it occasionally jumps forward a bit in Jesse’s life. The pacing could certainly be tighter, but I wasn’t enormously bothered by this; I enjoyed the writing and the characters enough to let the story take me wherever.
The flaws, really, are failures of editing, rather than of the writing itself. Rainbow Milk tells a story both moving and engrossing, one that’s clearly very personal for the author. If the publisher’s description of it as ‘an intersectional coming-of-age story’ sounds a bit overly earnest, it’s definitely accurate, and how refreshing it is to read such a different take on a familiar genre. Paul Mendez’s writing is exciting. I find myself wondering what kind of book he’ll write next, and looking forward to it.
TinyLetter | Linktree
The things I liked:
– Mendez’s ability to capture accents in both dialogue and narrative. It can so easily be cringe-inducing when people’s voices are reduced to a sort of phonetic spelling, but Mendez knows just how to balance this technique, whether evoking Jamaican patois or a Brummie burr. I could hear the voices in my head.
– The sex scenes. Vivid, unflinching, fully believable. They also explore Jesse’s sometimes troubling attraction to middle-aged white men in revealing, uncomfortable fashion.
– The music! Music is tied to emotion so effectively that I immediately wanted to listen to practically every song mentioned. In particular, Mendez brings early-2000s London to LIFE through mentions of the music Jesse enjoys and what it means to him.
– The setpieces. Because now that I look back at this book, I see it as a story organised around key, very memorable scenes, quite long and detailed, that linger in the mind and serve to solidify the characters. Jesse and Fraser smoking and listening to Jay-Z; Jesse and Owen’s Christmas Day; Jesse and his partner attending a party at their friend’s country house. These are the parts of Rainbow Milk I will remember when the rest of the plot has fallen away.
The things I didn’t like:
– The restaurant scenes. Not that they’re awful, they just didn’t work very well for me, I think because I’ve read Sweetbitter, which has a lot of these types of scenes but makes them terrifyingly vibrant, humming with energy – you’re right there. These restaurant scenes don’t measure up either to Sweetbitter or to the lucid scenes found elsewhere in Rainbow Milk.
– There’s a nasty joke made at the expense of a fat person, a very small part of the story but one that really stuck with me; it’s the sort of tired wisecrack you’d expect to hear from an ageing right-wing comedian, and seemed entirely out of place in a book like this.
And then there’s that looseness in the structure, which could fit into either category. After the first part, I expected the story to move back and forth through time, but it only does so inasmuch as it occasionally jumps forward a bit in Jesse’s life. The pacing could certainly be tighter, but I wasn’t enormously bothered by this; I enjoyed the writing and the characters enough to let the story take me wherever.
The flaws, really, are failures of editing, rather than of the writing itself. Rainbow Milk tells a story both moving and engrossing, one that’s clearly very personal for the author. If the publisher’s description of it as ‘an intersectional coming-of-age story’ sounds a bit overly earnest, it’s definitely accurate, and how refreshing it is to read such a different take on a familiar genre. Paul Mendez’s writing is exciting. I find myself wondering what kind of book he’ll write next, and looking forward to it.
TinyLetter | Linktree
July 27, 2021
Rainbow Milk’ explores the life of Jess McCarthy, a young man who finds himself cast adrift in London after being disowned by his Jehovah Witness family. There is something visceral about the story, something raw and real, as the reader follows Jess’s journey, from the self-abnegation he experiences as a Black man in a society which holds so many preconceptions about who he should be and how he should act, to the descriptions of sex, the scenes dripping with sweat and semen, with the sense of exploitation of being a sex worker mixed with the euphoria Jess feels from sex, which allows him to retain a sense of his humanity.
The story starts with the story of Norman, as he immigrates to Britain and finds his illusions of an idyllic life shattered beneath the constant racism and lack of opportunities he suffers, with the sense of lightness exuded by Norman gradually transforming into something far darker. Jess, his grandson, continues this trend, as he feels alone and hopelessly alienated amidst his orthodox friends and family, only to escape to London to experience an even more profound sense of isolation, an isolation which cuts through his every-day experiences, from the dehumanising nature of being a sex worker, which is made all the worse for how he is fetishized for being a gay and Black, the racism the experiences is far more subtle and underhand than what his grandfather went through. All of this plays into Jess’s insecurities, of being impossible to love, of being adrift from other people and society, a feeling which he is able to gradually overcome via a number of love affairs, normally with older white men, culminating in his relationship with Owen. Indeed Owen’s love allows him to break free from his cocoon, to emerge, as from a chrysalis, a strong and confident person who is sure of their place in the world.
Although some of the dialogue and descriptions in ‘Rainbow Milk’ can feel a little clunky, it nonetheless remains a brilliant account of one man’s voyage of self-discovery in a world in which he feels constantly rejected due to the colour of his skin and sexuality.
The story starts with the story of Norman, as he immigrates to Britain and finds his illusions of an idyllic life shattered beneath the constant racism and lack of opportunities he suffers, with the sense of lightness exuded by Norman gradually transforming into something far darker. Jess, his grandson, continues this trend, as he feels alone and hopelessly alienated amidst his orthodox friends and family, only to escape to London to experience an even more profound sense of isolation, an isolation which cuts through his every-day experiences, from the dehumanising nature of being a sex worker, which is made all the worse for how he is fetishized for being a gay and Black, the racism the experiences is far more subtle and underhand than what his grandfather went through. All of this plays into Jess’s insecurities, of being impossible to love, of being adrift from other people and society, a feeling which he is able to gradually overcome via a number of love affairs, normally with older white men, culminating in his relationship with Owen. Indeed Owen’s love allows him to break free from his cocoon, to emerge, as from a chrysalis, a strong and confident person who is sure of their place in the world.
Although some of the dialogue and descriptions in ‘Rainbow Milk’ can feel a little clunky, it nonetheless remains a brilliant account of one man’s voyage of self-discovery in a world in which he feels constantly rejected due to the colour of his skin and sexuality.
February 7, 2022
An impressive debut novel that was widely tipped for the 2021 Booker but missed out despite the unusually large number of first novels on that longlist.
Most of the book is a rites of passage story set in the early 2000s, following Jesse, a young black gay man and aspiring writer's escape to London from his mother and white stepfather who are Jehovah's Witnesses in the Black Country.
This is bookended by the short first part, narrated by Jesse's grandfather Norman Alonso, a recent immigrant from Jamaica struggling to bring up two children in a hostile country as his eyesight is failing, and the final part set in 2016 in which Jesse has found a degree of love and fulfilment, and finally finds out more about his painter father.
Most of the book is a rites of passage story set in the early 2000s, following Jesse, a young black gay man and aspiring writer's escape to London from his mother and white stepfather who are Jehovah's Witnesses in the Black Country.
This is bookended by the short first part, narrated by Jesse's grandfather Norman Alonso, a recent immigrant from Jamaica struggling to bring up two children in a hostile country as his eyesight is failing, and the final part set in 2016 in which Jesse has found a degree of love and fulfilment, and finally finds out more about his painter father.
March 21, 2022
Brilliant! Brilliant! Brilliant!
My review will be up later but it’s my favourite book of the year so far.
My review will be up later but it’s my favourite book of the year so far.
September 28, 2023
May contain spoilers?
A liberating story of a young man’s fight to find love and a life worth living, in a world of prejudice.
Windrush and its immediate aftermath is the setting of the novel. A real feel for life in this so – called ‘sceptred’ isle as viewed from the other side - West Indian in the ‘50s and ‘60s and beyond. It feels autobiographical -and from the afterword it seems it is.
We spend the first few pages with a West Indian former boxer. He comes to the motherland, that his brother lost his life for, fighting in WW2. An asset to any country, he is now losing his sight and
trying desperately to hold on to his self respect. The odds are stacked against him.
This sets the scene and flavour for Jesse, a generation or so removed, and his life story. This forms the bulk of the novel. Jesse is a ‘love child’ born to a self absorbed West Indian mother who resents his existence, or so it seems. His father’s identity is a mystery to him. Apart from a fleeting memory, he knows nothing about him. His mother persists that he is dead. She takes up with a white man and they have children together and Jesse grows up with them. They are all Jehovah’s Witnesses and Jesse is an aspiring and successful young ‘brother’, looked up to in the fellowship for his spotless example of clean living and for bringing stragglers into the fold.
All is not as it might seem, however, and Jesse is struggling with his inner ‘demons’ which centre on his sexuality. An overwhelming need for a father figure, love and more, which he cannot get from either his family or their arid, even acrid faith, which prefers the punishment of the Old Testament to the love, understanding and forgiveness of the New. Hence the Saviour’s birth is not celebrated by them.
Disowned by them, following a transgression, Jesse makes a new life for himself and soon discovers that the devil has all the best tunes. But he shows that he knows his discography as well as he ever knew his biblical texts. He is ‘born again’.
A liberating story of a young man’s fight to find love and a life worth living, in a world of prejudice.
Windrush and its immediate aftermath is the setting of the novel. A real feel for life in this so – called ‘sceptred’ isle as viewed from the other side - West Indian in the ‘50s and ‘60s and beyond. It feels autobiographical -and from the afterword it seems it is.
We spend the first few pages with a West Indian former boxer. He comes to the motherland, that his brother lost his life for, fighting in WW2. An asset to any country, he is now losing his sight and
trying desperately to hold on to his self respect. The odds are stacked against him.
This sets the scene and flavour for Jesse, a generation or so removed, and his life story. This forms the bulk of the novel. Jesse is a ‘love child’ born to a self absorbed West Indian mother who resents his existence, or so it seems. His father’s identity is a mystery to him. Apart from a fleeting memory, he knows nothing about him. His mother persists that he is dead. She takes up with a white man and they have children together and Jesse grows up with them. They are all Jehovah’s Witnesses and Jesse is an aspiring and successful young ‘brother’, looked up to in the fellowship for his spotless example of clean living and for bringing stragglers into the fold.
All is not as it might seem, however, and Jesse is struggling with his inner ‘demons’ which centre on his sexuality. An overwhelming need for a father figure, love and more, which he cannot get from either his family or their arid, even acrid faith, which prefers the punishment of the Old Testament to the love, understanding and forgiveness of the New. Hence the Saviour’s birth is not celebrated by them.
Disowned by them, following a transgression, Jesse makes a new life for himself and soon discovers that the devil has all the best tunes. But he shows that he knows his discography as well as he ever knew his biblical texts. He is ‘born again’.
June 6, 2020
I have so much love for this book.
My words wont do this book justice but I'll give it a go.
It talks about race, sexuality and religion in a way I've not really read before, it was so honest and raw. As a straight, white women I can't relate to a lot of what happens in this book but Mendez has written it in such a way and so well that I felt it all. He made my heart swell with joy and hope and wrenched it with the sadness and the oppression.
I absolutely adored his references to music throughout the book and how different songs were used to transport us to different memories.
The book starts with how Norman and his pregnant wife move to England from Jamaica to start a new life after it being sold as somewhere they can prosper and build a better life but then on arrival it dawns on them that it isn't as imagined and are met with blatant racism.
It then moves on to Jesse, a Black, gay teenage boy who has been disfellowshipped from his Jehovah's Witness community and family and run away to London. We follow him through this time as he learns to live outside of this religion and how this upbringing of living by the bible may have effected how he sees himself within his sexuality.
There are so many things to reflect on from this book, it covers so many aspects of racism from a gay, Black man's point of view, and what it is to be a Black man in this country and the racism that is dealt with on a daily basis, from complete strangers and then more surprisingly sometimes within their own family.
Ive not read many books by Black male authors as I tend to go for female authors but in this I am limiting my perspective on the world so I am definitely going to be more open in which authors I look for.
I would definitely recommend reading this book.
My words wont do this book justice but I'll give it a go.
It talks about race, sexuality and religion in a way I've not really read before, it was so honest and raw. As a straight, white women I can't relate to a lot of what happens in this book but Mendez has written it in such a way and so well that I felt it all. He made my heart swell with joy and hope and wrenched it with the sadness and the oppression.
I absolutely adored his references to music throughout the book and how different songs were used to transport us to different memories.
The book starts with how Norman and his pregnant wife move to England from Jamaica to start a new life after it being sold as somewhere they can prosper and build a better life but then on arrival it dawns on them that it isn't as imagined and are met with blatant racism.
It then moves on to Jesse, a Black, gay teenage boy who has been disfellowshipped from his Jehovah's Witness community and family and run away to London. We follow him through this time as he learns to live outside of this religion and how this upbringing of living by the bible may have effected how he sees himself within his sexuality.
There are so many things to reflect on from this book, it covers so many aspects of racism from a gay, Black man's point of view, and what it is to be a Black man in this country and the racism that is dealt with on a daily basis, from complete strangers and then more surprisingly sometimes within their own family.
Ive not read many books by Black male authors as I tend to go for female authors but in this I am limiting my perspective on the world so I am definitely going to be more open in which authors I look for.
I would definitely recommend reading this book.
April 28, 2020
This novel is stunning - wise, tender, piercing, generous, bruising. One of those books that feels instantly canonical. Also, the descriptions of music are just sublime.
I really admire the way Rainbow Milk explores the mechanics of desire, I think so often literary novels describe sex/desire in quite a pinched, detached way, like it’s something that just happens to their characters, but this novel revels in those moments.
I really admire the way Rainbow Milk explores the mechanics of desire, I think so often literary novels describe sex/desire in quite a pinched, detached way, like it’s something that just happens to their characters, but this novel revels in those moments.
June 6, 2021
Well this was a major disappointment.
The premise for the book is amazing, and even more so considering it's semi-autobiographical, but the writing style completely let this down.
The first chapter with Norman completely baffled me as it felt like a separate entity hanging out there on its own with no real connection to any of the subsequent story (until the end obviously), and the use of Patois was really distracting. I find any book which writes excessively with colloquial "speech" really frustrating as I think it takes away from the story immensely (in my head I'm trying to pronounce everything in that accent or language so I lose the thread of the story).
Then the rest of the story dealing with Jesse just felt overplayed, hammed up even, to create shock factor. The constant referencing to the contemporary music of that time was just strange "ooh listen isn't that the Sugababes playing, yeah but the extended so and so remix, yeah and isn't the album cover this...... etc"!! Weird.
The story didn't flow well and the characters felt more like caricatures (the sweaty smelly "daddy", the well hung stud, the married "fuck in a bathroom stall" guy).
This just didn't keep my interest at all. I skim read large swathes of text to get to any kind of "meaning" at the end and found nothing of interest.
A big nope for me.
The premise for the book is amazing, and even more so considering it's semi-autobiographical, but the writing style completely let this down.
The first chapter with Norman completely baffled me as it felt like a separate entity hanging out there on its own with no real connection to any of the subsequent story (until the end obviously), and the use of Patois was really distracting. I find any book which writes excessively with colloquial "speech" really frustrating as I think it takes away from the story immensely (in my head I'm trying to pronounce everything in that accent or language so I lose the thread of the story).
Then the rest of the story dealing with Jesse just felt overplayed, hammed up even, to create shock factor. The constant referencing to the contemporary music of that time was just strange "ooh listen isn't that the Sugababes playing, yeah but the extended so and so remix, yeah and isn't the album cover this...... etc"!! Weird.
The story didn't flow well and the characters felt more like caricatures (the sweaty smelly "daddy", the well hung stud, the married "fuck in a bathroom stall" guy).
This just didn't keep my interest at all. I skim read large swathes of text to get to any kind of "meaning" at the end and found nothing of interest.
A big nope for me.
April 28, 2020
What a debut wow. I went in purposely not knowing anything about the book, I was drawn by the description on NetGalley but apart from that I went in without expectations.
I was blown away by the characters, the depth of them, the storytelling is excellent. Paul does not shy away from detail, we're right there with Jesse - be it door to door or facing his lover intimately.
Jesse's story is soundtracked and if you take a moment to listen to the songs to set the scene it adds that extra level.
Paul Mendez has done a fantastic job with Rainbow Milk - I cannot wait to read what he does next.
I was blown away by the characters, the depth of them, the storytelling is excellent. Paul does not shy away from detail, we're right there with Jesse - be it door to door or facing his lover intimately.
Jesse's story is soundtracked and if you take a moment to listen to the songs to set the scene it adds that extra level.
Paul Mendez has done a fantastic job with Rainbow Milk - I cannot wait to read what he does next.
October 19, 2024
Initially, I had an issue getting into the book as the initial chapters were written in the characters' dialect, so potentially, this might have been better if reading via audible. Once I got to Jesse's part, the reading itself became easier, although not necessarily easier in terms of the content. Jessie is a young black man brought up as a Jehovah witness. He is disowned due to being gay and an incident with another member of his church. He finds himself outcast from his church and family moving to London, being an artist and making a living by being a gay prostitute. The sex scenes are graphic. SPOILER I thought the relationship between him and Owen was beautifully developed and loved how they came back to each other. It's a challenging read, but ultimately, it makes you think about the sex industry and issues relating to acceptance, race, racism and religious bigotry. It's a thought-provoking and intensive interesting read
July 31, 2024
This book was well written, I just had trouble following it and it felt disjointed at times. The Patois inflection it was written in for the first pages was easy enough to follow along to and I felt that it made the opening very authentic. I wanted this book to perhaps move me a little more than it did. I am glad to own a copy and hopefully look back on it with a little more patience at a later date. The cover art is absolutely gorgeous!
January 2, 2021
This review contains minor spoilers*
I think I need to take some time to process it before I can sum up my thoughts entirely, but here’s a quick review:
I did enjoy this book overall— but certain areas felt significantly stronger to me. I absolutely adored Norman’s story at the beginning and it made me have extremely high hopes for the rest of the book, but frankly the fact that we don’t really revisit Norman’s life was such a shame for me. It was my favourite part of the book, and the part that felt the most emotionally evocative. I also thoroughly enjoyed Jesse’s beginning story — I’ve never read a book about Jehovah’s witnesses before. But I felt his relationship with his mom should have been explored in more detail, and I would have loved more backstory of his mom. What happened with her and Jesse’s dad, for example? I also felt Jesse’s relationship with Graham and Brother Woodall also left a lot of room for questions.
Finally, the final section of the book (2014-2016) was good however it felt simultaneously a bit rushed. Jesse learns about his true dad which I thought was beautiful, but the intersection of that with his and Owen’s trip to Owen’s editor’s house felt out of place to me. I loved getting to see Jesse and Owen reunite and see them live their day to day life.
In short, the book was beautifully written and extremely original. It was so candidly written but strangely detached from the events and characters I wanted to know the most about. I finished the book with a lot of questions. I’m sure it was the author’s intention to leave the questions unanswered, and I can see the merit in doing so, but as a reader it impacted my overall enjoyment of the book. I enjoyed Mendez’s writing style however and I look forward to reading more from him in the future.
I think I need to take some time to process it before I can sum up my thoughts entirely, but here’s a quick review:
I did enjoy this book overall— but certain areas felt significantly stronger to me. I absolutely adored Norman’s story at the beginning and it made me have extremely high hopes for the rest of the book, but frankly the fact that we don’t really revisit Norman’s life was such a shame for me. It was my favourite part of the book, and the part that felt the most emotionally evocative. I also thoroughly enjoyed Jesse’s beginning story — I’ve never read a book about Jehovah’s witnesses before. But I felt his relationship with his mom should have been explored in more detail, and I would have loved more backstory of his mom. What happened with her and Jesse’s dad, for example? I also felt Jesse’s relationship with Graham and Brother Woodall also left a lot of room for questions.
Finally, the final section of the book (2014-2016) was good however it felt simultaneously a bit rushed. Jesse learns about his true dad which I thought was beautiful, but the intersection of that with his and Owen’s trip to Owen’s editor’s house felt out of place to me. I loved getting to see Jesse and Owen reunite and see them live their day to day life.
In short, the book was beautifully written and extremely original. It was so candidly written but strangely detached from the events and characters I wanted to know the most about. I finished the book with a lot of questions. I’m sure it was the author’s intention to leave the questions unanswered, and I can see the merit in doing so, but as a reader it impacted my overall enjoyment of the book. I enjoyed Mendez’s writing style however and I look forward to reading more from him in the future.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 11, 2020
This year there seems to be just an incredible collection of debut authors premiering coming of age stories both real and imagined. With ‘Rainbow Milk’ Paul Mendez has written one of the best. Jesse McCarthy (and no, not the singer) is a nineteen year Jamaican living in the Black Country of the UK with his mother and white step father. “His mother had married a white man, but how could a white man raise a black boy to be anything other than white, and to consider his blackness as a disability to endure?”
🔷
On track to become a Jehovah’s Witness despite wrestling with his insistent sexuality as well as his race, a series of events soon lands him in London becoming a sex worker to survive. To describe this makes it sounds like a bleak, ‘A Little Life’ esque tragedy, and yet that’s not what Mendez has in store. This is a journey about identity and survival, populated with a series of wonderful characters, friends, coworkers, tricks and lovers. It’s unflinching in its sexuality, heartfelt in its passions, timely in its discussions about race, and spans over fourteen years in his life, bookending in a moving final puzzle piece. An absolute favorite of mine this year and an author to watch. As of right now it’s only available in the UK but hopefully an American publisher picks this up.
⠀
February 22, 2022
Romanzo temerario, ma inconstante.
Ha pagine molto riuscite, per cui ci si strabilia ad avere per le mani un esordio (anche se tardivo, anche se nella vita dell'autore gravita la penna queer di fama Alan Hollinghurst), ma sul finire si smoscia - in tutti i sensi in cui questa parola può essere utilizzata - e perde sia nell'affondo che nella sostanza. A tratti ti morde con tale ferocia che sembra volerti sbranare, poi uggiola via come un cagnolino percosso malamente.
Parte con una sessantina di pagine oscure, scritte in patois, ambientante sul finire degli anni Cinquanta, con il giamaicano Norman Alonso che approda nel Regno Unito in cerca di una vita migliore. Poi si sposta sul vero protagonista: all'inizio del nuovo millennio, Jesse McCarthy, giovane nero e gay, è in fuga dalla comunità di Testimoni di Geova in cui è cresciuto dopo che il suo essere queer comincia a palesarsi. Il romanzo si dovrebbe infine chiudere con questa rivelazione sconvolgente capace di legare le due porzioni disgiunte, crearvi parallelismi e similitudini, sottolineare la persistenza soffocante del razzismo, dare nuova forza, nutrimento e direzione alla creatività di Jesse. Dovrebbe, sì, ma ci riesce solo sul piano teorico e non in quello pratico: una trentina di pagine frettolose, piene di non detti e con troppe zone lasciate sfocate.
Che Mendez sia uno scrittore con le idee chiare, è indubbio: la scelta di questo inglese giamaicano in apertura (dal lettore italiano giudicabile solo fino ad un certo punto, essendoci il filtro - credo molto curato - della traduzione di Clara Nubile), le scene di sesso rese senza alcun filtro e con un vocabolario esplicito e pornografico, il sottofondo musicale che intesse quasi un controcanto all'intera narrazione. Mi ha quindi stranito trovare un calo così brusco nello stile, verso la chiusura: scene deboli e frettolose, pagine di titoli musicali buttati lì più per pavoneggiarsi che non per utilità narrativa, dialoghi aberranti da prime prove di scrittura, persino uno strano senso di autocompiacimento improvviso che fatico a collocare con precisione.
Per mio gusto personale, un po' ho fatto fatica con questa lettura. Mi ha coinvolto poco, a tratti persino annoiato e più volte ho posato il libro senza alcun interesse a proseguire.
Credo che in parte ciò vada imputato alle scene di sesso esplicito, che istintivamente mi hanno portato a trattare il volume nello stesso modo in cui mi relaziono con il porno: nel momento in cui si presenta un bisogno fisiologico, che può essere piacevole ma nella maggior parte delle volte per me è solo un'incombenza, esso mi dà accesso ad una soluzione rapida ed emotivamente distaccata. Espletato il contrattempo (sì, mi rendo conto che per la maggior parte dell'umanità non è così, ma questo è il mio caso specifico), chiusa la finestra del browser, tutto sparisce - i corpi altrui dimenticati, i versi degli amplessi ricollocati nei server posizionati chissà dove nel globo terracqueo.
Io che capisco poco i libri-pugnetta (quelli - solitamente rosa - che vogliono eccitarti come scopo principale), io che nella vita i porno, come ho detto, me li cerco solo quando devo, 'sto romanzo l'ho vissuto così:
"Cazzo grosso bla bla bla con il buco del culo bla bla bla", va beh, un'altra scopata. Ma prima non avevo visto su YouTube che quel canale aveva pubblicato una nuova videoricetta? Spetta che vado a controllare.
E tanti saluti a "Latte arcobaleno", dimenticato sul comodino.
Insomma, un romanzo interessante, che tratta in modo riuscito sia il senso di superiorità dei bianchi che quello di inferiorità dei neri - un aspetto molto sottile del razzismo -, ma con qualche inciampo soprattutto in fase conclusiva.
Spiace solo non essere il suo "lettore giusto".
Ha pagine molto riuscite, per cui ci si strabilia ad avere per le mani un esordio (anche se tardivo, anche se nella vita dell'autore gravita la penna queer di fama Alan Hollinghurst), ma sul finire si smoscia - in tutti i sensi in cui questa parola può essere utilizzata - e perde sia nell'affondo che nella sostanza. A tratti ti morde con tale ferocia che sembra volerti sbranare, poi uggiola via come un cagnolino percosso malamente.
Parte con una sessantina di pagine oscure, scritte in patois, ambientante sul finire degli anni Cinquanta, con il giamaicano Norman Alonso che approda nel Regno Unito in cerca di una vita migliore. Poi si sposta sul vero protagonista: all'inizio del nuovo millennio, Jesse McCarthy, giovane nero e gay, è in fuga dalla comunità di Testimoni di Geova in cui è cresciuto dopo che il suo essere queer comincia a palesarsi. Il romanzo si dovrebbe infine chiudere con questa rivelazione sconvolgente capace di legare le due porzioni disgiunte, crearvi parallelismi e similitudini, sottolineare la persistenza soffocante del razzismo, dare nuova forza, nutrimento e direzione alla creatività di Jesse. Dovrebbe, sì, ma ci riesce solo sul piano teorico e non in quello pratico: una trentina di pagine frettolose, piene di non detti e con troppe zone lasciate sfocate.
Che Mendez sia uno scrittore con le idee chiare, è indubbio: la scelta di questo inglese giamaicano in apertura (dal lettore italiano giudicabile solo fino ad un certo punto, essendoci il filtro - credo molto curato - della traduzione di Clara Nubile), le scene di sesso rese senza alcun filtro e con un vocabolario esplicito e pornografico, il sottofondo musicale che intesse quasi un controcanto all'intera narrazione. Mi ha quindi stranito trovare un calo così brusco nello stile, verso la chiusura: scene deboli e frettolose, pagine di titoli musicali buttati lì più per pavoneggiarsi che non per utilità narrativa, dialoghi aberranti da prime prove di scrittura, persino uno strano senso di autocompiacimento improvviso che fatico a collocare con precisione.
Per mio gusto personale, un po' ho fatto fatica con questa lettura. Mi ha coinvolto poco, a tratti persino annoiato e più volte ho posato il libro senza alcun interesse a proseguire.
Credo che in parte ciò vada imputato alle scene di sesso esplicito, che istintivamente mi hanno portato a trattare il volume nello stesso modo in cui mi relaziono con il porno: nel momento in cui si presenta un bisogno fisiologico, che può essere piacevole ma nella maggior parte delle volte per me è solo un'incombenza, esso mi dà accesso ad una soluzione rapida ed emotivamente distaccata. Espletato il contrattempo (sì, mi rendo conto che per la maggior parte dell'umanità non è così, ma questo è il mio caso specifico), chiusa la finestra del browser, tutto sparisce - i corpi altrui dimenticati, i versi degli amplessi ricollocati nei server posizionati chissà dove nel globo terracqueo.
Io che capisco poco i libri-pugnetta (quelli - solitamente rosa - che vogliono eccitarti come scopo principale), io che nella vita i porno, come ho detto, me li cerco solo quando devo, 'sto romanzo l'ho vissuto così:
"Cazzo grosso bla bla bla con il buco del culo bla bla bla", va beh, un'altra scopata. Ma prima non avevo visto su YouTube che quel canale aveva pubblicato una nuova videoricetta? Spetta che vado a controllare.
E tanti saluti a "Latte arcobaleno", dimenticato sul comodino.
Insomma, un romanzo interessante, che tratta in modo riuscito sia il senso di superiorità dei bianchi che quello di inferiorità dei neri - un aspetto molto sottile del razzismo -, ma con qualche inciampo soprattutto in fase conclusiva.
Spiace solo non essere il suo "lettore giusto".
March 31, 2023
Hot damn this was so powerful and hard-hitting.
This is a thought-provoking debut novel that explores themes of identity, race, sexuality, and religion.
Beginning in the 80s, the story revolves around Jesse McCarthy, a young black man who leaves his Jehovah's Witness upbringing in the West Midlands and moves to London in search of a new life.
Jesse's experiences are raw and emotive, capturing the challenges of trying to find his place in the world.
Jesse's story is one of self-discovery as he grapples with his sexuality and tries to reconcile it with his faith and cultural background.
Read this for a buddy read and I am so glad it was chosen for me.
This is a thought-provoking debut novel that explores themes of identity, race, sexuality, and religion.
Beginning in the 80s, the story revolves around Jesse McCarthy, a young black man who leaves his Jehovah's Witness upbringing in the West Midlands and moves to London in search of a new life.
Jesse's experiences are raw and emotive, capturing the challenges of trying to find his place in the world.
Jesse's story is one of self-discovery as he grapples with his sexuality and tries to reconcile it with his faith and cultural background.
Read this for a buddy read and I am so glad it was chosen for me.
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