First published in 1959, The Cool World is the most famous of Warren Miller's work (all of which is relatively unknown) about a youth gang called the "Crocadiles" in 1950's Harlem, New York City. Narrated in the first person by the protagonist and Crocadile member Duke, The Cool World recounts the story of Duke and his gang's adventures and travails as they deal with street life in the ghetto and a rival gang called the Wolves. Drug dealing, fights, prostitution, guns, and gambling are rampant throughout this engaging, slim novel that rarely has a dull moment. Written entirely in African-American street vernacular of the time, Miller—a caucasian academic—accomplished a great, and mostly unnoticed, linguistic and narrative feat with this novel.
Don't let that page count fool ya: this is one dense little bastard. Squat blocks of text, sort of like Danny DeVito as a paragraph/page. There's a whole hell of a lot of good here, even great, but the old means/end conflict remains unresolved for me. CAN a white writer presuppose the authority to write from the perspective of his adolescent Black counterpart, and to do so in idiomatic dialect that is anything but, um, subtle? Yes, of course he or she can: it is fiction, and the motivation for doing so is, per my rubric, legitimized by Miller's obvious empathic portraiture. This would seemingly resolve my ethical dilemma, but it fails my larger inclination that ill means can never produce truly virtuous ends. That I'm still kicking that piece of chalk across the yard indicates there is no easy answer, and certainly no bows cinched upon a tiny box under the ethical tree. This may be entirely the point...
Which leads to a better rephrasing on my part: if a white novelist CAN presuppose the authority to write from the perspective of his adolescent Black counterpart, and does so in phonetically sounded out text intended as accurate refection of the streets...does that mean that he SHOULD?
The Cool World first came into my life probably in the late 1970s -- not as it directly relates to this novel, per se, but as a photo in a movie book referencing the 1963 film-adapted version made by underground/indie filmmaker Shirley Clarke. Intrigued, I placed it on my "to-see films" list, and thus began an odyssey of three decades to track down a viewing copy of this elusive (though oft-mentioned in film books) work. Diligent searches of the obscure corners of the 'Net finally yielded a downloadable copy about four years ago, and fortunately the film was as gritty and guerilla as I'd hoped it would be.
This original 1959 novel by Warren Miller was not on my radar until a co-worker and GR buddy, Tim, happened upon it early last year and was enticed to read because of an encouraging cover blurb by no less than James Baldwin.
Considering how good the book is--and given that it was a fairly well-known New York novel in its day--it's remarkable that, to date, there are only three reviews of it on Goodreads, mine included and two by people on my friends' list: Tim and Iris. (Five years later, in 2016, as I re-read and slightly modify this review, I see that only two additional reviews have been added, so not much has changed).
Both Tim and Iris are spot-on in comparing the sensibility of the voice to J.D. Salinger/Holden Caufield in Catcher in the Rye, and I'm sure Iris is right in comparing it to the more contemporary Push by Sapphire, which I've not yet read.
I'd be a bit leery about accepting Baldwin's testimonial unreservedly ("One of the finest novels about Harlem that has ever come my way.") but the book knows New York, knows underclass life, and feels real the whole way. The book is written in a vernacular dialect which, though thick, I found not at all difficult to read. FYI, Miller was a white author writing in a black dialect/idiom/milieu which probably raises various socio-political/aesthetic questions which I'm not too keen on addressing. Miller being white and writing in a pseudo-black voice about part of the black experience does not really bother me. What would concern me is whether the book was well done or not, and I think it is.
The book is largely episodic and plotless; what plot there is will be familiar to anyone who's seen gangster movies or read about real-life gangstas. Duke Custis is a 14-year-old juvenile delinquent living in a New York housing project with his mom, grandma, a studious brother who just might escape from the slum, and whatever temporary father figure happens to be inhabiting his mom's bed that week. Duke is the second-in-command to Blood, the leader of the Royal Crocodiles, a gang whose main rival is a Puerto Rican group called the Wolves. Blood is showing signs of weakness, taking the road of the junkie, thus opening a power vacuum Duke is ready to fill.
Obtaining a real handgun becomes a mission that occupies Duke for the entire story -- he understands that with weaponry comes power -- and he exhibits as much industriousness as he can under his limited circumstances to reach his goals. The rumble becomes the central obsession of the gang, and Duke understands that war is needed for the sake of social cohesion (and to divert the members of the tribe from everyday injustice). Though he sometimes shows a healthy curiosity and questions things about his world, Duke (like most people in the social order) does not challenge his tribal precepts. Duke, like the populace at large, asks no questions once the authorities bang the war drums.
This little book was entertaining and flavorful and probably should be better known. There are dated elements that some will probably fixate on (hard to imagine a criminal finding difficulty in getting a handgun), but its timeless qualities are what made me enjoy The Cool World. I got a good sense of the streets of NYC in 1959 and found Duke an interesting protagonist, a kid who shows moments of goodness and dangerous recklessness simultaneously. His naivete feeds both his best and worst qualities.
The book ends on a positive note, which is not how I remember the film concluding. I'll have to go back and check. I'm probably rating this book higher than I ought, but what the hell. It goes onto my Evan's Alternative 100 listing of unfairly obscure or maligned books.
Drawn to its cover art and rave review blurbs on the cover, I struggled with "The Cool World" because it drifts just like its young narrator does; fans of "Catcher in the Rye" however would find a lot to love here. Our hero is Duke, a cocky 14 year old in Harlem, sidling up to gang violence, drugs, prostitution, guns, listlessness and ambition.
This book is so clear and true that its age (published in 1959) is hard to believe; Duke just seems like Precious's classmate, not an outdated relic. Like "Push" by Sapphire, the grimness of the story is made still more difficult by the vernacular in which it's written -- I found this slightly less hard to read than "Push."
Published just a few years after "On the Road", this novel of Harlem was a visit to a different world not part of standard white America. Warren Miller seems to do a good job of writing in dialect for Duke, the first person narrator. This very young man scrapes out an income from selling sticks of marijuana on the street, working for the Poinciana Co. run by West Indies Royal Baron. a sort of pick man doing the best he can to get by. His flirty secretary is the only white person in the novel that we see. Wikipedia has relatively little about Warren Miller. I'd like to know more about him. The novel received wide praise. The protagonist Duke runs with and becomes leader of a street gang. Duke dreams and at times even rhapsodizes, balancing his realistic descriptions of hard, brutal events. There are characters using education as a way to a different life. This is a good read with which to investigate portrayal of race in America in the late 1950's. It is also a portrait of the struggles of youth in any period.
Nejprf sem chtěl napsat tuhletu recensi jazykem Krokadýlů, kerej je dost cpecifickej, ale sem línej seroutka. Znáte to. Tohle dílo máme v maturitní četbě a přitom, jak koukám - přeloženo pouze do španělštiny a češtiny. Ani v USA to není bůhvíjaký bestseller. O to víc jsem potěšen kvalitou, která je zkrátka velmi kvalitní. Černošští chudí kluci chtějí zmlátit jiný černošský chudý kluky. My to teda vidíme z perspektivy Duka, což je takový apatický čtrnáctiletý hoch, který chce získat "stříkačku". A o tom to vlastně celý je. Klíčová slova: násilí, vandalství, maskulinita, prostituce, rasismus, vykořeněnost, ghetto. Tady se nepovidá o vrchních deseti tisících, ale dětech z ulice, co neví co s životem. A tak mají party, který nedělají zrovna ukázkový činy. Jazyk, šmarja! Geniální. Až bych se obával, že překonal originál. Totální hovorovost, slang, podivný dělení slov (Porto Rykánec), motání se v čase a v poslední řadě Duke vykreslí situaci, která by se vám, občanovi v demokratickém státu, zřejmě nikdy nemohla stát a dodá k tomu: "Znáte to." Ne, neznáme, ale číst o tom je přinejmenším parádní. Je ponuré, jak je člověk vržen do světa a v podstatě nemá téměř šanci nějaké volné vůle. Prostředí je neskutečně určující a třeba snivé pasáže Duka napovídají, že nemusí jít nutně o zlou osobu. Ale dítě ulice je dítě ulice. A zajímavé jsou i mezikulturní odlišnosti - Duke si ani rasismus neuvědomuje, nekritizuje ho. Běloch napsal hodně dobrej román o černoších. A Škvorecký ho bezvadně přeložil (plus opatřil poznámkami tehdejších reálií).
"Jenže nůž na chleba na to není dělanej." Povidá Kovboj Svatýmu. "To chce Rod říct. Von stačí von docela stačí vole. Jenomže zrovna tak stačí kus cihly. To neni stylový vole voddělat někoho nožem na chleba." "Nevypadá to pěkně." Povidá Rod. (s. 196 - 197)
Česky „Prezydent krokadýlů“, s nádherně barevnou obálkou, paperback (česky se to jmenovalo hezky – brožovaný výtisk), a pokud si pamatuji, doporučil mně ji Jaroslav Róna. Báječná knížka v naprosto skvělém tehdejším překladu Josefa Škvoreckého, byť - jako emigrant nesměl být uveden - skryt za jménem jiného skvělého překladatele té doby, Jana Zábrany. Slang je naprosto věrohodný, až člověka překvapí, že v New Yorku takhle nikdo nemluví.
"A seroutkové po mně vejraj celý podělaný ale přitom to vobdivujou znáte to a nejrači by šli taky do toho jenže zas sou rádi že nemusej. Dyž člověk v něčem neni dycky by v tom nejrači byl. Tomu se řiká laická přirozenost."
Duro pero prometedor. Me gusta la sencillez de la narración, y se nota que Duke, el protagonista, no es como los demás. Tiene momentos de reflexiones filosóficas, aunque "pasa" porque dice que es siempre demasiado complejo y un rollo. Aunque toda la lectura se me ha hecho dura, por la falta de oportunidades en algunos barrios, por ser de un color distinto al blanco, y que solo se plantee la violencia, se distingue la tolerancia y el compañerismo. El final me ha encantado. Estoy deseando de que llegue primavera también, para saber si el trabajo que ha hecho le ha salido bien.
New York v 50. letech a válka dvou dětských gangů. Příběh 14ti letého Duka Curtise vyrůstajícího v ghettu v Harlemu a jeho cestě za vyděláním si na koupení pistole. Vyprávění pomocí slangu z první osoby. Člověk si k němu v průběhu vytvoří vztah a chvíli trvá než si zapamatujete, že je to opravdu ještě dítě. Náročné a zábavné čtení zároveň.
Ein coming-of-age, das zu Unrecht in Deutschland kaum gekannt und gelesen wird.
Andererseits hat das Buch einen bitteren Beigeschmack, wenn man bedenkt, dass Warren Miller weiß ist. Ein weißer Autor, der über Gangs schwarzer Jungs schreibt und die Charaktere schlicht und einfach belässt.
Der Roman, der in Deutschland als Jugendbuch gelistet ist, wartet mit heftigen Themen auf: Gewalt, Drogensucht und -handel, Vergewaltigung, Prostitution und Mord. Das Werk ist teilweise ganz atmosphärisch geraten, wirkt aber hinsichtlich der Handlung immer wieder mal zusammenhanglos. Ein großes Manko war für mich die Hauptfigur, für die ich keine Sympathie entwickeln konnte. Bemerkenswert ist, dass Duke, die Hauptfigur, einen schwulen Freund hat und dessen Beziehung zu einem Mann fast schon wertungsfrei hinnimmt. Das hätte ich in einem Roman von 1959 so nicht erwartet.
Historia corta, ágil y sencilla que nos presenta a Duke, un chico de 14 años del barrio de Harlem, perteneciente a la banda de los Cocodrilos y que se busca la vida "trapicheando" con la venta de droga, con la intención de ahorrar para comprarse una pistola y poder así hacer cara a la pandilla enemiga, los Lobos. Un escenario de venganzas y constantes amenazas que mantienen al lector en tensión durante toda la historia. El libro acaba con un sabor de boca dulce y nos deja una lección de vida.
Výborný, syrový příběh životě v Harlemu z počátku 60 let. Vypravěčem je 14 letý kluk, člen gangu Krokadýlů který se postupně stává jeho "prezydentem". výborná sociální sonda do života chudých v getech neztrácí ani po více než 50 letech na aktuálnosti. vykořeněnost, beznaděj, frustrace. Krom toho bych rád upozornil na vynikající, ale opravdu vynikající a velice odvážný překlad Jana Zábrany. 10/10 jak za příběh, tak za překlad.
I picked this up randomly from the library and checked it out based on the quote from James Baldwin on the cover. I guess you could say it's kind of a Harlem Cather in the Rye. I really like how its broken up into episodes much like Day of the Locust. I was surprised to learn halfway through the book that Warren Miller was white. It totally changed my view of the whole book.