If Paul Laurence Dunbar is the essential great grandfather of hip hop literature with his novel The Sport of the Gods, then Chester Himes and his gritty street and detective fiction is the Grandfather. His novels are often categorized as crime or detective fiction but a closer look reveals a very close bloodline to the very fiction many of us are rolling our eyes and sucking our teeth about today.
If we look at Himes’ body of work it is clear that he had an affinity for the street. He understood the people as more than just hoodlums and criminals and undesirables, primarily because for a time he was one of them. They were real to him. They had voices and stories and it was obvious he felt the desire to tell those stories. Most people familiar with Himes know that he went to the Ohio State Penitentiary in Mansfield, Ohio for robber and, in fact, began his writing career there. Prior to his turn in prison, he was known as Little Katzi (after the Katzenjammer kids comic strip) and could often be found in gambling joints and whorehouses throughout the Cleveland area.
Himes’ biography reads like well written street lit. And his fiction is no different. Drawing from his personal experiences in Cleveland and New York, Himes crafts a lifetime of stories about characters who are the victims of racism and capitalism and how those concepts shaped their opportunities.
He was highly intelligent. According to his autobiography, The Quality of Hurt, he was informed after his entrance exams to Ohio State University that he had the fourth highest IQ of freshmen entering that fall. He stayed there two quarters but was so distraught at the overt racism both on and off campus that he dreaded the idea of going back. Drawn by the street life since a crippling accident left his family in a shambles and him unable to work in order to collect his disability, he thought it would be fun to take a group of coeds to a Columbus whorehouse he’d discovered. When word got back to the Dean, his already failing grades and poor attitude made the decision to dismiss him easy.
From there his descent into the dark world of the gambler and overall thug is rather quick. To avoid his bickering parents he takes to the streets and is quickly “adopted” by the local gangsters. They give him responsibilities around their clubs and he takes to the life rather nicely. The violence and immediacy of the streets suits his quick temper and need to respond to the racism both toward and among African Americans he sees daily.
His gangster journey culminates with a seven year stint at the Ohio State Penitentiary in Mansfield, Ohio. He is arrested in Chicago as he tried to fence jewelry stolen from a house in Cleveland. When the Chicago police can’t pin a local robbery on him they handcuff him, hang him upside down and beat him until he confesses to the crime he did commit. In prison he finds that he is unique among his colleagues in that he can read and write and here he begins to tell stories.
Himes’ novels take us through the streets of Harlem, through bus stations, whore houses, and down back alleys and through respectable neighborhoods to show the irony and contradictions of black life in America. For his trouble Himes received little to no acclaim in the United States. He had to move to Paris for that. His most famous characters, Gravedigger Jones and Coffin Ed Johnson, two black Harlem detectives, were vastly complex characters often overlooked because of their inclusion in a pulp style novel.
Like Dunbar, Himes understood his characters’ disenfranchisment and the elements of society which caused it. Dunbar believed that the Hamilton’s were at the mercy of the gods, that elements of their fate were out of their control. Himes portrayed the same lack of control in his characters, only what Dunbar called the gods, Himes called American society.
From Himes comes many other writers like Donald Goines and Robert “Iceberg Slim” Beck, to name the most popular. The W.W. Norton company has published what they call “old school” books/authors which include many more street novels than a lot people probably even knew existed.
The point of this entry is to reiterate the fact that the literature is not new. It’s not even unique. It has a history because the people who write it have a history in this country. The only real claim that this genre can make for itself in terms of groundbreaking achievement is its current public popularity. Himes and his colleagues never got the attention they felt they deserved for telling the stories of people whose voices generally go unheeded.
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label literature. Show all posts
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
A Literary Genealogy (part 1)
Street literature is not new, so why are people acting like this stuff just appeared out of nowhere for the sole purpose of derailing the black community?
It is not hard to understand, why, as a community we are concerned about the proliferation of the street novel on the bookstore shelves and in the book bags of our children. But there is a dimension of this literature that begs for discussion in the academic arena.
As a community we are concerned with the fact that the African American readership is connecting to these novels in a way that they don’t connect to the writings of the academy. Cora Daniels, in her book GhettoNation: dispatches from America’s culture war, registers her disgust at the momentum these novels have gained in the last ten years. “When did our standards get so low that we are now satisfied with simply reading? It s like being satisfied that our children are eating vegetables because they pour ketchup on their fries” (84). Her concern, and rightly so, is that these novels will become the reading standard for young black readers, that rather than a bridge to other, more interesting and thought provoking literature , that the books will become an end unto themselves. That would be unfortunate. What she missed, however, was the opportunity the literate community has to harness the energy and details of this writing and turn it into something useful, to open a dialogue between generations about life in general. This literature has a historical context and knowing that context can make this overtly sexual and violent literature relevant.
The street novels of today are the same thing they’ve always been, merely an undiluted portrayal of the life of the disenfranchised. That being the case, slave narratives can be considered street literature. But let’s start with something simpler, easier to wrap the mind around. In 1902 Paul Laurence Dunbar published a novel called "The Sport of the Gods". Dunbar is most noted for his poetry and not a lot of people are aware that he ever even published any novels but it’s there. And it’s as close to the street literature of today as you’re probably going to get in 1902. And it gets quite close.
The story follows the Hamiltons from their position as a well to do black family in the south to a struggling shell of their former selves in the north.
If the writers of the slave narratives are the literary ancestors of the writers of urban street fiction, then Berry and Fannie Hamilton are the ancestors of the fictional characters these authors now create. Berry is unjustly accused of stealing money from his employers, the Oakleys, and goes to jail for a crime he did not commit but for which he is powerless to defend himself. The real culprit, Mr. Oakley’s younger brother, has actually lost the money and is ashamed to admit it. When the senior Oakley discovers the truth some years later, he chooses to ignore it and allow Berry to waste away in prison rather than soil his brother’s good name and that of their family. Neither Berry’s good name or the reputation of his family is of any consequence to this man.
The Hamiltons, who consider themselves above most of the black people in their small southern town are devastated by the accusation and subsequent conviction. Berry’s conviction costs the family its position among quality blacks and the blacks they rejected at one time are unforgiving. The Hamilton’s are no longer welcome in their hometown. They are the object of ridicule by the blacks and outright scorn by the whites.
Unable to find suitable employment Fannie, Berry’s wife, packs up her family and moves them north to Harlem and is sorry almost from the moment she steps off the train. Once in Harlem the family undergoes a terrible transformation. The son takes immediately to the seamier side of life, loving the ostentatious style of and becoming fascinated with the underground culture of gambling and dance halls and the men and women who inhabit them.
The family operates constantly under the fear of being “discovered”. The black community, being small and insular, has a powerful grapevine and once it is understood who they are their position in polite society is jeopardized. When a former rival, Minty Brown, comes to town she blabs the sordid story, out of spite, to everyone she thinks might know the Hamiltons. Their worst fears are realized and they lose their home and their employment. Out of work and with no place to live the Hamilton’s have some tough choices to make. Kitty Hamilton, the beautiful and obedient daughter, is drawn into the chorus line of a stage show by her brother’s girlfriend. It is the only employment available to someone of her family’s reputation. Fannie must marry Mr. Gibson who we discover is physically abusive. Joe, the son, falls deeper into the underground life of which he has become so fond.
When Minty Brown brings her story into the bar where Joe spends most of his time the crowd of gamblers and show girls rallies around him and literally chase Minty Brown from the place when she attempts to humiliate him there. This crowd, unlike the polite society from which they have been ousted, has accepted Joe as one of their own and behaves accordingly against any threat to him. Here, they show more moral fortitude than any of the polite society which has turned its back on an unjustly accused man and his family.
When Berry Hamilton’s injustice is revealed and he is released from prison he finds that his wife is married to another man, his daughter has taken to the stage and his son is in jail for murder. Feeling he has nothing left to lose, even he plans to commit murder by killing his wife’s new husband. Dunbar is suggesting through this series of events that even a God-fearing, well meaning family can be corrupted if the stars align correctly and that once that corruption has taken place it is difficult if not impossible to go back, not because the pull of the life is so great but because polite society is so unforgiving.
We see the same themes play out in the novels of Chester Himes, Iceberg Slim and Donald Goines. These authors all existed in the literary equivalent of the shadows, both personally and professionally. Of the three, only Himes receives any real critical attention, and rarely for his crime fiction. Of all the stories Chester Himes wrote the only two which are regularly anthologized are “Head Waiter” a story about the perceptions of blacks and power within the larger society as well as within our own professional experiences, and “To What Red Hell” which comments on the humanity of the prison inmate. Neither of those stories exemplify of the type of story Himes wrote regularly.
The same can be said for both Donald Goines and Robert “Iceberg Slim” Beck, only to a lesser degree. Neither of them is ever anthologized in an academic literary anthology. Still, their stories are remarkably similar to Dunbar’s Hamiltons. None of the characters are responsible for their particular situation, though not so indirectly as the Hamiltons. What makes the characters in street fiction so difficult to absorb is that unlike the Hamiltons they often embrace the life they are suppose to be trying to avoid. The Hamiltons were not permitted a life in “legitimate” society and were unjustly denied it. Circumstances beyond their control may be why the contemporary street lit characters have to start in their shadowy position, but pure desire is presumably what keeps them there.
Still, if we can imagine the offspring of Joe and Kitty, can they be far from the literary characters of contemporary street fiction? Their opportunities to succeed hampered by their parents choices and experiences. Joe and Kitty did not choose the lives they were relegated to; however, once there the life made them welcome and comfortable, provided for them the things they could not achieve through inaccessible legitimate means.
It is not hard to understand, why, as a community we are concerned about the proliferation of the street novel on the bookstore shelves and in the book bags of our children. But there is a dimension of this literature that begs for discussion in the academic arena.
As a community we are concerned with the fact that the African American readership is connecting to these novels in a way that they don’t connect to the writings of the academy. Cora Daniels, in her book GhettoNation: dispatches from America’s culture war, registers her disgust at the momentum these novels have gained in the last ten years. “When did our standards get so low that we are now satisfied with simply reading? It s like being satisfied that our children are eating vegetables because they pour ketchup on their fries” (84). Her concern, and rightly so, is that these novels will become the reading standard for young black readers, that rather than a bridge to other, more interesting and thought provoking literature , that the books will become an end unto themselves. That would be unfortunate. What she missed, however, was the opportunity the literate community has to harness the energy and details of this writing and turn it into something useful, to open a dialogue between generations about life in general. This literature has a historical context and knowing that context can make this overtly sexual and violent literature relevant.
The street novels of today are the same thing they’ve always been, merely an undiluted portrayal of the life of the disenfranchised. That being the case, slave narratives can be considered street literature. But let’s start with something simpler, easier to wrap the mind around. In 1902 Paul Laurence Dunbar published a novel called "The Sport of the Gods". Dunbar is most noted for his poetry and not a lot of people are aware that he ever even published any novels but it’s there. And it’s as close to the street literature of today as you’re probably going to get in 1902. And it gets quite close.
The story follows the Hamiltons from their position as a well to do black family in the south to a struggling shell of their former selves in the north.
If the writers of the slave narratives are the literary ancestors of the writers of urban street fiction, then Berry and Fannie Hamilton are the ancestors of the fictional characters these authors now create. Berry is unjustly accused of stealing money from his employers, the Oakleys, and goes to jail for a crime he did not commit but for which he is powerless to defend himself. The real culprit, Mr. Oakley’s younger brother, has actually lost the money and is ashamed to admit it. When the senior Oakley discovers the truth some years later, he chooses to ignore it and allow Berry to waste away in prison rather than soil his brother’s good name and that of their family. Neither Berry’s good name or the reputation of his family is of any consequence to this man.
The Hamiltons, who consider themselves above most of the black people in their small southern town are devastated by the accusation and subsequent conviction. Berry’s conviction costs the family its position among quality blacks and the blacks they rejected at one time are unforgiving. The Hamilton’s are no longer welcome in their hometown. They are the object of ridicule by the blacks and outright scorn by the whites.
Unable to find suitable employment Fannie, Berry’s wife, packs up her family and moves them north to Harlem and is sorry almost from the moment she steps off the train. Once in Harlem the family undergoes a terrible transformation. The son takes immediately to the seamier side of life, loving the ostentatious style of and becoming fascinated with the underground culture of gambling and dance halls and the men and women who inhabit them.
The family operates constantly under the fear of being “discovered”. The black community, being small and insular, has a powerful grapevine and once it is understood who they are their position in polite society is jeopardized. When a former rival, Minty Brown, comes to town she blabs the sordid story, out of spite, to everyone she thinks might know the Hamiltons. Their worst fears are realized and they lose their home and their employment. Out of work and with no place to live the Hamilton’s have some tough choices to make. Kitty Hamilton, the beautiful and obedient daughter, is drawn into the chorus line of a stage show by her brother’s girlfriend. It is the only employment available to someone of her family’s reputation. Fannie must marry Mr. Gibson who we discover is physically abusive. Joe, the son, falls deeper into the underground life of which he has become so fond.
When Minty Brown brings her story into the bar where Joe spends most of his time the crowd of gamblers and show girls rallies around him and literally chase Minty Brown from the place when she attempts to humiliate him there. This crowd, unlike the polite society from which they have been ousted, has accepted Joe as one of their own and behaves accordingly against any threat to him. Here, they show more moral fortitude than any of the polite society which has turned its back on an unjustly accused man and his family.
When Berry Hamilton’s injustice is revealed and he is released from prison he finds that his wife is married to another man, his daughter has taken to the stage and his son is in jail for murder. Feeling he has nothing left to lose, even he plans to commit murder by killing his wife’s new husband. Dunbar is suggesting through this series of events that even a God-fearing, well meaning family can be corrupted if the stars align correctly and that once that corruption has taken place it is difficult if not impossible to go back, not because the pull of the life is so great but because polite society is so unforgiving.
We see the same themes play out in the novels of Chester Himes, Iceberg Slim and Donald Goines. These authors all existed in the literary equivalent of the shadows, both personally and professionally. Of the three, only Himes receives any real critical attention, and rarely for his crime fiction. Of all the stories Chester Himes wrote the only two which are regularly anthologized are “Head Waiter” a story about the perceptions of blacks and power within the larger society as well as within our own professional experiences, and “To What Red Hell” which comments on the humanity of the prison inmate. Neither of those stories exemplify of the type of story Himes wrote regularly.
The same can be said for both Donald Goines and Robert “Iceberg Slim” Beck, only to a lesser degree. Neither of them is ever anthologized in an academic literary anthology. Still, their stories are remarkably similar to Dunbar’s Hamiltons. None of the characters are responsible for their particular situation, though not so indirectly as the Hamiltons. What makes the characters in street fiction so difficult to absorb is that unlike the Hamiltons they often embrace the life they are suppose to be trying to avoid. The Hamiltons were not permitted a life in “legitimate” society and were unjustly denied it. Circumstances beyond their control may be why the contemporary street lit characters have to start in their shadowy position, but pure desire is presumably what keeps them there.
Still, if we can imagine the offspring of Joe and Kitty, can they be far from the literary characters of contemporary street fiction? Their opportunities to succeed hampered by their parents choices and experiences. Joe and Kitty did not choose the lives they were relegated to; however, once there the life made them welcome and comfortable, provided for them the things they could not achieve through inaccessible legitimate means.
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