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Thursday, 30 April 2020

Some Books About… JOSEPH CONRAD


JOSEPH CONRAD  
3 December 1857 – 3 August 1924



 

 

 

Joseph Conrad, who was born Józef Teodor Konrad Nalecz Korzeniowski on 3 December 1857 in what had recently become the Ukrainian city of Berdyczów, is now considered to be one of the key figures of early literary Modernism, a novelist whose work became a profound influence on many of the writers –– André Gide (who was for a time his French translator), Virginia Woolf, William Faulkner and Ernest Hemingway to name just four –– who would themselves go on to become important novelists in the years preceding and immediately following World War One.  While Conrad is perhaps best remembered today as the author of the groundbreaking 1899 novella The Heart of Darkness, it was in his full scale novels Lord Jim (1900), Nostromo (1904), The Secret Agent (1907) and Under Western Eyes (1911) that he can be said to have genuinely pushed the boundaries of the form, creating ironic, multi-layered narratives which dragged the English novel out of its cosy Victorian rectitude into what would prove to be a bleak and frequently terrifying new century.  

 

That Conrad, a Pole by birth whose second language was French, achieved this by writing in his third language (or fourth as there is evidence to suggest that he was also fluent in German) was nothing short of miraculous, as was his apparently instinctual understanding of evil and heroism and the vital role that integrity and personal responsibility play in all human undertakings.  He is the subject of innumerable works of criticism and at least half a dozen major biographies, with the numbers of each growing by the year as critics, cultural as well as literary, continue to mine his work for clues to the various moral and political dilemmas the world still finds itself confronted by today.

 

 



Pelican/Penguin Books UK, 1971

 

 

Joseph Conrad: A Critical Biography (1960) by JOCELYN BAINES

 

Unlike most literary biographers, Jocelyn Baines was not an academic as such.  He was born in London in the same year that his one and only biographical subject died and worked for most of his professional life as an antiquarian bookseller, leaving that honourable profession for a brief stint as an editor at the English publishing firm of Longmans, Green.  Although he read law at Oxford University and obtained an English degree, his study of Conrad's life –– the first major English biography of the novelist to appear in almost forty years –– is anything but donnish.   

 

The book is divided into fourteen chapters, each of which is further subdivided into sections to facilitate the reading experience and ensure the presentation of facts never becomes so relentless that they can't be easily assimilated.  While this may seem a trivial observation, it is not.  Many literary biographies, particularly those which focus on towering figures like Conrad, can quickly become a drain on the reader's endurance, turning what should be a pleasurable and informative experience into a dull unedifying chore.  Baines presents the facts of Conrad's life –– his birth in a section of Poland which had recently been annexed by Russia, the exile of his father for reasons of political expediency and the deaths of both his parents while he was still a young boy, his struggle to go to sea against the wishes of his autocratic uncle first in France and eventually in England, his gaining of his first (and only) maritime command and subsequent desertion of the sea for what became the even more uncertain career of professional writer –– in a clear straightforward manner, providing enough in the way of supplementary detail to convincingly recreate what, even by action-packed nineteenth and early twentieth century standards, was an extraordinarily rich and fascinating life.  

 

Baines does this, in part, by including a generous selection of quotations drawn from the hundreds if not thousands of letters Conrad wrote throughout his life, including those composed in French to people like Marguerite Poradowska, the Polish-born Belgian novelist who was his maternal cousin by marriage and the woman, nine years his senior, whom he may have unsuccessfully proposed to before marrying Jessie George, eldest daughter of his London landlady, in March 1896.  (Unfortunately, the letters written in French are untranslated, an oversight which should have been corrected in the reprinted edition of the book published in 1993.)  By allowing Conrad to tell key parts of his own story in his own words, Baines provides the reader with unusually lucid insights into his subject's character, state of mind and literary preoccupations.  He also has a gift for analysing Conrad's novels without becoming mired in esoteric academic language, of which his comments about Under Western Eyes should serve as a typically concise example:

 

There is a very successful attempt to present what Razumov [the novel's protagonist] thought … indeed, the characters in Under Western Eyes are more subtly and convincingly developed than those in any other of Conrad's novels.  Razumov himself is the most considerable character that Conrad created; his thoughts, words, and actions reveal depths of personality which show that Conrad succeeded in identifying himself imaginatively with him. 


 

While Joseph Conrad: A Critical Biography is not the most erudite book ever published about this great and still much studied novelist, it remains one of the more accessible in terms of style and length.  It's also something practically never encountered in today's cut-throat and rapidly shrinking book market –– a reliable, uncondescending biography written for the non-specialist by a fellow (passionate and well-read) non-specialist that I would unhesitatingly recommend to anybody seeking to broaden their knowledge of Conrad's life as a means of acquiring a deeper understanding of his fiction. 

 

Joseph Conrad: A Critical Biography is no longer in print.  

 

 



Ecco Press, 1989

 

 

 

Joseph Conrad: A Personal Remembrance (1924) by FORD MADOX FORD

 

'He was small rather than large in height,' Ford Madox Ford states in the opening paragraph of the monograph he published about his friend and collaborator shortly after Conrad's death on 3 August 1924, '…very broad in the shoulder and long in the arm; dark in complexion with black hair and a clipped black beard.  He had the gestures of a Frenchman who shrugs his shoulders frequently.  When you had really secured his attention he would insert a monocle into his right eye and scrutinise your face from very near as a watchmaker looks into the works of a watchHe entered a room with his head held high, rather stiffly and with a haughty manner, moving his head once semicircularly.  In this one movement he had expressed to himself the room and its contents; his haughtiness was due to his determination to master that room, not to dominate its occupants, his chief passion being the realisation of aspects of himself.'  This is an astonishingly vivid description of Conrad the human being as opposed to Conrad the literary icon, entirely characteristic of Ford and what he set out to achieve in this short, affectionate, elegantly composed memoir. 

 

Ford was the perfect person to write such a book, having collaborated with Conrad on three novels –– The Inheritors (1901), Romance (1903) and The Nature of a Crime (written in 1906 but published, like this memoir, in 1924) –– after being introduced to him in 1898 by Conrad's friend and literary advisor Edward Garnett.  Theirs quickly became a mutually instructive friendship which naturally lent itself to collaboration and the perfecting of a literary technique that Conrad had dubbed 'progression d'effet' or, in English, progression of effect.  'In writing a novel,' Ford explains, 'we agreed that every word set on paper –– every word set on paper –– must carry the story forward and, that as the story progressed, the story must be carried forward faster and faster and with more and more intensity.'  This method of writing, which became a core principle of what would come to be known as literary impressionism (and the modern spy and detective novel), is now considered to be one of Conrad's most essential contributions to Western literature –– a contribution it may have been impossible for him to make had he not met and worked so closely with the man he originally knew as Ford Madox Hueffer.  (Ford changed his surname after World War One in an effort to re-invent himself following his military service in the trenches of France and the entirely understandable nervous breakdown he suffered as a result of that altogether horrific experience.)

 

Although their friendship was no longer as close by 1909 –– it became strained after they quarrelled about Conrad's contributions to The English Review, a new periodical Ford was at that time editing, and was further compromised by the affair the still-married Ford had recently begun with journalist Violet Hunt –– Ford's genuine affection for Conrad and his memories of the many hours they spent discussing the art and practise of writing at Pent Farm in rural Kent shines through on every page.  It closes with a moving addendum, composed in (again untranslated) French, of Ford's thoughts written immediately after learning of Conrad's death that originally appeared in the Journal Littéraire on 26 August 1924.

 

As generous and laudatory as it is, Ford's memoir was vehemently disliked by the widow of his friend and former collaborator.  Jessie Conrad –– who would go on to write several newspaper articles and two interesting if unreliable memoirs of her own about the husband whose genius she claimed not to have understood –– never warmed to Ford, whom she considered too bohemian in his outlook in addition to being a shameless exploiter of Conrad's overly generous nature.  She publicly criticized Ford after his memoir appeared, going so far as to describe his reminiscences as 'detestable' to one Fleet Street journalist.  

 

Personally, I think Mrs Conrad got it wrong.  For all his faults, of which he possessed as many as the next person, Ford could not count insincerity or the failure to pay his friends due homage among them.  A Personal Remembrance stands as an eloquent heartfelt tribute to a man he genuinely respected and admired and what they accomplished as novelists both individually and collectively. 

 

Joseph Conrad: A Personal Remembrance may still be obtainable from your local library, bookstore or preferred online provider.  

 

Joseph Conrad As I Knew Him (1927) and Joseph Conrad and His Circle (1935), both written by JESSIE CONRAD, are long out of print, as is Joseph Conrad: Times Remembered the better memoir by the writer's youngest son JOHN CONRAD published by the Cambridge University Press in 1981. 





Farrar Straus Giroux first US edition, 1979

 

 

Joseph Conrad: The Three Lives (1979) by FREDERICK R KARL

 

It is hard to believe that this was only the third Conrad biography published since the writer's death, following the previously mentioned work by Jocelyn Baines and Gérard Jean-Aubry's Joseph Conrad: Life and Letters (1927) and Vie de Conrad (1947, translated ten years later as The Sea-Dreamer: A Definitive Biography of Joseph Conrad).  What Baines lacked in detail and Jean-Aubry lacked in verisimilitude –– although he knew Conrad and translated much of his work into French, the Frenchman had a worrying tendency to extrapolate Conrad's fiction into his life and vice versa, making many of his claims and assumptions unreliable –– Frederick R Karl more than made up for in this massive tome, a book which remains one of the truly great literary biographies and a landmark of modern literary scholarship.

 

A critic of no small repute and a published novelist in his own right, Karl combines extensive research with a keen appreciation of Conrad's literary achievements and scrupulous analysis of his subject's novels, short stories, memoirs and even the three plays he wrote in his always urgent quest to obtain a steady source of income for his family.  He depicts Conrad's life as a voyage of discovery divided into three distinct but overlapping phases –– the young self-exiled Pole struggling to find a purpose and make his way in the world, the apprentice seaman who taught himself to speak and read English and rose through the ranks of the British merchant service to become master of the Otago in 1885 only to be denied the captaincy he undoubtedly deserved, and finally the writer who faced a different kind of struggle to earn enough by his pen to support his ailing wife and sons. 

 

Building upon what was unearthed by Conrad's previous biographers, Karl refutes many of their unsubstantiated claims (particularly those of Jean-Aubry) while confirming and elaborating on others, doing it all in a style that never patronizes the reader or becomes so academic as to become off-putting or tedious to read.  He is refreshingly honest about the uneven quality of much of Conrad's later output, unafraid to state which, in his view, are his important works and which, like his last published novel The Rover (1923), would probably not have seen the light of day had their author not been so chronically strapped for cash throughout so much of his career. 

 

The Three Lives was recognised as the masterpiece it is by many leading reviewers of the day, including Anthony Burgess who described it as '…a model of American scholarship in which not even the most recherché reference has gone unresearchedIt tells the story of a very sad man, a hopeless warrior, and of the heroinism of a wife who… suffered not only in herself but for him.'  There have, of course, been many other Conrad biographies published since 1979 but none, I dare to venture, that compare with Professor Karl's work in terms of erudition and sheer attention to detail.  

 

Joseph Conrad: The Three Lives is no longer in print. 

 

FREDERICK R KARL was the co-editor, with his colleague LAURENCE DAVIES, of The Collected Letters of Joseph Conrad which were published in nine volumes by the Cambridge University Press between 1983 and 2007.

 

 
 


Oxford University Press, 2000

 

 

Oxford Reader's Companion to Conrad (2000) by OWEN KNOWLES and GENE MOORE [editors]

 

This slim but densely packed book, first published in hardback by the Oxford University Press in 2000, is aptly named.  Edited by two of the world's leading Conrad scholars, with contributions from four of their colleagues including Zdzislaw Najder who was Conrad's first Polish biographer, it delivers exactly what its title promises –– an easy to use, cross-referenced guide to its subject's life and career which provides effective short analyses of all his published works (no story, tale, novel, play or significant piece of journalism or non-fiction is omitted), including summaries of their plots, overviews of past and current critical responses along with many helpful suggestions for further reading.  

 

This is the book I find myself automatically reaching for when I need further information regarding a particular point of Conrad's life or work.  (This post would have been difficult to write without it.)  It is informative, concise and helpfully separated into categories like 'Private Life and Attitudes,' 'Reputation' and 'Critical Approaches' which make it an indispensable research tool for the scholar and non-specialist alike.  It also contains a well-structured chronology, a family tree and four maps of, respectively, Conrad's divided Poland, Conrad's Malay Archipelago (the setting for Lord Jim and much of his finest short fiction), the River Congo (the setting for The Heart of Darkness and a river he personally navigated in 1890 as first mate of the paddle steamer Roi des Belges) and his various Homes in southeast England.  What more could any Conrad enthusiast reasonably expect from a reference book?  This truly is a work designed for the so-called 'ordinary reader' (if there is such a thing), dating from a time before the internet became the preferred source of information not just about literature but about everything else on our factoid obsessed planet. 

 

The Oxford Reader's Companion to Joseph Conrad may still be obtainable from your local library, bookstore or preferred online provider.

 

 
 
 
 
THE JOSEPH CONRAD SOCIETY is a UK-based organisation (with an allied branch in North America) devoted to 'the study of all aspects of the writings and life of Joseph Conrad' that also aims to 'provide a forum and resource for Conrad scholars throughout the world and those with a strong interest in things Conradian.'
 


 

 

 

You might also enjoy:

 
 

The Secret Agent: A Simple Tale (1907) by JOSEPH CONRAD

 
 

The Write Advice 118: JOSEPH CONRAD

 
 

A Call: The Tale of Two Passions (1910) by FORD MADOX FORD

 

 

 

 

Last updated 30 September 2021

Tuesday, 21 April 2020

Words for the Music 017: SANDY DENNY


SANDY DENNY
6 January 1947 – 21 April 1978





WHO KNOWS WHERE THE TIME GOES?
SANDY DENNY
John Peel Session – BBC Radio
11 September 1973





WHO KNOWS WHERE THE TIME GOES?


Across the evening sky 
All the birds are leaving
But how they can know 
It's time for them to go
Before the winter fire 
I shall still be dreaming
I do not count the time

For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

Sad deserted shore 
Your fickle friends are leaving
Ah but then you know 
It's time for them to go
But I shall still be here 
I have no thought of leaving
I have no thought of time

For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?

And I am not alone 
While my love is near me
And I know it shall be so 
Until it's time to go
So come the storms of winter 
And then the birds in spring again
I do not fear the time

For who knows how my love grows?
And who knows where the time goes?




Words and music by Sandy Denny
© 1967 Sony/ATV & Universal Music Publishing






Alexandra Elene MacLean Denny, who was born in the London suburb of Merton Park on 6 January 1947, was another supremely gifted human being who proved unable to curb her appetite for wilful self-destruction.  Her 1978 death, several weeks after falling down a flight of stairs in the Cornwall holiday home belonging to her parents, was the culmination of years of protracted drug and alcohol abuse and came as a profound if not entirely unexpected shock to her friends and former bandmates in The Strawbs, Fairport Convention and Fotheringay.  As Dave Swarbrick, one of those former bandmates, recalled: '…Looking back I think she was suffering from some kind of post-natal problem.  I very much regret that it wasn't picked up by me.  She was drinking and taking coke and smoking dope.  She wasn't happy in her marriage; it wasn't going anywhere but down.  I think suspicion ate her.  I feel as if she left mid-sentence and I mourn her leaving almost daily.'

While Denny's is not a story of talent completely wasted –– she made dozens of fine recordings, many of which are justifiably considered to be impeccable examples of traditional British folk and folk-rock at their best –– it is a story of talent misdirected and, to a certain degree, misunderstood by her various record companies and, more tragically, by herself.  Her career always seemed to lack a clear sense of direction, costing her the opportunity to become the household name that everyone who worked with her believed and agreed she deserved to become.

Who Knows Where The Times Goes? is perhaps her most famous original song, a haunting blend of her majestically expressive voice, a subtle modal melody and her restrained plain-spoken lyrics.  It's the apparently seamless blending of these elements which give the song its power, evoking a mood of aching wistfulness that lingers in the mind long after its final note has faded.  

For me Denny's lyrics can stand comparison with the work of great English poets like Thomas Hardy and AE Housman. There's a similar emphasis on contrasting the behaviour of the natural world with the narrator's state of mind, the passing of the seasons directly equated with the difficult to accept but nevertheless inevitable passing of time.  The imagery is as sparse as the music, demanding the listener's attention and effortlessly retaining it from beginning to end.  Very few singers are capable of achieving this using only their voice and an acoustic guitar.  Many try, but few succeed because a special kind of talent is required –– a talent Sandy Denny possessed in obvious abundance.

 

Use the link below to visit the website of British singer/songwriter SANDY DENNY (1947–1978):
 


 

Special thanks to everyone who takes the time to upload music to YouTube.  Your efforts are appreciated by music lovers everywhere.

 

You might also enjoy:

 
Words for the Music 009: VICTORIA WOOD

 
Words for the Music 005: MARGO PRICE

 
Words for the Music 003: IRIS DeMENT

 

Last updated 12 October 2021 §

Thursday, 16 April 2020

Think About It 054: DOROTHY ROWE


When reality becomes too much to bear we can comfort ourselves with fantasies, which is wise provided we remember that the stories we tell ourselves are fantasies.  If we fail to do this, if we think that our fantasies are real and true, we join the forces of unreason.  In the ranks of therapists there are some who do just this.  They develop a logic which conveniently ignores those constructions which do not fit their theories and thus they collude with the forces of unreason...
        Such collusion seems on many occasions to go beyond a mere failure of nerve. It seems instead to be an inability to understand and accept the peculiarity of our existence.
        This peculiarity is that, while the world we live in seems to be solid and real and shared with others, what we each experience is our individual construction.  We can imagine events which occur without any relationship to us, but what we have is not knowledge about such events but theories about such events.  In fact, everything we know is a theory, a construction, and this construction is inside our head...[and] our construction can come from nowhere other than our past experience, and no two people, not even identical twins, have the same experience.

The Comforts of Unreason (1997)


 

Use the link below to read the full 1997 article The Comforts of Unreason posted on the website of Australian psychologist DOROTHY ROWE:

 

http://www.dorothyrowe.com.au/articles/book-introductions/item/321-chapter-8-the-comforts-of-unreason-in-living-together-ed-david-kennard-and-neil-small-quartet-books-1997

 

 

You might also enjoy:

 
Think About It 014: DOROTHY ROWE

 
Think About It 023: CHARMIAN CLIFT

 
Think About It 043: KAREN HORNEY

 

Thursday, 9 April 2020

The Lonely Londoners (1956) by SAM SELVON


Panther Books UK, c 1975





The Old Moses, standing on the banks of the Thames.  Sometimes he think he see some sort of profound realisation in his life, as if all that happen to him was experience that make him a better man, as if now he could draw apart from any hustling and just sit down and watch other people fight to live.  Under the kiff-kiff laughter, behind the ballad and the episode, the what-happening, summer-is-hearts, he could see a great aimlessness, a great restless, swaying  movement that leaving you standing in the same spot.  As if a forlorn shadow of doom fall on all the spades in the country.  As if he could see the black faces bobbing up and down in the millions of white, strained faces, everybody hustling along the Strand, the spades jostling in the crowd, bewildered, hopeless.  As if, on the surface, things don’t look so bad, but when you go down a little, you bounce up a kind of misery and pathos and a frightening –– what?  He don’t know the right word, but he have the right feeling in his heart.  As if the boys laughing, but they only laughing because they 'fraid to cry, they only laughing because to think so much about everything would be a big calamity –– like how he here now, the thoughts so heavy like he unable to move his body.



 

 

The Novel:  The Lonely Londoners, a 1956 novel by Trinidadian immigrant Samuel Selvon, is first and foremost a tale of exile.  The exiles whose lives and problems Selvon so sympathetically explores are not political undesirables or religious refugees but ambitious young men of Caribbean origin who, thanks to the passing of the 1948 British Nationality Act –– a piece of legislation which granted any person born within the British Commonwealth the right to reside in any part of Britain as a means of rebuilding the nation's war-depleted workforce –– began to arrive in London in great numbers during the late 1940s and throughout the 1950s seeking a higher standard of living and opportunities unavailable to them in their impoverished island homelands.  What the new arrivals found for the most part was not prosperity but a xenophobic Britain clinging stubbornly to the memory of its pre-1939 past, a nation where people of colour were actively resented, vilified and treated as third-class citizens by its paranoid and occasionally violent white majority.  These men, or 'the boys' as Selvon ironically identifies them, became in effect double exiles –– unable to remain in the Caribbean for economic reasons but equally unable to find acceptance in a First World nation which viewed them, along with anybody else who wasn't white, as unwanted interlopers.

 

The novel begins with Moses Aloetta, a West Indian immigrant who has been in London for nearly ten years, boarding 'a number 46 bus… to go to Waterloo to meet a fellar who was coming from Trinidad on the boat-train… he get a letter from a friend in Trinidad who say that this fellar coming by the SS Hildebrand, and if he could please meet him at the station in London, and help him until he get settled… So for old time sake Moses find himself on the bus going to Waterloo, vex with himself that his heart so soft that he always doing something for somebody and nobody ever doing anything for him.'  The evening journey to the station is a familiar ritual to Moses, one that seldom fails to raise questions about the wisdom of remaining in the grey, fog-bound English capital instead of returning to the tropics where he'll no longer be treated like an unpaid welfare officer, helping the helpless so that they too can one day feel as uneasy and conflicted about their new environment as he does.

 

These thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of his Jamaican friend Tolroy who has come to the station to meet his newly-arrived mother.  'A old woman who like she would dead any minute come out of a carriage,' Moses sees, 'carrying a cardboard box and a paperbag.  When she get out the train she stand up there on the platform as if she confuse.  Then after she a young girl come, carrying a flourbag filled up with things.  Then a young man wearing a widebrim hat and a jacket falling below the knees.  Then a little boy and a little girl, then another old woman, tottering so much a guard had was to help her off the train.'  Rather than sailing from Kingston alone, as Tolroy expected her to do, his mother has brought the entire family with her –– a situation quickly noted by a white newspaper reporter who, to the great distress of Tolroy and the undisguisable amusement of Moses, interviews and photographs the newcomers for an article he's writing about the problem of 'excessive immigration.'

 

Despite the humour of this episode, much of which is provided by Tolroy's mother and his outspoken aunt or Tanty, its message is depressingly unambiguous.  Moses and his kind are not welcome in Britain and the 'fellar' he came to the station to meet and assist –– Henry Oliver, better known as Sir Galahad –– is in for a rough time of itGalahad is yet another ‘test, or immigrant, whose life will also become a daily struggle to find work, shelter and some kind of stable future in a country where none of these things can be taken for granted if the person seeking them happens to be black.

 

 

Longman UK first edition, 1956

 

 

What follows is less a traditionally structured novel than a vivid portrait of a society on the brink of what would prove to be far-reaching and irreversible social change, resulting in the birth of what we now know, comfortably or not, as multiculturalism.  Through the eyes of Moses and 'the boys' –– the optimistic, London-loving Galahad who devises a means of catching Trafalgar Square pigeons so he can cook and eat them in his room, the Nigerian ex-law student Cap who’s always trying to borrow money he never repays and has sex with a male prostitute dressed in drag whom he unwittingly mistakes for a woman, Big City who dreams of winning the football pools but never learns how to fill out an entry coupon, Harris the well-spoken pseudo-gentleman who carries a rolled-up umbrella and a copy of The Times everywhere he goes in a farcical effort to assimilate –– we're shown a city that is simultaneously magical and forbidding, filled with temptation and delight but also rigorous in its austerity, a place that becomes a fog and smog shrouded necropolis during the winter months, only to come gloriously alive again with the return of warmer weather when the girls ‘throw away heavy winter coat and wearing light summer frocks so you could see the legs and the shapes that was hiding away from the cold blasts.’

 

Unlike the jaded and melancholy Moses, Galahad is still new enough to London to feel humbled by the sight of its famous streets and landmarksWhile the white inhabitants of London distrust and fear him and his fellow 'tests' –– all of whom they automatically assume to have emigrated to England from Jamaica, no matter which part of the Caribbean they happen to have come from –– he develops a genuine affection for the city, almost unable to believe that he, an untravelled 'fellar' from Trinidad, can actually go to famous places like Trafalgar Square and Charing Cross and make a date to meet 'a nice piece of skin [a white girl]… under the big clock in Piccadilly Tube Station.'  

 

But sexual acceptance, while gratifying in its own way, is not the same thing as unconditional tolerance.  While some white girls will date and even sleep with black men this is sometimes more a case of them seeking a bit of novelty in their humdrum lives than it is of permanently overcoming deeply ingrained racial and social prejudicesIn time even the irrepressible Galahad finds himself falling victim to despair, turning on himself in an attempt to define the causes of racism and the problems it creates.  'Colour,' he says while studying the back of his hand one night in his dingy basement room, ‘is you that causing all this, you know.  Why the hell can’t you be blue, or red or green, if you can’t be white?… I ain’t do anything to infuriate the people and them, is you!  Look at you, you so black and innocent, and this time so you causing misery all over the world!' 

 

 

Penguin Modern Classics UK, 2006

 

 

The plight of Galahad, Moses and their fellow immigrants is underscored by the very distinctive language employed by Selvon to tell their respective stories.  Doing this in what critic Susheila Nasta describes as their own 'creolized voice' gives the narrative an authenticity and linguistic verve it may have lacked had it been composed in standard British English.  Like all exile communities, Moses and his friends cling to their language as a means of remaining connected to their culture –– to feel, in other words, less lonely, less forsaken, less ground down by the hostile realities of life in a place where the colour bar sees them treated abominably by employers, landladies and even by children unused to seeing black men walking the streets or working as conductors on London's famous red buses.

 

Surprisingly, this was not how Selvon originally pictured himself writing the book.  'When I wrote the novel that became The Lonely Londoners,' he once told an interviewer, 'I tried to recapture a certain quality in West Indian everyday life.  I had in store a number of wonderful anecdotes and could put them into focus, but I had difficulty starting the novel in straight English.  The people I wanted to describe were entertaining people indeed, but I could not really move.  At that stage, I had written the narrative in English and most of the dialogues in dialect. Then I started both narrative and dialogue in dialect and the novel just shot along.'  The book does shoot along, aided by a picaresque, sometimes very fluid style of writing which manages to combine humour and youthful exuberance with a gnawing undercurrent of sadness if not futility.  

 

What makes The Lonely Londoners all the more exceptional as a piece of fiction is the fact that none of the questions it raises about race, exile and acceptance have been successfully answered by any British government since it was first published more than six decades ago.  Immigrants continue to be feared, resented and marginalised in Britain as they are in all Western nations, paving the way for the poll that saw 51.89% of the British population vote in favour of the UK leaving the European Union in 2016.  The massacre of the Muslim Rohingya people by the Buddhist government of Myanmar and the election of Donald Trump –– whom most in-the-know pundits insisted could 'never' become the US President –– serve as further proof that racism is alive and well in the twenty-first century and will only continue to thrive as climate change and health crises like the current coronavirus outbreak combine to make many parts of the world uninhabitable.  

 

It's important to remember that major race riots broke out in many English cities, including London, Birmingham and Nottingham, just one year after The Lonely Londoners was published, with neo-fascist white supremacist organisations like the Union Movement, the League of Empire Loyalists and the White Defence League actively encouraging their members to confront and physically assault immigrants to show them exactly how unwelcome they were in Britain.  Something tells me, each time I re-read the haunting words of Moses which open this post, that he would be no more optimistic about his chances of being accepted in 2020 than he was in 1956, despite the fact that people of Caribbean descent now comprise 4.2% of London's total population.  Selvon's genius lay in his ability to personalize the dilemma of exiles like Moses and Sir Galahad, emphasizing their humanity and the corrosive psychological impact that racism has on the hated and their fear and ignorance-driven haters alike.  It remains one of the most moving novels of exile ever written, shedding much needed light on the plight of those whose lives and hopes for a better future are generally ignored by conservative politicians and a tabloid media eager to portray immigrants, legal or otherwise, as the criminal scum of the earth.

 

 
 

SAMUEL SELVON, 1961

 

 

 

The Writer:  In May 1948 a confiscated Nazi ship, ceded to Britain as part of its war reparations and rechristened the MV Empire Windrush, docked in the Jamaican port city of Kingston.  The ship was travelling from Australia to England, carrying a mixture of Polish war refugees and British military personnel, but was only half full for what would be the final leg of its voyage.  This fact prompted some enterprising person to place an ad in a Kingston newspaper offering cheap passage to the 'Mother Country' for anyone wishing to seek employment there under the terms established by the recently passed British Nationality Act.   

 

On 22 June 1948 the ship berthed at Tilbury Dock on the Thames, bringing 492 immigrants from Jamaica, Barbados, Antigua and many other Caribbean nations to the cold and, for the most part, inhospitable city of London.  The arrival of these immigrants, who were subsequently dubbed 'the Windrush generation' by the English press, opened the floodgates to what quickly became a tidal wave of Caribbean immigration and ultimately led to the UK becoming the multicultural if deeply divided society it is today.

 

One of these new arrivals was a twenty-seven year old journalist and writer named Samuel Dickson Selvon.  The sixth of seven children born to an Indian family which could trace its roots back to Madras on the father's side and to Scotland on the mother's side, he had been born on 20 May 1923 in Barataria, a small village on what were then the outskirts of San Fernando, largest city in the dual island nation of Trinidad and Tobago.  Although poor, his shopkeeper father was able to send him to the city's prestigious Naparima College, where he was educated until financial necessity obliged him to leave school at the age of fifteen to help support his family.  Selvon joined the Royal Naval Reserve when war broke out in 1939 and spent the next six years on ships assigned the vital task of patrolling the Caribbean Sea, finding distraction from the monotony of naval life by writing poetry while off duty.  His naval duties also brought him into contact with US service personnel who had come to Trinidad to build the Churchill-Roosevelt Highway, experiences he later fictionalized in his debut novel A Brighter Sun (1952) which explores rural life and the changes inflicted upon the local population by the construction of what was deemed by the US Government to be a vital piece of military infrastructure.

 

Selvon relocated to Port of Spain in 1945, where he found a job on the capital's oldest daily newspaper The Trinidad and Tobago Guardian as a reporter and occasional literary critic.  Working for a newspaper also allowed him to publish many of his own short stories in its pages under a variety of colourful pseudonyms including Ack-Ack and Big Buffer, which in turn led to much of his work being printed in small Caribbean-based reviews and magazines.  Although he married in 1947 and soon became the father of a daughter, this did not prevent Selvon from sailing for the greener literary pastures of England when the opportunity to do so presented itself in 1950.  'I was just swept up by exaltation,' he later recalled.  'I was as naïve as any immigrant coming out of a small island to live in a country like England.'  After obtaining a clerical post at the Indian Embassy and finding accommodation in the economically depressed (and therefore affordable) London suburb of Notting Hill, he began to spend his evenings trying to finish A Brighter Sun. 

 

Perhaps without realising it, Selvon's arrival and subsequent success in London –– his first novel was favourably reviewed and later became a standard text in English schools, while his short fiction and poetry found a welcome home in small literary journals like Bim and then in mainstream publications like The New Statesman and London Magazine –– helped to shape what, throughout the 1950s and into the 1960s, became an offshore artistic renaissance known as the Caribbean Artists Movement.  Thanks to intra-Commonwealth immigration, the UK became home to many poets, musicians and novelists –– among them future Nobel Prize winner VS Naipaul –– who, through their work, would help to define the Caribbean identity and raise public awareness of how West Indian immigrants were treated by Britain's largely racist white majority.  This process was aided, in Selvon's case, by his ability to successfully adapt his work for radio, with many of his stories and plays reaching a wider audience via BBC broadcasts over a period of several decades.  His achievements become even more remarkable when you stop to consider that he fell seriously ill with tuberculosis in 1953 and took a year to fully recover from the disease. 

 

The 1955 publication of Selvon's second novel An Island Is A World earned him the first of two Guggenheim scholarships and saw him develop an international reputation that, in time, would see him awarded a fellowship in creative writing at the University of Dundee and become a popular speaker on the academic lecture circuit.  He continued to publish novels and story collections throughout the 1960s and early 1970s with Moses Ascending, a sequel to The Lonely Londoners, appearing in 1975.

  

 

SAMUEL SELVON, c 1983

 

 

Three years later Selvon left England for Canada to accept a post as visiting professor at the University of Victoria, taking a job as a janitor at the school once his academic term there had expired.  He was subsequently offered a post as writer-in-residence at the University of Calgary, a job he retained for the rest of his life despite the fact that his work was little known and apparently little read in his second adopted homeland.  This may explain why he didn't publish his next novel –– a sequel to Moses Ascending titled Moses Migrating –– until 1983.  Although this was to be his final novel, he went on to publish a collection of his shorter prose and two drama collections before dying from respiratory failure in the lounge of Trinidad's Piarco International Airport on 16 April 1994.   

 

Selvon was not only a great and distinctive writer, he was also a great man, beloved by everyone who came into contact with him during the course of his long and, in some ways, unlikely career.  As his obituary so tellingly expressed it:  'There was an element of Selvon himself in the Moses of his London books, wandering with the immigrant tribes in the wilderness of Bayswater and Marble Arch.  Yet there is also an element of self-parody.  Selvon was the most gentle, self-effacing of men, hardly a Moses.  The pressures of late success would have been hard to cope with, had he not been protected by his many friends worldwide.  To the end he remained extraordinarily unaffected by fame, a warm and sensitive personality whose art and persona formed a seamless whole.  It is fitting that, after a life of exile, he should have come home to end it in Trinidad.'

 
 
 
Use the links below to read a 1993 interview with SAMUEL SELVON and his 1994 obituary:
 
 
 
 

 
 


 

 

The tragicomic tale of Moses Aloetta continues in the sequels Moses Ascending (1975) and Moses Migrating (1983).  Thankfully, some of SELVON's other novels –– including A Brighter Sun (1952) and The Housing Lark (1960) –– are now back in print.

 
 
 
 
 
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Alternative title, c 1960