Customer Reviews

Africa Speaks

5 star:		(12)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

So how does a mature Jewish professor dare to write a novel in street dialect about a young black man, and how could it be done well? Well, the first question doesn't require an answer. He did it. And the second is answered by the book. It's fine.

But what is its value? What does fiction do, at its best? It allows us to inhabit a person that we could hardly understand otherwise. Here we have white America's worst nightmare depicted: a young tough smart black man who doesn't give a damn.

Now black writers may feel that Goldblatt is poaching on their reservation. But foreignness can give a writer an advantage. And there's another advantage here to not being black. A black writer has a complex reaction to this character too. He or she is as likely to be afraid of such guys as a white; plus there's some group solidarity - don't expose this side of our people in front of the outsiders. Or there's irritation at someone who is squandering his opportunities ; or there's a desire to use this character to beat up on white readers, scare them or make them feel guilty. The white author is free of those possible hang-ups.

An author may love his characters or hate them, or he may take sides. Love some, hate others. Dickens and Tolstoy I consider to be obvious examples of writers who love their characters; they love even their villains. For hatred it's hard to match Evelyn Waugh. (A Handful of Dust would be the absolute indicator.)

Here's the amazing thing about Africa Speaks. Goldblatt loves his character. He gives so much detail of the life so quickly. Violent crime, wasted educational opportunities, intolerable attitudes toward women and sex, nonsensical racist rant, these are unfortunate details in a man who may not be lovable, but is loved anyway. But how do I know Goldblatt loves Africa Ali? Chuang Tzu and the fishes. The Chinese philosopher walking along the stream comments on the joy of the fishes. His companion complains that he couldn't possibly know that. He responds that he knows by the joy he feels watching them.

So here's what this book does. It lets urban middle class white readers enter into a relationship of love with a character that they see every day, but will never be close to. This is not the relationship they will have with the pathetic Bigger Thomas, for sure. Easy Rawlins, Mosley's detective hero, may be enjoyable, and likable but no more real than a TV cop. And not BAD. Black male figures in literature are either not the man we fear, or not a man we can love. Africa Ali is both. Isn't that something.

The unobtrusive frame of the story is that Africa has volunteered to state his view of life to a sociology prof with a tape recorder who buys him Chinese lunch. Africa isn't the only character. On days when he can't make it he sends friends. A promiscuous black woman who loves him, an ambitious young man working a menial job to start a normal life, and a pompous young Afrocentric university student. They are all presented lovingly. In the background is another friend, a real violent gangster. He never appears. Goldblatt's benevolence, perhaps, could not stretch so far.

The street attitude toward sex, and the nonsensical prating of Afrocentrist rant should be funny, but the urban pathology is simply too painful for these vivid raps to be really hilarious. Guys like Africa, however, are eloquent performers in a style that is constructed to be amusing, and the author puts it down wonderfully well. So it's amusing even if not funny(?) Still, for a piece of sociology combined with linguistics and rolled into a fictional package, it's great.

The fact that this significant book is not widely reviewed in periodicals is a scandal.

I wouldn't be writing this review except for the last couple of reviews which imply that Goldblatt should not have written this because he's white, or that he doesn't get the language of hip hop exactly right. I read this book right after it came out, and I am a big time fan of hip hop, and I can tell you he got the language just right. Not to say he got it exactly the way it's spoken on the street. If he tried to do that, the book would have been dated before it ever got published--since hip hop slang changes every week. (That's one of hip hop's strengths.) What Goldblatt does is he invents a kind of essential hip hop language--close enough to sound real but still understandable to non-hip hop fans. Then he uses that language to tell the story of Africa Ali, who is the main narrator. The things Africa says may not be pretty, but they're true in the way that only fiction can be true; they're true to the character of Africa. It's easy to say, but I'll say it anyway: I personally guarantee you'll laugh out loud and cry out loud in the course of reading this book. You'll love every character in the book, and you'll root for them, and you'll read the book over and over just to hear their voices again. This is everything ia classic should be. And if you don't read it because other readers, with axes to grind, put you off it, it will be your loss.

I found this book compelling and convincing. Its stark portrayal of the logical consequences of the rap ethos, its bleak humor, and its engaging characters take this beyond the question of idiom or stereotype. Whether posturing for the interviewer or puzzling out the mystery of racism, Africa Ali and his cohorts seem desperate to tell their stories, and it seems to me that those stories -- authentic or not -- deserve to be told. If the stories frighten the whites and frustrate the blacks, so much the better.

Novels may be the ideal space in which to consider and encounter otherness. Africa's life and language are alien to me, and so is urban black culture in general. Reading this novel, knowing it was written by a white man, forced me to decide where my own sympathies (and pathologies) might be located. If rap were turned into narrative, would it be like this? If I find these characters sympathetic, does that make me a racist because, as some reviewers have said, they are stereotypes? Or does it mean that I have broken through the stereotypes to their humanity? Maybe the important thing is to be asking the question. This novel startled and challenged me, and that's a good thing.

Unfortunately, the controversy over whether a white man can legitimately write a novel about black culture speaks volumes about the strangle-hold identity politics has taken on America: perhaps our desire for authenticity, and our wish that the oppressed might speak for themselves, has closed doors to creativity that ought to be left open. In any case, I plan to teach this book in my class on Contemporary American Literature, and let the students debate the question.

This may not be the Great American Novel, but it's as close as anyone's gotten in the last 25 years, and it's damn sure closer than any of the bloated 800 page monstrosities critics like to put up on that pedestal. Face it--race is THE subject, for better or worse, of American writing, and this book tackles it with no holds barred. It's an ugly, brutal, heartbreaking, absolutely truthful book. If other readers (and critics) have a problem with that, it's their loss.

This book caught me off-guard. The well-written satire is fascinating fast-paced, sad, and thought provoking. I picked it up and was intrigued by the first paragraph and opening page. I didnt put it down until I finished the book, a few hours later. I found myself wanting to further understand the main character, Africa, and hoped I could find some empathy for him and his gang. The author of this book is a superb writer. I wanted to read more of his writing, and found many witty "to the point" articles in different journals and other publications. I would recommend this book highly, and hope the author continues to write fiction.

This book is superb. Although it is ostensibly a satire on black culture, it achieves a warmth and humanity that is usually alien to that genre. The characters are deeply engaging, so much so, that their failings are not to be sneered at, but rather lamented. It is as if the author has taken us behind the often grim exterior of "blackness" and revealed the humor, the humanity, and most importantly, the squandered potential that lies behind. And we owe that insight to the fact that this writer has great compassion for his characters. The novel is satire at its most educative, and most humane.
The book also moves at an incredible pace. Part of that is derived from the gripping storyline as it is advanced by the protagonist in his monologues. It is also due to Goldblatt's adept handling of black speech. The editorial blurb on the book jacket asserting that Goldblatt "has an ear for idiom" is an understatement, indeed. I highly recommend this novel.

This book is a hilarious and sobering look at a walking collection of social pathologies instantiated in the person of "Africa Ali". The character, not unlike many real life black males, has opted out of the responsible, productive society. In place of a fact based education, a Leonard Jeffries inspired racist mythology is enshrined as the intellectual ideal. The idealization of crimminal, irresponsible, and destructive behaviour has been made the badge of "authenticity" for "blackness". The sobering and depressing fact is that the black community itself is perpetuating this 'oppression'upon itself, cultural suicide in an increasingly complex and technological world. New immigrants see the downward spiral of black culture and form their own stereotypes from these observations. Asians and Hispanics are moving up the socio-economic ladder in this country when and because of their rejection of the underlying attitudes of black culture. In the not too distant future Hispanics will be more numerous than blacks and Asians will soon follow. This demographic trends will either sober blacks up OR cause them to add Asians and Hispanics to their racist litany of boogeymen along with whites and their all purpose demon of demons, Jews. There is truly little, if anything, admirable in hip hop culture. The best preventative medicine may be to laugh at it, long and hard. Teach your children to laugh at it as well. It does not deserve to be taken seriously.

The highest compliment I can pay this book is to reveal that I stopped reading it for a few weeks. Why? Because Mark Goldblatt's uncanny ear for the speech patterns of the fictional (yet vividly and insufferably real) Africa Ali sent me searching -- so to speak -- for a quieter subway car. That's not to say that Africa and the sad segment of society he represents is irredeemable. It's merely to state that people like me -- successful white males with the ability to understand and perhaps even change society -- don't want to do the redeeming: Africa and his friends can either shut up and do their thing somewhere else or I can just move to the next subway car. In that sense, Mark Goldblatt gets us to see that we are all part of both a problem and a great societal failure: Africa and I may be drinking from the same water fountain nowadays, but that's where it ends.

It is hard to review a book so unique without giving away some of its originality. The book is written in the first person, the narrator being an African-American who calls himself Africa. He talks about his life, his friends, his thoughts, his beliefs, his likes & dislikes, etc. We, the readers, become witnesses to sadder and darker realities and truths unfolding, as the main character nonchalantly walks us through his life and his conclusions. Several chapters are used to introduce us to his friends, and Mr. Goldblatt achieves that with great economy of style and observations that are both keen and powerful.
[SPOILERS FOLLOW] The genius of the book is multi-layered: first off, the book is written by a white person, Mr. Mark Goldblatt. Second, Mr. Goldblatt has an excellent ear for language and rhythm, and a profound understanding of mindset and its roots; it is as if he has distilled his character out of the many he has met, has listened to or has read. Third and most important, the book exposes some tragic truths about today's America, where people force themselves to fit into a manufactured reality. When we see the world through the eyes of the protagonist Africa, we are saddened to realize that many do indeed deceive and short-change themselves as thoroughly as he does, for the same reasons he does. Despite his bravado, the protagonist is a willing victim of the false myths that surround him, and doom him to his existence.
"Africa Speaks" is a must read: it is a brilliant tour-de-force that combines a tragedy and a heartfelt, brilliantly written wake-up call, to hopefully pull us out of our politically-correct stupor.

Judging from comments I have heard and read, it seems many readers miss the point of this novel entirely.

This is a work of satire. Goldblatt is lampooning and poking holes in the ridiculous movements that attempt to claim black culture as their own and use blacks as pawns for their own personal gain. He illustrates the lies both groups and individuals tell to continue the oppression and subjugation of the black population in the United States.

Rather than working for true equality based on mutual respect, people offer ideologies that create further conflict and guarantee blacks will remain a permanent underclass. Africa Ali-a clearly intelligent and ingenious young man-is doomed to a life of promiscuity, senseless violence, and the eventual deaths of his friends and families. All because he abandoned true opportunities in favor of the lies promoted by those who wish to keep him "in his place."

For example, the "angry black" archetype so commonly promoted in urban centers eliminates the possibility that such young people will be successful in public school, colleges, and in the work force. The ridiculous notion of "street cred" as the driving force to manhood leads to death or disabling injury. Alternatively, those who adopt viewpoints like those proffered by the black academic-i.e., whites stole all cultural achievement from the Nubians, etc.-are placed into a direct and permanent conflict with the (mostly white) gatekeepers of academia and our society's economy, greatly limiting their future chances for success.

The terrible consequence of all this is a glimpse into the potential fate of the entire black culture: when the people in power feel threatened, they tend to eliminate the threat. Hopefully, people will wake up and realize that mutual respect, honesty, and love are the only hope we have as a human race.