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Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone
At the height of his theatrical career, the actor Leo Proudhammer is nearly felled by a heart attack. As he hovers between life and death, Baldwin shows the choices that have made him enviably famous and terrifyingly vulnerable.
For between Leo's childhood on the streets of Harlem and his arrival into the intoxicating world of the theater lies a wilderness of desire and loss, shame and rage. An adored older brother vanishes into prison. There are love affairs with a white woman and a younger black man, each of whom will make irresistible claims on Leo's loyalty. And everywhere there is the anguish of being black in a society that at times seems poised on the brink of total racial war. Overpowering in its vitality, extravagant in the intensity of its feeling, Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone is a major work of American literature.
For between Leo's childhood on the streets of Harlem and his arrival into the intoxicating world of the theater lies a wilderness of desire and loss, shame and rage. An adored older brother vanishes into prison. There are love affairs with a white woman and a younger black man, each of whom will make irresistible claims on Leo's loyalty. And everywhere there is the anguish of being black in a society that at times seems poised on the brink of total racial war. Overpowering in its vitality, extravagant in the intensity of its feeling, Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone is a major work of American literature.
496 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1968
About the author
James Baldwin
292 books12.9k followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the Goodreads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
Works of American writer James Arthur Baldwin, outspoken critic of racism, include Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953), a novel, and Notes of a Native Son (1955), a collection of essays.
James Arthur Baldwin authored plays and poems in society.
He came as the eldest of nine children; his stepfather served as a minister. At 14 years of age in 1938, Baldwin preached at the small fireside Pentecostal church in Harlem. From religion in the early 1940s, he transferred his faith to literature with the still evident impassioned cadences of black churches. From 1948, Baldwin made his home primarily in the south of France but often returned to the United States of America to lecture or to teach.
In his Giovanni's Room, a white American expatriate must come to terms with his homosexuality. In 1957, he began spending half of each year in city of New York.
James Baldwin offered a vital literary voice during the era of civil rights activism in the 1950s and 1960s.
He first partially autobiographically accounted his youth. His influential Nobody Knows My Name and The Fire Next Time informed a large white audience. Another Country talks about gay sexual tensions among intellectuals of New York. The black community savaged his gay themes. Eldridge Cleaver of the Black Panthers stated the Baldwin displayed an "agonizing, total hatred of blacks." People produced Blues for Mister Charlie, play of Baldwin, in 1964.
Going to Meet the Man and Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone provided powerful descriptions. He as an openly gay man increasingly in condemned discrimination against lesbian persons.
From stomach cancer, Baldwin died in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, France. People buried his body at the Ferncliff cemetery in Hartsdale near city of New York.
Works of American writer James Arthur Baldwin, outspoken critic of racism, include Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953), a novel, and Notes of a Native Son (1955), a collection of essays.
James Arthur Baldwin authored plays and poems in society.
He came as the eldest of nine children; his stepfather served as a minister. At 14 years of age in 1938, Baldwin preached at the small fireside Pentecostal church in Harlem. From religion in the early 1940s, he transferred his faith to literature with the still evident impassioned cadences of black churches. From 1948, Baldwin made his home primarily in the south of France but often returned to the United States of America to lecture or to teach.
In his Giovanni's Room, a white American expatriate must come to terms with his homosexuality. In 1957, he began spending half of each year in city of New York.
James Baldwin offered a vital literary voice during the era of civil rights activism in the 1950s and 1960s.
He first partially autobiographically accounted his youth. His influential Nobody Knows My Name and The Fire Next Time informed a large white audience. Another Country talks about gay sexual tensions among intellectuals of New York. The black community savaged his gay themes. Eldridge Cleaver of the Black Panthers stated the Baldwin displayed an "agonizing, total hatred of blacks." People produced Blues for Mister Charlie, play of Baldwin, in 1964.
Going to Meet the Man and Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone provided powerful descriptions. He as an openly gay man increasingly in condemned discrimination against lesbian persons.
From stomach cancer, Baldwin died in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, France. People buried his body at the Ferncliff cemetery in Hartsdale near city of New York.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 424 reviews
March 29, 2020
"But what, I asked myself, was I to do with her? Love, honor and protect. But these were not among my possibilities. And, since they were not, I felt myself, bitterly, and most unwillingly, holding myself outside her sorrow; holding myself, in fact, outside her love; holding myself beyond the reach of my blasted possibilities."
I borrowed this novel from The James Baldwin Library in New Hampshire and read it over the course of a week, only a walk away from the cabin where Baldwin wrote Another Country; in fact, this novel is similar to Another Country in 'mood' and 'texture.' It is not as lyrical or introspective as his others (I say this as a person with six Baldwin books on her bookshelf). Just Above My Head remains my favorite for style, 'voice', and complexity, but this novel is reminiscent of it. There was something profound about being in his library, being close to all these different versions and translations of him.
And then I came across Mario Puzo's nauseating and condescending 1968 review of this novel and couldn't help but wonder how many novelists' works struggled from this kind of obtuse criticism. How could a critic be so socially unaware and yet so arrogant in this insistence? One sentence in that review states that Baldwin expects the reader to believe that Barbara, a 39-year-old white, rich, beautiful actress remains in love with the main character, Leo, a black, bisexual man (who, by the way, isn't fully 'out' until later). Sorry to say it, Mario, but yes, welcome to his world.
One thing this novel illustrates are the lasting effects of trauma on African American children, trauma as a result of police brutality witnessed or experienced during childhood. Again, I borrow Ralph Ellison's words, which I stated in this review of Invisible Man :"If social protest is antithetical to art, what then shall we make of Goya, Dickens, and Twain?"
I admired the formulation of love in this novel: love as friendship and lust, love as a lifetime bond, love as a barrier that withholds identity crises, love as a shield against the fucked up realities of this cruel world. What I enjoyed about love in this particular James Baldwin novel is that love is hopeful, proud, long-lasting, and doesn't give a damn about the judgement of others or the flaw in its subject. I've intentionally avoided discussing plot here, but if I were to say a thing or two about it, I would say that I didn't think this was as much about Leo, the actor who recovers from a heart attack as he gives retrospective narrative about his alarming childhood and the trauma he experiences, as it is about showing the grit that surfaces from trauma, the determination to succeed, even at the risk of sacrifice; the losing of oneself in order to get what is deserving of one's talent; the alienation of success. This is what Barbara, Leo, and their unconventional life together exemplified and this is one of many reasons I loved this book.
I borrowed this novel from The James Baldwin Library in New Hampshire and read it over the course of a week, only a walk away from the cabin where Baldwin wrote Another Country; in fact, this novel is similar to Another Country in 'mood' and 'texture.' It is not as lyrical or introspective as his others (I say this as a person with six Baldwin books on her bookshelf). Just Above My Head remains my favorite for style, 'voice', and complexity, but this novel is reminiscent of it. There was something profound about being in his library, being close to all these different versions and translations of him.
And then I came across Mario Puzo's nauseating and condescending 1968 review of this novel and couldn't help but wonder how many novelists' works struggled from this kind of obtuse criticism. How could a critic be so socially unaware and yet so arrogant in this insistence? One sentence in that review states that Baldwin expects the reader to believe that Barbara, a 39-year-old white, rich, beautiful actress remains in love with the main character, Leo, a black, bisexual man (who, by the way, isn't fully 'out' until later). Sorry to say it, Mario, but yes, welcome to his world.
One thing this novel illustrates are the lasting effects of trauma on African American children, trauma as a result of police brutality witnessed or experienced during childhood. Again, I borrow Ralph Ellison's words, which I stated in this review of Invisible Man :"If social protest is antithetical to art, what then shall we make of Goya, Dickens, and Twain?"
I admired the formulation of love in this novel: love as friendship and lust, love as a lifetime bond, love as a barrier that withholds identity crises, love as a shield against the fucked up realities of this cruel world. What I enjoyed about love in this particular James Baldwin novel is that love is hopeful, proud, long-lasting, and doesn't give a damn about the judgement of others or the flaw in its subject. I've intentionally avoided discussing plot here, but if I were to say a thing or two about it, I would say that I didn't think this was as much about Leo, the actor who recovers from a heart attack as he gives retrospective narrative about his alarming childhood and the trauma he experiences, as it is about showing the grit that surfaces from trauma, the determination to succeed, even at the risk of sacrifice; the losing of oneself in order to get what is deserving of one's talent; the alienation of success. This is what Barbara, Leo, and their unconventional life together exemplified and this is one of many reasons I loved this book.
January 15, 2018
I was a bit anxious to read this one because lately I've been eagerly declaring that Baldwin (with Stefan Zweig) is my favourite -or at least the most versatile and ahead of his era- writer.
Baldwin's essay collections are sublime and even (or better: certainly) today quintessential reading. But his novels, man! Don't misjudge his scope: he goes way further than the afro-American struggle theme he's famous for. I actually know few writers with such depth and insight in the human psyche and such accurate drawing of real life characters.
My advice on diving into his fiction:
Commence with Giovanni's room,
continue with Another country
and please don't skip Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone. The latter is in some parts a little less lucid and inviting as the others, but what this author does with the English language and storytelling is of another level. The power, anger, love, fear, hope, ambition, all with such a personal and yet universal quality and timbre to it.
It is rare to find a book which you want to savour and devour at the same time: slowly reading line by line tasting it's poetry and urgently turning pages to find out what's ahead.
Next time somebody claims Philip Roth is entitled to winning the Nobel prize, I will ask if he or she read enough Baldwin.
Baldwin's essay collections are sublime and even (or better: certainly) today quintessential reading. But his novels, man! Don't misjudge his scope: he goes way further than the afro-American struggle theme he's famous for. I actually know few writers with such depth and insight in the human psyche and such accurate drawing of real life characters.
My advice on diving into his fiction:
Commence with Giovanni's room,
continue with Another country
and please don't skip Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone. The latter is in some parts a little less lucid and inviting as the others, but what this author does with the English language and storytelling is of another level. The power, anger, love, fear, hope, ambition, all with such a personal and yet universal quality and timbre to it.
It is rare to find a book which you want to savour and devour at the same time: slowly reading line by line tasting it's poetry and urgently turning pages to find out what's ahead.
Next time somebody claims Philip Roth is entitled to winning the Nobel prize, I will ask if he or she read enough Baldwin.
August 3, 2019
Bir dönem ülkemizde de yaşayan, tiyatro oyunları sahneleyen James Baldwin'in son büyük eseri kabul edilen ve kimi otobiyografik öğelerde bulunan Ne Zaman Gitti Treni büyük bir keyifle okudum.
Kitap 40'lı yaşların başında olan büyük tiyatro sanatçısı Leo Proudhammer'in sahnede geçirdiği kalp krizi ile başlıyor. Sonrasında ölümden dönen kahramanınımızı hastane odasında geçmişiyle boğuşurken buluyoruz. Üç bölümden oluşan kitabın Ev Zencisi bölümünde 30'ların Harlem'ine konuk oluyoruz. Siyah bir çocuğun siyah evinde ve siyah sokaklarda geçen bu bölüm, sanatçı kimliğinini yanına eylemci kimliğini de ekleyen Leo' nun Beyaz Amerika'dan nefretinini oluşturduğu anlara tanık ediyor okuru. Polislerin pis beyaz elleri üzerinde nedensizce gezerken 9 yaşındaki çocuk şöyle diyor "tanrıya hepsini öldürmesi için dua ettim. Sonra tanrıdan nefret ettim." Umutsuzluk kokan ve sonu ya hapis ya beyazlara hizmet ile bitecek bu hayattan çıkışı oyunculukta bulan Leo'yu ikinci bölümde Amerika taşrasında aktör eğitim salonunda buluyoruz ki bence kitabın en güçlü yeri burası. Baldwin' in fanonu okuyup okumadığını bilmiyorum ancak Siyah Deri Beyaz Maskeler kitabındaki psikoseksüel tespitler, siyah erkek beyaz kadın ilişkisine dair çok güçlü çıkarımlar Barbara- Leo ikilisinin bilinçaltlarından süzülerek karşımıza çıkıyor. Son bölüm ise sahne yıldızı sokak eylemcisi Leo' nun hastaneden çıkışı ile başlıyor ve sürprizsiz bir sona doğru ilerliyor.
Ne Zaman Gitti Tren sizi metin ya da kurgu olarak şaşırtacak, ters köşe olacağınız bir eser değil, post modern anlatı meftunları için arkaik bir eser bile denebilir. Ancak Amerika'da siyah olmaya, bunun yarattığı fiziki ve psikolojik yıkıma dair okunabilecek duru, yetkin ve içerden bir eser.
Yerini ve sınırlarını kabullenmeyen bu siyah çocuğun Harlem'den zirveye ulaşan kişisel hikayesini, kendi ötekisini öcüleştiren bütün taşralılara, Franz Fanon' un lanetlilerine, " soylu ruhları ırkçı" olmayan beyazlara ve iyi okura öneririm.
Kitap 40'lı yaşların başında olan büyük tiyatro sanatçısı Leo Proudhammer'in sahnede geçirdiği kalp krizi ile başlıyor. Sonrasında ölümden dönen kahramanınımızı hastane odasında geçmişiyle boğuşurken buluyoruz. Üç bölümden oluşan kitabın Ev Zencisi bölümünde 30'ların Harlem'ine konuk oluyoruz. Siyah bir çocuğun siyah evinde ve siyah sokaklarda geçen bu bölüm, sanatçı kimliğinini yanına eylemci kimliğini de ekleyen Leo' nun Beyaz Amerika'dan nefretinini oluşturduğu anlara tanık ediyor okuru. Polislerin pis beyaz elleri üzerinde nedensizce gezerken 9 yaşındaki çocuk şöyle diyor "tanrıya hepsini öldürmesi için dua ettim. Sonra tanrıdan nefret ettim." Umutsuzluk kokan ve sonu ya hapis ya beyazlara hizmet ile bitecek bu hayattan çıkışı oyunculukta bulan Leo'yu ikinci bölümde Amerika taşrasında aktör eğitim salonunda buluyoruz ki bence kitabın en güçlü yeri burası. Baldwin' in fanonu okuyup okumadığını bilmiyorum ancak Siyah Deri Beyaz Maskeler kitabındaki psikoseksüel tespitler, siyah erkek beyaz kadın ilişkisine dair çok güçlü çıkarımlar Barbara- Leo ikilisinin bilinçaltlarından süzülerek karşımıza çıkıyor. Son bölüm ise sahne yıldızı sokak eylemcisi Leo' nun hastaneden çıkışı ile başlıyor ve sürprizsiz bir sona doğru ilerliyor.
Ne Zaman Gitti Tren sizi metin ya da kurgu olarak şaşırtacak, ters köşe olacağınız bir eser değil, post modern anlatı meftunları için arkaik bir eser bile denebilir. Ancak Amerika'da siyah olmaya, bunun yarattığı fiziki ve psikolojik yıkıma dair okunabilecek duru, yetkin ve içerden bir eser.
Yerini ve sınırlarını kabullenmeyen bu siyah çocuğun Harlem'den zirveye ulaşan kişisel hikayesini, kendi ötekisini öcüleştiren bütün taşralılara, Franz Fanon' un lanetlilerine, " soylu ruhları ırkçı" olmayan beyazlara ve iyi okura öneririm.
January 3, 2024
As the cover indicates, this is somewhat centered on an interracial relationship that began during WWII when Leo Proudhammer was a teenager. But while that might have been a draw in 1968, it's different from what the book leaves us thinking about. Leo welcomes us to his book as he has a heart attack that began on stage while performing with Barbara, his white long-time partner. There are some oddities in his world and perspective, in his relationship with his stardom as his doctors and nurses fawn over him. There is no sense of personal empowerment or the kind of confidence you might expect in someone so successful. "You are news. Whatever you do is news. But it does not take long to realize, at least assuming one wishes to live, that to be news is really to be nothing." And then, he looks back and begins to tell his story. He grew up in Harlem, watching his revered older brother go to prison, practically divorcing his loving family to go into show business. The stress, dedication, and wildlife of being an actor without any income in New York City, working all night, rehearsing all day, and doing the crazy things we can do when we're young.
October 12, 2019
James Baldwin in 1968
My Litsy review:
"I got more and more into this kind of sensitive look at a life from the Harlem streets to fame. It‘s a long slow book, and very intimate. Loneliness takes many forms."
As the cover indicates, this is somewhat centered on an interracial relationship, one that began during WWII when Leo Proudhammer was teenager. But while that might have a been a draw of some kind in 1968, it's not what the book leaves us thinking about. Leo welcomes us to his book as he's having a heart attack that began on stage while he was performing with Barbara, his white long-time partner. There are some oddities in his world, and in his perspective, in his relationship to his own stardom as his doctors and nurses fawn over him. There is no sense of personal empowerment or the kind of confidence you might expect in someone so successful. "You are news. Whatever you do is news. But it does not take long to realize, at least assuming one wishes to live, that to be news is really to be nothing." And then he looks back and begins to tell his story, growing up in Harlem, watching his revered older brother go to prison, practically divorcing his loving family to go into show business. The stress, dedication, wild life of being an actor without any income New York City, working all night, rehearsing all day, doing the crazy things we can do when we're young.
Baldwin was a tender writer, and all his characters capture your affection, even if it's slowly drawn out, as here. I picked this up three times, and put it down twice, I didn't mind reading, and I didn't mind letting it sit. And when I picked it up again, I got right back into the flow, the poverty, and off-relationships, all of them. Leo Proudhammer is, of course, another Baldwin alter ego. He has a tough background, an ingrained sense of racism, he's bisexual with unusual choices of attachment, and, perhaps, very lonely, partially in a self-inflicted kind of way. "Everyone wishes to be loved, but, in the event, nearly no one can bear it." That loneliness is what I felt strongly as I finished and put the book down. It's there from opening, from the way Barbara and the rest of the cast respond to his heart attack. But it seems to hit hard at the end. When I finished, the book left me with a weight I wasn't fully aware was accumulating. It hung around, all of it.
-----------------------------------------------
46. Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone by James Baldwin
published: 1968
format: 484 page Vintage paperback
acquired: September
read: Sep 6 – Oct 3 (9 days reading, scattered)
time reading: 14 hr 3 min, 1.7 min/page
rating: 4½
October 24, 2020
And she’s right, I thought. There is nothing more to be said. All we can do now is just hold on. That was why she held my hand. I recognized this as love—recognized it very quietly and, for the first time, without fear. My life, that desperately treacherous labyrinth, seemed for a moment to be opening out behind me; a light seemed to fall where there had been no light before. I began to see myself in others. I began for a moment to apprehend how Christopher must sometimes have felt. Everyone wishes to be loved, but, in the event, nearly no one can bear it. Everyone desires love but also finds it impossible to believe that he deserves it. However great the private disasters to which love may lead, love itself is strikingly and mysteriously impersonal; it is a reality which is not altered by anything one does. Therefore, one does many things, turns the key in the lock over and over again, hoping to be locked out. Once locked out, one will never again be forced to encounter in the eyes of a stranger who loves him the impenetrable truth concerning the stranger, oneself, who is loved. And yet—one would prefer, after all, not to be locked out. One would prefer, merely, that the key unlocked a less stunningly unusual door.
*
I had not imagined that I could ever feel nostalgia for those years, or that I would ever, abruptly, bleakly, see in them, and in myself, a vanished, a blasphemed beauty, a beauty which I had never recognized and which I had, myself, destroyed. None of it had seemed beautiful then, myself least of all.
*
I had never been at home in the world and had become incapable of imagining that I ever would be. I did not want others to endure my estrangement, that was why I was on the platform; yet was it not, at the least, paradoxical that it was only my estrangement which had placed me there? And I could not flatten out this paradox, I could not hammer it into any usable shape. Everyone else desired to be at home in the world, and so did I—or so had I; and they were right in this desire, and so had I been; it was our privilege, to say nothing of our hope, to attempt to make the world a human dwellingplace for us all; and yet—yet—was it not possible that the mighty gentlemen, my honorable and invaluable confreres, by being unable to imagine such a journey as my own, were leaving something of the utmost importance out of their aspirations? I could not know.
*
We couldn’t make it and we couldn’t let it go—I had not known make-believe could be so painful, and, indeed, I now began to learn something about make-believe.
*
I don’t know what she was seeing as we looked out over the dark valley; but I did not see any future for us; I did not see any future for myself at all. Barbara was young and talented and pretty, and single-minded. There was nothing to prevent her from scaling the heights. Her eminence was but a matter of time. And what could she then do with her sad, dark lover, a boy trapped in the wrong time, the wrong place, and with the wrong ambitions trapped in the wrong skin?
*
The most subtle and perhaps the most deadly of alienations is that which is produced by the fear of being alienated. Because I was certain that Barbara could not stay with me, I dared not be committed to Barbara. This fear obscured a great many fears, but it obscured, above all, the question of whether or not I wished to be committed to Barbara, or to anyone else, and it hid the question of whether or not I was capable of commitment.
*
I knew that I had to make my way—somehow. No one could help me and I could not call for help. There was no way for me to know if the fear I sometimes felt when with Barbara, a fear which sometimes woke me in the middle of the night, which sometimes made me catch my breath when walking the streets at noon, was a personal fear, produced merely by the convolutions of my own personality, or a public fear, produced by the rage of others. I could not read my symptoms, for I loved her, I knew that, and loved her more than I loved anyone else. We were not always happy, but when I was happy with Barbara I was happier than I had ever been with anyone else. We were at ease with each other, as we were with no one else. And yet, I saw no future for us.
*
So much is lost; and what’s lost is lost forever. Was it destined to be lost, or could we have saved it?
*
One can live a long time without living: and we were both to discover this now.
*
“I think I do.” Then, “Do you think what we’ve become is so awful, Barbara?” “No. Oh, I don’t mean that. But it isn’t—is it?—exactly what we had in mind. I didn’t,” she said at last, “expect to become so lonely.” “Neither did I,” I said.
*
I had not imagined that I could ever feel nostalgia for those years, or that I would ever, abruptly, bleakly, see in them, and in myself, a vanished, a blasphemed beauty, a beauty which I had never recognized and which I had, myself, destroyed. None of it had seemed beautiful then, myself least of all.
*
I had never been at home in the world and had become incapable of imagining that I ever would be. I did not want others to endure my estrangement, that was why I was on the platform; yet was it not, at the least, paradoxical that it was only my estrangement which had placed me there? And I could not flatten out this paradox, I could not hammer it into any usable shape. Everyone else desired to be at home in the world, and so did I—or so had I; and they were right in this desire, and so had I been; it was our privilege, to say nothing of our hope, to attempt to make the world a human dwellingplace for us all; and yet—yet—was it not possible that the mighty gentlemen, my honorable and invaluable confreres, by being unable to imagine such a journey as my own, were leaving something of the utmost importance out of their aspirations? I could not know.
*
We couldn’t make it and we couldn’t let it go—I had not known make-believe could be so painful, and, indeed, I now began to learn something about make-believe.
*
I don’t know what she was seeing as we looked out over the dark valley; but I did not see any future for us; I did not see any future for myself at all. Barbara was young and talented and pretty, and single-minded. There was nothing to prevent her from scaling the heights. Her eminence was but a matter of time. And what could she then do with her sad, dark lover, a boy trapped in the wrong time, the wrong place, and with the wrong ambitions trapped in the wrong skin?
*
The most subtle and perhaps the most deadly of alienations is that which is produced by the fear of being alienated. Because I was certain that Barbara could not stay with me, I dared not be committed to Barbara. This fear obscured a great many fears, but it obscured, above all, the question of whether or not I wished to be committed to Barbara, or to anyone else, and it hid the question of whether or not I was capable of commitment.
*
I knew that I had to make my way—somehow. No one could help me and I could not call for help. There was no way for me to know if the fear I sometimes felt when with Barbara, a fear which sometimes woke me in the middle of the night, which sometimes made me catch my breath when walking the streets at noon, was a personal fear, produced merely by the convolutions of my own personality, or a public fear, produced by the rage of others. I could not read my symptoms, for I loved her, I knew that, and loved her more than I loved anyone else. We were not always happy, but when I was happy with Barbara I was happier than I had ever been with anyone else. We were at ease with each other, as we were with no one else. And yet, I saw no future for us.
*
So much is lost; and what’s lost is lost forever. Was it destined to be lost, or could we have saved it?
*
One can live a long time without living: and we were both to discover this now.
*
“I think I do.” Then, “Do you think what we’ve become is so awful, Barbara?” “No. Oh, I don’t mean that. But it isn’t—is it?—exactly what we had in mind. I didn’t,” she said at last, “expect to become so lonely.” “Neither did I,” I said.
Read
December 7, 2022For 30 pages, James Baldwin had me hooked: the description of actor Leo Proudhammer's heart attack, on stage, - told in his own words -, and what happens immediately after, is haunting and intriguing. But then a series of flashbacks starts that gradually clarify who Leo actually is and what has colored his life until then. Leo is an African American (raised in Harlem and scarred by poverty, segregation and discrimination) and, apparantly, he had an on-and-off relationship with Barbara, a privileged white person. After 100 pages Jerry appears in the story, also white, and clearly gay. But then the book has already degenerated into a succession of scenes, set in the actor's milieu, endless dialogues with no apparent connecting thread, and a Leo who is constantly analyzing himself.
I must confess that I gave up just before half way (so I won’t rate this). Baldwin had a superior style, no doubt, the social issues he addressed are highly relevant, and the evocation of how a special person (Leo in this case) deals with feelings and situations is intriguing. But in this book, he's drowned the storyline in too much meandering dialogues, mixed with introspection, like in an elongated, theatrical setting. No, this didn't resonate. I guess it's my bad, because I really love his Go Tell It on the Mountain and Giovanni's Room.
I must confess that I gave up just before half way (so I won’t rate this). Baldwin had a superior style, no doubt, the social issues he addressed are highly relevant, and the evocation of how a special person (Leo in this case) deals with feelings and situations is intriguing. But in this book, he's drowned the storyline in too much meandering dialogues, mixed with introspection, like in an elongated, theatrical setting. No, this didn't resonate. I guess it's my bad, because I really love his Go Tell It on the Mountain and Giovanni's Room.
July 29, 2017
Leo is a famous, black, bisexual stage actor who has just had a serious heart attack. As he is in the hospital he thinks back on episodes of his life, in non-chronological order. This structure made the writing a little choppy. I've been reading a lot of James Baldwin this year and this is the first book that I've felt was too long (by about 200 pages). I preferred the parts of the book that dealt with the theater, but the parts about Leo's childhood in Harlem felt like I'd read them before in other Baldwin books and a lot of the book was pretty boring. I thought that his love affairs were particularly uninteresting. I wouldn't recommend starting with this book if you are new to Baldwin's work. The narration by Kevin Kenerly of the audiobook was excellent.
October 25, 2017
I won’t bury the lede: Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone is one of my favorite works of 20th century literature; if you haven’t read it (or haven’t read Baldwin) you should consider that a gap worthy of being filled post haste. While not essential to one’s reading, I would recommend pairing this with The Fire Next Time, as there are numerous autobiographical details discussed in that book that directly contribute to moments in this book.
I’ve seen this book described as “experimental” (the descriptor pops up on wikipedia’s entry for Baldwin), which is almost entirely misleading. The novel is mostly told in retrospect – with the present-day action only taking up 2-3 days – but nothing about it is especially experimental. It is simply – I use the word facetiously – a stunning work of well crafted literature. There are large sections of the book that were so anguished, so crushing, that my chest hurt while reading them. But it is relenting in this overwhelmingness, and there are passages of grace and beauty that keep the balance in check.
Again, this is an indispensable work of literature; even here upon my second reading of it I’m still blown away by what Baldwin has achieved.
There was something very wonderful which Salvatore brought to the fore in Jerry. Jerry showed a side of himself to Salvatore which he showed to no one else. I think if l had never seen Jerry with Salvatore, I would never have known what pain and love were in the boy, could not have guessed how much he had lost already, and why it was possible for Barbara really to care about him. Salvatore treated Jerry like a son; and this brought forward the man in Jerry. It brought forward in him elements of delicacy and courtesy which Jerry, in most of his daily life disguised by rough speech and rough play. The lost and loving boy Jerry was attempting—helplessly—to divorce and deny was the only creature Salvatore saw, and it did not even occur to him to doubt the value of this creature. Salvatore could not know it, but he thus reached directly into the heart of Jerry’s loneliness, and also foreshadowed his hard and lonely life. When I watched Salvatore and Jerry together, I was happy for Jerry but I was sad for me. For the old, sturdy man recognized Jerry, he had seen him before. He found the key to Jerry in the life he himself had lived. But he had no key for me: my life, in effect, had not yet happened in anybody’s consciousness. And I did not know why. Sometimes, alone, I fled to the Negro part of town. Sometimes I got drunk there, and a couple of times I got laid there. But my connections all were broken.The writing in this book is exceptional. Baldwin has constructed a deeply intimate book, told through the first person narrative of Leo Proudhammer, that lays bare the anguish and bitterness of the early-20th-century African-American experience, and yet it doesn’t succumb to despair. This balancing act never feels forced or saccharine, and Baldwin’s detailed prose is constructed in such a way as to bear the brunt of this weight.
I’ve seen this book described as “experimental” (the descriptor pops up on wikipedia’s entry for Baldwin), which is almost entirely misleading. The novel is mostly told in retrospect – with the present-day action only taking up 2-3 days – but nothing about it is especially experimental. It is simply – I use the word facetiously – a stunning work of well crafted literature. There are large sections of the book that were so anguished, so crushing, that my chest hurt while reading them. But it is relenting in this overwhelmingness, and there are passages of grace and beauty that keep the balance in check.
Again, this is an indispensable work of literature; even here upon my second reading of it I’m still blown away by what Baldwin has achieved.
Some moments in a life, and they needn’t be very long or seem very important, can make up for so much in that life; can redeem, justify, that pain, that bewilderment, with which one lives, and invest one with the courage not only to endure it, but to profit from it; some moments teach one the price of the human connection: if one can live with one’s own pain, then one respects the pain of others, and so, briefly, but transcendentally, we can release each other from pain.
January 25, 2024
Reading protagonist actor Leo Proudhammer's beautifully rendered and angry meditation on race, incest, and sexually ambiguous and polyamorous relationships packed quite a wallop, and quite frankly shook me.
The novel shifts from Leo's brush with death after suffering a heart attack backstage during a performance; his life flashes before his eyes remembering the three people he loved most: His adored older brother, Caleb who is jailed and later becomes a preacher; his younger black lover Christopher and his white ex-girlfriend Barbara, whom is his closest confidante.
Baldwin writes of Leo and Caleb's incestuous affair with grace, dignity and grit; as well with hope that he one day might find happiness amidst the anger and desire to get out of the hopelessness that many young black men felt during the 1950s and 60s.
The novel shifts from Leo's brush with death after suffering a heart attack backstage during a performance; his life flashes before his eyes remembering the three people he loved most: His adored older brother, Caleb who is jailed and later becomes a preacher; his younger black lover Christopher and his white ex-girlfriend Barbara, whom is his closest confidante.
Baldwin writes of Leo and Caleb's incestuous affair with grace, dignity and grit; as well with hope that he one day might find happiness amidst the anger and desire to get out of the hopelessness that many young black men felt during the 1950s and 60s.
December 18, 2017
Jimmy leaves my jaw on the floor Everytime! There is no greater writer.
October 30, 2011
Baldwin, for me, is one of those writers who defines what their art is about. He is able to address a range of themes and emotions in a clear, unfussy style that makes his stories both a joy to behold and an experience to share. His characters live and breathe in ways to which we can all relate, and exist in worlds we recognise. It is this authenticity of description and experience that allows you to become so involved and invested in the stories and the journeys of his characters. That there is such a personal experience gained from - and a personal investment made in - stories created in another time and place is testament to Baldwin's skill.
Throughout the book, humanity sings out from every page, paragraph and word. Any anger that is in the book - and there is a lot - comes from a place of love and faith (in humanity) and not from hate or despair. Characters are scarred and affected by their environments, sure, but they are also able, to various degrees, to attempt to take control and influence their own outcomes. This positive approach allows us to share in the anger that an unjust world provokes, but also infuses the reader with a positivity that we, you and I can change, and allow ourselves to be changed, if we really care enough about the world we live in and our role within it.
Above all, you will be entertained and enjoy this book. On top of everything else, isn't that reason enough to give this book a try?
Throughout the book, humanity sings out from every page, paragraph and word. Any anger that is in the book - and there is a lot - comes from a place of love and faith (in humanity) and not from hate or despair. Characters are scarred and affected by their environments, sure, but they are also able, to various degrees, to attempt to take control and influence their own outcomes. This positive approach allows us to share in the anger that an unjust world provokes, but also infuses the reader with a positivity that we, you and I can change, and allow ourselves to be changed, if we really care enough about the world we live in and our role within it.
Above all, you will be entertained and enjoy this book. On top of everything else, isn't that reason enough to give this book a try?
October 24, 2023
Leo Proudhammer's recollection of his life exhibits James Baldwin's personal life:
- Institutional racism (any google-search of James will see him speak out on this topic)
- Incarceration as a means of preserving economic and racial inequality (James did a short time in jail before charges got dismissed)
- White privilege (James had many white friends so he 'knew'. James went to a predominantly white Jewish high school)
- Bisexuality and sexual exploration (James was OUT and quite proud)
- Impact of racism on military/civilian life in World War II (James was born '24, so teen as US entered WWII)
- Fundamentalist Christianity (James stepdad preached. James himself preached a little in early years)
- Homosexuality (James most assuredly gay)
- Racism (James was black and grew up in the 40's/50's/60's - need to say more?)
The release of this book in 1968 must have created quite the stir. The bisexuality and antiracism remarks in this book were simply part of Leo Proudhammer's life. There is no erotic sex scenes in this book, yet the rare, simple love-acts were interracial and/or homosexual. The scenes of racism were very real:
Here I was, in the country, and on a country road alone, facing two armed white [police]men who had legal sanction to kill me. And if killing me should prove to be an error, it would not matter very much. It would not for them be a serious error. It would not cost them their badges, or their pensions. The only people who would care about my death could certainly never reach them. I knew this.
I added this to my '_banned' shelf, since these topics surely made this book ultra-controversial in its day, and just regular-controversial now in 2023.
Baldwin writes strongly on all these topics as he adeptly weaves these themes into a proud black man's life. Young Leo Proudhammer told his older brother that he wanted to be an actor one day. He pursued it very successfully and with pride amidst a very racist time in history.
The conversations all feel like I am right in the room with these characters. I like the reality of the situations, both in what is said/described, and what is quietly left unsaid:
The theater began in the church. We [Leo and older brother Reverend Caleb] were both performers. That was how they saw us, brothers, and at war. They may have expected more from me than they did from him simply because my pulpit was so much harder to reach, and they [his parents] hadn't after all yet heard my sermon.
My only quibble was mapping the time-frame/ages of the character/story, since these were recollections of Leo. Leo suffers a heart-attack at age 40 in the opening scenes of the book. He was living in the fast lane, working hard, and this will force him to take a break. So the story jumps from Leo-now, to Leo-in-the-past at various points in his past.
This was an extremely well-read audio book that I listened to. I highly recommend this version. But any Baldwin hard-copy book is a sure joy too per the constant mental engagement of the reader to decipher true adult conversations. I like to read some YA books too, that all tend to tell you EXACTLY what you need to know/think, so Baldwin's writing style is refreshingly powerful.
Solid 5*
I think my next Baldwin book will need to be his biography:
James Baldwin: A Biography by David A. Leeming
- Institutional racism (any google-search of James will see him speak out on this topic)
- Incarceration as a means of preserving economic and racial inequality (James did a short time in jail before charges got dismissed)
- White privilege (James had many white friends so he 'knew'. James went to a predominantly white Jewish high school)
- Bisexuality and sexual exploration (James was OUT and quite proud)
- Impact of racism on military/civilian life in World War II (James was born '24, so teen as US entered WWII)
- Fundamentalist Christianity (James stepdad preached. James himself preached a little in early years)
- Homosexuality (James most assuredly gay)
- Racism (James was black and grew up in the 40's/50's/60's - need to say more?)
The release of this book in 1968 must have created quite the stir. The bisexuality and antiracism remarks in this book were simply part of Leo Proudhammer's life. There is no erotic sex scenes in this book, yet the rare, simple love-acts were interracial and/or homosexual. The scenes of racism were very real:
Here I was, in the country, and on a country road alone, facing two armed white [police]men who had legal sanction to kill me. And if killing me should prove to be an error, it would not matter very much. It would not for them be a serious error. It would not cost them their badges, or their pensions. The only people who would care about my death could certainly never reach them. I knew this.
I added this to my '_banned' shelf, since these topics surely made this book ultra-controversial in its day, and just regular-controversial now in 2023.
Baldwin writes strongly on all these topics as he adeptly weaves these themes into a proud black man's life. Young Leo Proudhammer told his older brother that he wanted to be an actor one day. He pursued it very successfully and with pride amidst a very racist time in history.
The conversations all feel like I am right in the room with these characters. I like the reality of the situations, both in what is said/described, and what is quietly left unsaid:
The theater began in the church. We [Leo and older brother Reverend Caleb] were both performers. That was how they saw us, brothers, and at war. They may have expected more from me than they did from him simply because my pulpit was so much harder to reach, and they [his parents] hadn't after all yet heard my sermon.
My only quibble was mapping the time-frame/ages of the character/story, since these were recollections of Leo. Leo suffers a heart-attack at age 40 in the opening scenes of the book. He was living in the fast lane, working hard, and this will force him to take a break. So the story jumps from Leo-now, to Leo-in-the-past at various points in his past.
This was an extremely well-read audio book that I listened to. I highly recommend this version. But any Baldwin hard-copy book is a sure joy too per the constant mental engagement of the reader to decipher true adult conversations. I like to read some YA books too, that all tend to tell you EXACTLY what you need to know/think, so Baldwin's writing style is refreshingly powerful.
Solid 5*
I think my next Baldwin book will need to be his biography:
James Baldwin: A Biography by David A. Leeming
February 16, 2021
I need more time to process. The tone is more obvious in its angrer and cynicism than all of his other novels (note: I haven't read Just Above My Head) and feels more in conversation with his scathing, no holds barred nonfiction. It's also very theatrical in style. This book is not for the impatient reader. If you haven't read Baldwin before, don't start with this one. This may not be my favorite Baldwin book, but it's great nonetheless. So much to process.
January 6, 2008
I picked up this book after a long period of reading either non-fiction or science fiction and fantasy. Its safe to say that i have fallen deeply in love with James Baldwin and I have been brought back safely to novel-land. In this lesser known work, Baldwin demonstrates his skillful use language, and his deep understanding of the human condition in the racist, sexist, heteronormative, capitalist United States. This book will truly move your heart and mind, and push you grapple with your own contradictions...READ IT.
July 28, 2020
This almost-500-page novel is a surprisingly quick read. Upon starting it, I soon found myself pulled in. (I basically only put it down occasionally to catch my breath.) It was almost as though Baldwin had, early on, said "I've got something you need to hear."
'Tell Me...' begins with a heart attack - which black, bisexual actor Leo Proudhammer is having onstage. The event will be what causes the actor to reflect on his life as he begins his road to recovery. Beginning as it did in Depression-era Harlem, it was a life defined and governed by racism - a reality which, of course, follows Proudhammer into adulthood.
As a kid, Leo is witness to many home conversations about whites, i.e., the one in which his mother encourages his older brother Caleb to rise above - because blacks are "just as good" as whites:
Racism (sometimes mild but more often plain-as-day and savage) more or less saturates this novel. Leo is also aware when it's camouflaged:
The reader will note how much of this novel reflects the unenlightened avenues of the period (the '30s-'60s) - while being simultaneously aware of the degree to which racism is shamefully still very much with us.
There is considerable harshness in this work, but there is also considerable joy: often in the depiction of Leo's parents; apparent in the bonds established with some of Leo's closest friends (both black and white); flowing in the fraternal relationship Leo has with Caleb - one that goes from physical intimacy to guarded devotion years later, once Caleb becomes a minister. (In a long monologue during a long-delayed reunion with Leo, Caleb reveals himself with heart-wrenching incisiveness as he relates his experiences in Italy during WWII.)
While the book displays marvelous observational skill (Baldwin is particularly accurate in his portrait of the theater and its denizens), this is primarily a study in self-exploration:
Ultimately, Leo's emotional salvation rests with two characters: Barbara, a white woman from Kentucky and fellow actor, devoted to Leo through thick-and-thin; and Christopher, a black man of a younger, more ideologically militant generation, who - in the time of his recovery - becomes Leo's bodyguard and lover.
This is a stirring work, with a fullness of spirit and a generosity of wisdom.
'Tell Me...' begins with a heart attack - which black, bisexual actor Leo Proudhammer is having onstage. The event will be what causes the actor to reflect on his life as he begins his road to recovery. Beginning as it did in Depression-era Harlem, it was a life defined and governed by racism - a reality which, of course, follows Proudhammer into adulthood.
As a kid, Leo is witness to many home conversations about whites, i.e., the one in which his mother encourages his older brother Caleb to rise above - because blacks are "just as good" as whites:
Caleb laughed. He mimicked her. "Just as good! Just as good as who -- them people who beat my ass and called me nigger and made me eat shit and wallow in the dirt like a dog? Just as good as them? Is that what you want for me? I'd like to see every single one of them in their graves--in their graves, Mama, that's right. And I wouldn't be a white man for all the coals in hell."
Racism (sometimes mild but more often plain-as-day and savage) more or less saturates this novel. Leo is also aware when it's camouflaged:
Americans are always lying to themselves about that kinsman they call the Negro, and they are always lying to him, and I had grown accustomed to the tone which sought your complicity in the unadmitted crime.
The reader will note how much of this novel reflects the unenlightened avenues of the period (the '30s-'60s) - while being simultaneously aware of the degree to which racism is shamefully still very much with us.
There is considerable harshness in this work, but there is also considerable joy: often in the depiction of Leo's parents; apparent in the bonds established with some of Leo's closest friends (both black and white); flowing in the fraternal relationship Leo has with Caleb - one that goes from physical intimacy to guarded devotion years later, once Caleb becomes a minister. (In a long monologue during a long-delayed reunion with Leo, Caleb reveals himself with heart-wrenching incisiveness as he relates his experiences in Italy during WWII.)
While the book displays marvelous observational skill (Baldwin is particularly accurate in his portrait of the theater and its denizens), this is primarily a study in self-exploration:
It's painful, sometimes, to look back on a life and wonder if anything you did could have made any difference. So much is lost; and what's lost is lost forever. Was it destined to be lost, or could we have saved it?
Ultimately, Leo's emotional salvation rests with two characters: Barbara, a white woman from Kentucky and fellow actor, devoted to Leo through thick-and-thin; and Christopher, a black man of a younger, more ideologically militant generation, who - in the time of his recovery - becomes Leo's bodyguard and lover.
This is a stirring work, with a fullness of spirit and a generosity of wisdom.
September 13, 2021
Baldwin’s long soliloquy here has the gravity and authority of nothing less than God. And that ain’t bullshit.
December 20, 2023
Hundert Jahre Freiheit ohne Gleichberechtigung ist der Titel eines Sachbuches von James Baldwin aus der Zeit der Bürgerrechtsbewegung. Vermutlich nimmt er in diesem Diskurs eine bedeutende Rolle ein, sicher auch in der Chronologie der Literatur der Amerikaner mit afrikanischen Wurzeln. Wenn sich etwas positives über dieses Buch sagen lässt, dann, dass es sich wohl um einen Versuch handelt, die seinerzeit bestehende Ungleichheit in Romanform zu verarbeiten.
Hatte mir das Buch sozusagen als Roots 100 Jahre später auf die Leseliste gesetzt, denn Alex Haileys Familiensaga entwickelt sich nach der Aufhebung der Sklaverei zu einem ziemlich dünnen Erzählstrom. Die Plotline klingt auch ziemlich interessant: Eine Art Sidney Poitier oder Sammy Davis Junior erleidet auf der Bühne einen Herzanfall und lässt sein Leben Revue passieren. Als Mann steht er zwischen seiner weißen Dauergeliebten und seinem schwarzen Lover, der zu den Waffen greifen will, um der Diskriminierung ein Ende zu machen.
Stoff für ein großartiges Buch, seinen Anspruch als Erzähler will Baldwin mit einer dreisträhnigen Erzählstruktur unter Beweis stellen. Deshalb folgt auf einen längeren Erzählstrang mit Leo Proudhammers Infarkt- und Genesungsgegegenwart, ein Abschnitt aus
seinem Elendsbildungsroman aus Harlem oder den Jahren vor seinem Durchbruch, in dem sich sein verhängnisvolles Verhältnis zu Barbara entwickelt, eine von Rassismus und persönlichen Defiziten belastete Daueraffäre, bei der sich beide den Wunsch nach Nachwuchs versagen müssen.
Die Liebe zum Black Panther Christopher ist durch familiäre Wurzeln geprägt, denn der junge Liebhaber erinnert an den stolzen Vater, Leos Verhältnis zum später fromm gewordenen Bruder Caleb trägt stark homoerotische Züge. Zuletzt muss Rekonvaleszent Leo aber auch erleben, wie sich Barbara über eine Affäre mit Christopher den jungen Leo zurück ins Bett holen will. Der von ihr initiierte Beginn der Affäre für den sie ihren Italian Stallion kickt, ist eine Eifersuchtsreaktion, sie will ihren bislang nur als Seelenfreund genutzten Leo nicht an die Hauptdarstellerin verlieren und setzt damit Prozesse in Gang, die beiden das Leben unglaublich schwer machen.
Das klingt alles so weit ganz gut, allerdings fehlt James Baldwin jegliches Gespür für erzählerische Balance oder Relevanz, zwar gibt es Sätze zum Einrahmen oder immer wieder Abschnitte bei denen man hofft, dass das Buch vielleicht doch noch die Kurve kriegt*, aber alles in allem entsteht der Eindruck, einmal hingeschrieben und nie mehr im Kontext gelesen. So nimmt Leo Entlassung aus dem Krankenhaus zwanzig überaus geschwätzige Seiten ein, sein Verhältnis als Teenie mit einem schwulen Gangster als neuem Beschützer eine halbe Seite, seine Leiden als Schauspieler, der keine Chance bekommt, übersteigen ein Drittel des Buches, sein Durchbruch bekommt zehn Seiten, in die auch noch der Tod der Mutter eingearbeitet ist.
Insofern gerät das Ganze zu einer ziemlich zusammenhanglosen Jeremiade, in der wenig erbaulicher Sex mit Angehörigen beider Rassen und beiderlei Geschlechts vielleicht als Kitt dienen soll. Mein zweiter Baldwin nach dem verheißungsvoll gestarteten und in der Hälfte jämmerlich zusammengeklappten und lustlos zu Ende gebrachten Beale Street Blues, mit dem er viele Klischees teilt, etwa die immer wieder angestimmten Arien auf das Recht der armen unterprivilegieten Schwarzen, jedem Weißen/Juden alles zu klauen, was sich unter den Nagel reißen lässt.
Vermutlich ist der Zug für James Baldwin bei mir abgefahren. Another Country, das ich erst als möglicherweise gelungeneren Vorgänger ins Visier genommen habe, krankt anscheinend an denselben erzähltechnischen Leiden. Als Romancier ist Baldwin ein kläglicher Versager, weil ihm die Hand für das Große Ganze abgeht, das wird erst deutlich, wenn man die aus demselben Zeitraum stammenden Bekenntnisse des Nat Turner zum Vergleich nimmt. Styrons Autoren-DNA samt dem Verklemmungsgrad ist zwar allzu unverkennbar, aber das Buch aus Sicht des Anführers des einzigen Sklavenaufstandes in den Vereinigten Staaten ist absolut sauber komponiert und psychologisch so weit stimmig. Bei Baldwins Jeremiade hatte ich immer wieder das Gefühl, er hätte demütigende Erfahrungen aus unterschiedlichen Quellen einfach zusammen gemixt, um ein zeitgemäßes Nachfolgebuch zu Another Country nachschieben zu können.
* z.B Die Gästechronik mit den zur persönlichen Katastrophe geratenen Künsterschicksalen aus dem Village-Lokal, in dem Leo kellnert und Calypso spielt oder Calebs Erweckungserlebnis.
Hatte mir das Buch sozusagen als Roots 100 Jahre später auf die Leseliste gesetzt, denn Alex Haileys Familiensaga entwickelt sich nach der Aufhebung der Sklaverei zu einem ziemlich dünnen Erzählstrom. Die Plotline klingt auch ziemlich interessant: Eine Art Sidney Poitier oder Sammy Davis Junior erleidet auf der Bühne einen Herzanfall und lässt sein Leben Revue passieren. Als Mann steht er zwischen seiner weißen Dauergeliebten und seinem schwarzen Lover, der zu den Waffen greifen will, um der Diskriminierung ein Ende zu machen.
Stoff für ein großartiges Buch, seinen Anspruch als Erzähler will Baldwin mit einer dreisträhnigen Erzählstruktur unter Beweis stellen. Deshalb folgt auf einen längeren Erzählstrang mit Leo Proudhammers Infarkt- und Genesungsgegegenwart, ein Abschnitt aus
seinem Elendsbildungsroman aus Harlem oder den Jahren vor seinem Durchbruch, in dem sich sein verhängnisvolles Verhältnis zu Barbara entwickelt, eine von Rassismus und persönlichen Defiziten belastete Daueraffäre, bei der sich beide den Wunsch nach Nachwuchs versagen müssen.
Die Liebe zum Black Panther Christopher ist durch familiäre Wurzeln geprägt, denn der junge Liebhaber erinnert an den stolzen Vater, Leos Verhältnis zum später fromm gewordenen Bruder Caleb trägt stark homoerotische Züge. Zuletzt muss Rekonvaleszent Leo aber auch erleben, wie sich Barbara über eine Affäre mit Christopher den jungen Leo zurück ins Bett holen will. Der von ihr initiierte Beginn der Affäre für den sie ihren Italian Stallion kickt, ist eine Eifersuchtsreaktion, sie will ihren bislang nur als Seelenfreund genutzten Leo nicht an die Hauptdarstellerin verlieren und setzt damit Prozesse in Gang, die beiden das Leben unglaublich schwer machen.
Das klingt alles so weit ganz gut, allerdings fehlt James Baldwin jegliches Gespür für erzählerische Balance oder Relevanz, zwar gibt es Sätze zum Einrahmen oder immer wieder Abschnitte bei denen man hofft, dass das Buch vielleicht doch noch die Kurve kriegt*, aber alles in allem entsteht der Eindruck, einmal hingeschrieben und nie mehr im Kontext gelesen. So nimmt Leo Entlassung aus dem Krankenhaus zwanzig überaus geschwätzige Seiten ein, sein Verhältnis als Teenie mit einem schwulen Gangster als neuem Beschützer eine halbe Seite, seine Leiden als Schauspieler, der keine Chance bekommt, übersteigen ein Drittel des Buches, sein Durchbruch bekommt zehn Seiten, in die auch noch der Tod der Mutter eingearbeitet ist.
Insofern gerät das Ganze zu einer ziemlich zusammenhanglosen Jeremiade, in der wenig erbaulicher Sex mit Angehörigen beider Rassen und beiderlei Geschlechts vielleicht als Kitt dienen soll. Mein zweiter Baldwin nach dem verheißungsvoll gestarteten und in der Hälfte jämmerlich zusammengeklappten und lustlos zu Ende gebrachten Beale Street Blues, mit dem er viele Klischees teilt, etwa die immer wieder angestimmten Arien auf das Recht der armen unterprivilegieten Schwarzen, jedem Weißen/Juden alles zu klauen, was sich unter den Nagel reißen lässt.
Vermutlich ist der Zug für James Baldwin bei mir abgefahren. Another Country, das ich erst als möglicherweise gelungeneren Vorgänger ins Visier genommen habe, krankt anscheinend an denselben erzähltechnischen Leiden. Als Romancier ist Baldwin ein kläglicher Versager, weil ihm die Hand für das Große Ganze abgeht, das wird erst deutlich, wenn man die aus demselben Zeitraum stammenden Bekenntnisse des Nat Turner zum Vergleich nimmt. Styrons Autoren-DNA samt dem Verklemmungsgrad ist zwar allzu unverkennbar, aber das Buch aus Sicht des Anführers des einzigen Sklavenaufstandes in den Vereinigten Staaten ist absolut sauber komponiert und psychologisch so weit stimmig. Bei Baldwins Jeremiade hatte ich immer wieder das Gefühl, er hätte demütigende Erfahrungen aus unterschiedlichen Quellen einfach zusammen gemixt, um ein zeitgemäßes Nachfolgebuch zu Another Country nachschieben zu können.
* z.B Die Gästechronik mit den zur persönlichen Katastrophe geratenen Künsterschicksalen aus dem Village-Lokal, in dem Leo kellnert und Calypso spielt oder Calebs Erweckungserlebnis.
May 16, 2024
This was my first time reading Baldwin and I don't think I was prepared for the storm that is Baldwin's writing.
The book follows Leo Proudhammer's life who is currently a successful African American actor and the path it took for him to get there.
I would describe his writing as introspective, intense and raw. Each sentence is so charged and packed with so much meaning. His ability to capture human emotions accurately is outstanding and is some of the best writing I've ever seen. He also articulates issues facing African-Americans at the time, very well with Leo's character as well as with his family.
He started off strong but I felt the ending was a bit abrupt and anti-climatic. You know that excitement you feel when you finish a book, I didn't feel it with this book.
No doubt Baldwin is a brilliant writer and I can't wait to read his other books.
The book follows Leo Proudhammer's life who is currently a successful African American actor and the path it took for him to get there.
I would describe his writing as introspective, intense and raw. Each sentence is so charged and packed with so much meaning. His ability to capture human emotions accurately is outstanding and is some of the best writing I've ever seen. He also articulates issues facing African-Americans at the time, very well with Leo's character as well as with his family.
He started off strong but I felt the ending was a bit abrupt and anti-climatic. You know that excitement you feel when you finish a book, I didn't feel it with this book.
No doubt Baldwin is a brilliant writer and I can't wait to read his other books.
March 18, 2024
Un acteur noir de 40 ans dans les Etats Unis des années 60 nous raconte ses souvenirs depuis son lit de convalescence à la suite d'une crise cardiaque.
Des fulgurances, peu de rythme, de l'engagement. J'en n'attendais pas beaucoup plus. J'ai trouvé le texte très subtil, peut être un peu trop parfois, si bien qu'il était difficile de voir où voulait en venir l'auteur.
Quoiqu'il en soit, c'était une très bonne lecture immersive et impactante (et j'ai la flemme d'écrire plus sur ce roman.)
Des fulgurances, peu de rythme, de l'engagement. J'en n'attendais pas beaucoup plus. J'ai trouvé le texte très subtil, peut être un peu trop parfois, si bien qu'il était difficile de voir où voulait en venir l'auteur.
Quoiqu'il en soit, c'était une très bonne lecture immersive et impactante (et j'ai la flemme d'écrire plus sur ce roman.)
July 17, 2023
The plotting is a bit patchwork at times and the ending felt abrupt but Baldwin’s prose is so gloriously voluptuously alive it’s impossible to reckon any of his works less than a masterpiece. The narrator, Leo Proudhammer, a famous Black actor, has marvelous depth and is a spellbinding monologist.
July 16, 2022
I absolutely loved this book!
Whenever you enter Baldwin’s world, you will experience a ride that is gritty, honest and life changing!
Whenever you enter Baldwin’s world, you will experience a ride that is gritty, honest and life changing!
March 7, 2024
“Some moments in a life, and they needn’t be very long or seem very important, can make up for so much in that life; can redeem, justify, that pain, that bewilderment, with which one lives, and invest one with the courage not only to endure it, but to profit from it; some moments teach one the price of the human connection: if one can live with one’s own pain, then one respects the pain of others, and so, briefly, but transcendentally, we can release each other from pain.” ❤️❤️❤️❤️
November 15, 2008
The back of this book makes it out to be the life story of a black actor who rises to greatness, but is "torn between two different kinds of love". I don't think Baldwin makes as big a deal as all that about the fact that the character, Leo, has one lover who is a woman his age and one who is a man much younger than he is. The woman, Barbara, is white and that is a big deal. But that doesn't affect their feelings about each other nearly as much as it affects their ability to be together in society. The fact that she and he are both famous actors affects their love story about as much as their racial difference.
Anyway, Baldwin writes subtle characters, and astute political commentary that is not subtle but still doesn't feel heavy-handed or awkwardly inserted. These are things I like in an author. But the structure of this book feels very Hollywood to me (a man recovering from a heart attack reflects on his whole life and the loves therein), and that leaves me cold in a way I can't justify.
Anyway, Baldwin writes subtle characters, and astute political commentary that is not subtle but still doesn't feel heavy-handed or awkwardly inserted. These are things I like in an author. But the structure of this book feels very Hollywood to me (a man recovering from a heart attack reflects on his whole life and the loves therein), and that leaves me cold in a way I can't justify.
February 24, 2023
i wish i could express with words what i felt while reading this. the way this man writes is painful, powerful and so, so beautiful.
March 14, 2024
Un bon roman qui aborde de nombreux sujets intéressants (le racisme, l'homosexualité, la réussite...) avec délicatesse et sans pathos. Même si je revenais dans mon livre avec plaisir, cette introspection personnelle sur plus de 500 pages m'a parfois ennuyé.
May 9, 2024
I think it’s impossible to not love something Baldwin has written. His words breathe life into people and places, and his pearls of wisdom lean toward the divine. These characters feel more than alive, they feel lived in. The fabric of the worlds crafted in Baldwin’s stories showcase the unique way in which he views society, and does so with lasting importance.
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“Everyone wishes to be loved, but, in the event, nearly no one can bear it. Everyone desires love but also finds it impossible to believe that he deserves it. However great the private disasters to which love may lead, love itself is strikingly and mysteriously impersonal; it is a reality which is not altered by anything one does.”
“She was brilliantly and brutally manufactured: she had not grown into her present shape, but had been hammered into it, or perhaps, as in some unspeakable vat, been lowered.”
“How could I hope for, how could I deserve, my liberation, if I became my own jailer and myself turned the key which locked the mighty doors? But my rage was there, it was there, it pretended to sleep but it never slept, the merest touch of a feather was enough to bring it howling, roaring out. It had no sight, no measure, no precision, and no justice: and it was my master still.”
“His voice stopped: his silence created a great wound in the universe. There was nothing for me to say: nothing. I held him, held what there was to hold. I held him. Because I could love, I realized I could hate. And I realized that I would feed my hatred, feed it every day and every hour. I would keep it healthy, I would make it strong, and I would find a use for it one day.”
“This was America, America, America, and those people out there, my countrymen, had been tearing me limb from limb, like dogs, for centuries. I would not be the first. In the bloody event, I would not be the last.”
“Some moments in a life, and they needn’t be very long or seem very important, can make up for so much in that life; can redeem, justify, that pain, that bewilderment, with which one lives, and invest one with the courage not only to endure it, but to profit from it; some moments teach one the price of the human connection: if one can live with one’s own pain, then one respects the pain of others, and so, briefly, but transcendentally, we can release each other from pain.”
“I would never be able to leave this country. I could only leave it briefly, like a drowning man coming up for air.”
“I felt that he wanted to cry. I sensed tears somewhere in him, dammed up, drying fast. I wished I could have reached out and stroked the place where the tears were hidden; stroked the place and probed it and let the blood-red, salty tears come out. There is a fountain filled with blood.”
———————————————————————————
“Everyone wishes to be loved, but, in the event, nearly no one can bear it. Everyone desires love but also finds it impossible to believe that he deserves it. However great the private disasters to which love may lead, love itself is strikingly and mysteriously impersonal; it is a reality which is not altered by anything one does.”
“She was brilliantly and brutally manufactured: she had not grown into her present shape, but had been hammered into it, or perhaps, as in some unspeakable vat, been lowered.”
“How could I hope for, how could I deserve, my liberation, if I became my own jailer and myself turned the key which locked the mighty doors? But my rage was there, it was there, it pretended to sleep but it never slept, the merest touch of a feather was enough to bring it howling, roaring out. It had no sight, no measure, no precision, and no justice: and it was my master still.”
“His voice stopped: his silence created a great wound in the universe. There was nothing for me to say: nothing. I held him, held what there was to hold. I held him. Because I could love, I realized I could hate. And I realized that I would feed my hatred, feed it every day and every hour. I would keep it healthy, I would make it strong, and I would find a use for it one day.”
“This was America, America, America, and those people out there, my countrymen, had been tearing me limb from limb, like dogs, for centuries. I would not be the first. In the bloody event, I would not be the last.”
“Some moments in a life, and they needn’t be very long or seem very important, can make up for so much in that life; can redeem, justify, that pain, that bewilderment, with which one lives, and invest one with the courage not only to endure it, but to profit from it; some moments teach one the price of the human connection: if one can live with one’s own pain, then one respects the pain of others, and so, briefly, but transcendentally, we can release each other from pain.”
“I would never be able to leave this country. I could only leave it briefly, like a drowning man coming up for air.”
“I felt that he wanted to cry. I sensed tears somewhere in him, dammed up, drying fast. I wished I could have reached out and stroked the place where the tears were hidden; stroked the place and probed it and let the blood-red, salty tears come out. There is a fountain filled with blood.”
March 15, 2013
Not my favorite James Baldwin, but still highly engaging. Engaging enough to read all 484 pages in 8 days during the school year. They publishers market this book with Leo Proudhammer's two love affairs, one with a white woman and the other with a younger, gay Black man post WW2. The latter isn't mentioned until the last 30 pages. The former love affair left out too many details. I appreciated Proudhammer's strong sense of identity, never seeming to doubt himself nor whom he loved as a Black, bisexual man during the 1940's. Yet, both of his lovers seem to do all the critical talking about race. I was most engaged reading Baldwin's portrait of this biracial couple at one point living up in upstate NY and seeing others' reactions which made me think about my own relationship and how difficult it would have been 60 years ago. Proudhammer's an interesting character. There is an sexual relationship with his older brother that is touched upon but never explored. Similarly, the relationships with Barbara and Christopher aren't fully developed and had me inferring. Baldwin ends with a lovely tribute to San Francisco, but the ending is just as abrupt as other parts of the book.
June 7, 2021
Tell Me How Long the Train's Been Gone is a touching exploration of what it means to be black and bisexual and a man and searching for your purpose in America. It is a book that is as important for us to read now as it was in 1968. Try not to get too dispirited by this fact. In true Baldwin style, the writing is fiercely passionate and at times I felt as if I was reading one of his essays. It is a book that is angry and tender and also hopeful. I am not sure if it would be my recommendation as someone's first exposure to Baldwin, but it is certainly a book that we can all learn something from.
Full review on the blog: https://lettersoflydia.wordpress.com/...
Full review on the blog: https://lettersoflydia.wordpress.com/...
February 21, 2020
I finished this book late last night. It's definitely not an easy book to read and I will need to recover with lighter books for some time. Got to gather my thoughts but this is probably one of the greatest novels ever written. Some reviewers say it's not as polished as other JB novels but the energy in this one is palpable. No novel has made me laugh so genuinely or feel such anguish. I really feel like a new person, transformed, having read it.
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