Up until this year, I didn’t have a favorite writer and that bothered me. How can I be a great writer, if I didn’t have a favorite writer, a mentor of sorts. Now I know that it isn’t necessary but it was important to me. I came close to having one. Franz Kafka. He was the only writers work that I truly admired from more than just a literary standpoint. His work moved me in a way that I didn’t think was possible. The Metamorphosis changed my entire approach and outlook on writing. The way he expressed his purpose through symbolism and multiple meanings and layers through very simple thoughts that were equally as complicated as its meaning. I have never seen anything like it but I needed something more. And I would soon find it.
I don’t exactly remember how I was introduced the work of James Baldwin but I do remember spending hours upon hours sitting at my computer watching his debates, interviews and lectures. The man was a phenomenal force. I could not wait to get my hands on his written work. The next day I rushed over to the library on campus on to find that most of his books were checked out. I was disappointed to say the least. I did find one book, If Beale Street could talk. It was amazing I could hardly peel myself away from it. I went onto read Giovanni’s Room and The Fire Next Time. Baldwin was the literary spirit guide that I had always hoped for. Though the conditions he wrote about have altered over time, the same situations are still prevalent in today’s society. I can fully relate to that. Baldwin was so articulate and brave. He stood up to adversity and lived life on his own terms. If I can be half the person he was, I would be content. He made me feel proud to be black and for one of the first times in my life not be afraid to express my intelligence to any and everyone. The reason I am going on this rant is because I came across on this article from New Yorker’s archives today on lunch break and I wanted to share it with you. Enjoy.
Baldwin’s “American Dream and American Negro” Speech
Until next time,
Shanise R.
Life told through a clouded pen 