Professor Amy Hungerford points out in her Open Yale lectures:http://academicearth.org/lectures/ame...that there is a certain amount of well-founded doubt as to the absolute accuracy of this work as an autobiography. Wright, however, does not claim this as his life, but rather as a Record of Youth and Childhood, the tale of a Black Boy growing up in the Southern States between the two World Wars. Thus a generic life. There can be no doubt whatsoever about its emotional authenticity. I read this with a kind of ghastly horrified fascination, thinking only what a dreadful time and place for an intelligent young black man to be alive.As a boy, Richard is routinely, relentlessly, habitually beaten: by his mother and his grandmother, and later the same kind of treatment is attempted by an uncle and an aunt. But this is no mawkish misery memoir of the kind that seemed to dominate the bestseller lists for a while, spawning a whole spate of copycat accounts of dubious provenance, this is not the 'uplifting' tale of one person's triumph over adversity. No, this is generic: that kind of upbringing was the best-intentioned attempt by Richard's family to beat out of him a characteristic that might prove fatal to a black man living under the Jim Crow statutes: a sense of self-worth. An attitude that the whites might perceive to be sassy. Richard is beaten for being lippy, for talking back, for claiming that there is a version of the truth that he sees and that may be at odds with the truth of authority. All untenable, dangerous positions for a black man to take. His mother and grandmother know the only way for a black man to survive: by turning into a childish buffoon or a servile idiot, the roles expected by that white culture that surrounds them. They recognize, too, the danger that a rebellious young man may find the only outlet for his aspirations the creativity of crime, how best to cheat and steal, and they take refuge in exaggerated religiosity that offers rules but no comfort. Certainly Richard can find nothing for himself there.Prof. Hungerford also tells the publication history of this work: it was originally one third longer than the version I read, was written in two parts. "Southern Night" is basically what we have here, and "The Horror and the Glory", which follows Richard after he moved to Chicago in 1927, at the age of nineteen. At the time of its publication in 1944, the Book of the Month Club is a hugely influential marketing tool, and their board decides that they don't want the second section at all, and in fact that is what Richard Wright agrees to. But what difference does this make? Well, any novel of this kind can be seen as a Bildungsroman, the story of a youth and his development to manhood. The point is that manhood cannot be attained in that place at that time. Richard needs a second childhood in Chicago in order to attain that state of autonomous, thinking individual whose opinion is sought and valued. In Jackson, even in Memphis (more urban) he is required to remain a child in order to survive. His first venture into the white world of work illustrates this clearly:"'Do you want this job?' the woman asked.'Yes, ma'am,' I said, afraid to trust my own judgement.'Now, boy, I want to ask you one question and I want you to tell me the truth,' she said.'Yes, ma'am,' I said, all attention.'Do you steal?' she asked me seriously.I burst into a laugh and then checked myself.'What's so damn funny about that?' she asked.'Lady, if I was a thief, I'd never tell anybody.'" (p 145)Richard realises his mistake immediately: he has recognized the naivety of the question, has betrayed his shock at an attitude of mind that will not even allow him the subtlety of intellect to see the possibility of telling a self-serving untruth when necessary. He sees that white people want to keep him and other black men 'in their place': and their place is that of a subservient child, or even an animal-like plaything for the amusement of the whites. He has to get out of the South, not only because his ego is in danger of going under, but, as is constantly brought home, he is in mortal danger. Lynchings are part of his reality.How does he survive, how does he manage to emerge from this? Stories. First reading, initially escapist fantasies, and then also writing. Then later, through a subterfuge with a library ticket, as he is not allowed to borrow from the library himself, he reads voraciously, finding that it was out of 'the emotional impact of imaginative construction of heroic or tragic deeds, that I felt touching my face a tinge of warmth from an unseen light; and in my leaving I was groping toward that invisible light, always trying to keep my face so set and turned that I would not lose the hope of its faint promise, using it as my justification for action.' (p.260-261) The aspirational power of literature is what saves him: it offers him the idea of another world, a world that he, too, can be part of.
I chose to read Black Boy specifically as a follow up to Gone With the Wind. In GWtW, I noticed in spots the narrator revealed a certain attitude, a perspective toward blacks that, while (I assumed) honest and sincere, struck me as prejudiced, even perhaps contemptuous at times. Within this perspective was an assumption that the narrator—3rd person limited—knew what blacks, including freed slaves, thought and felt. To be fair, this perspective also included a sincere (but conditional) love and loyalty toward those blacks that had long term relationships with the main characters.I couldn’t help but wonder, though, if the narrator represented Margaret Mitchell’s perspective or strictly the perspective of someone from the 1860s, both pre- and post-Civil War.So I was curious what Richard Wright’s perspective would be. Granted, Wright writes about the Mississippi South (and Memphis and Arkansas) from around World War I through the 1920s, the Jim Crow South. But the attitudes of whites seems not to have changed much since Scarlett O'Hara's time: Negros are still expected to live and behave according to an unwritten code, always saying ma’am and mister, presenting a timid and obsequious demeanor, and they are expected not to attempt advancing in life financially or socially; while education is somewhat accepted for blacks, it comes with clear limits—severe limits. Any Negro who dares buy into the American dream of making something of himself or herself (besides employment in the service sector) is in danger of being persecuted, blackballed, beaten, or killed. (A few decades later, we find this attitude—that is, the refusal to acknowledge ability and giftedness in blacks as well as a stubborn and hateful resistance to permitting any opportunities for blacks—is still prevalent in the South in Dr. Henry Louis Gates, Jr.’s essay, “A Giant Step.”) Almighty God. What slow steps we have taken. The assumption in GWtW is that the box described above is where Negros belong—and that this restrictive box is where they want to be. There is a complacent tone of I-told-you-so when free blacks attempt life on their own and end up begging for charity or wanting to return to their previous masters, who, it is suggested, they desire to serve again out of love and loyalty.In some situations, perhaps this scenario has some element of truth to it, but I will emphatically argue against any claim that suggests this reality is anything other than the result of the power structure fought for and maintained by white southerners—and northerners for that matter, though in the north white power appears in a slightly different incarnation.The end of slavery did not result in “freedom” for blacks because it did not result in blacks having choices. As in my review of Catching Fire, I’d like to once again point out that resistance by its very nature demands that we choose choices not offered to us. The choices offered to us—and freed blacks are a clear example—are intended only for the benefit of those in power. The choices offered are between this kind of slavery and that kind of slavery. Richard Wright is accused of being white (despite the fact that, according to his friend, he is “black, black, black”) because he behaves as if he should have the same opportunities as anyone else—that is, any white person. “You tryin’ to get smart, N—? ” is the response he gets from whites whenever he wants to learn something. His people are so repressed that this same attitude is expressed to him within his own black community. For example, when he is named valedictorian of his ninth grade class and told he will be asked to give a speech, the principal, a black man, writes a speech and tells Wright this is the speech he must give. Wright says, No, he has written his own speech, and it is the one he will deliver. The principal threatens to withhold his graduation.Wright chooses a choice not offered to him, and in this way (and many others) he is a hero. I read Black Boy longing for one single white person to be kind to him, and each time, regardless of how a person first presented themselves, eventually they would say to him, “What are you trying to do?”I was left longing for even a member of his own family to be kind to him. Only his mother ever showed him any kindness. And so, my goal in reading Black Boy was accomplished in a disturbing way—it is hard to know what to do with the anger that rises when reading some of these scenes. I can’t help but be aware of how segregated our country still is, how instinctual it remains to keep our distance and be aware only of our differences, and to think how crippling this is to our capacity and opportunity for compassion. May God have mercy on us.
What do You think about Black Boy (1998)?
During some sort of standardized test in high school one of our reading comprehension sections included a section of this book. It was the section where young Richard Wright (living in Alabama?) wanted to read libraby books, but couldn't check books out of the library because he was black. Wright went to the one person in the office where he worked as a janitor who might be sympathetic--because the man was Catholic and also suffered from slights from the other white Southerners. Wright had to ask this man to check out books from the library for him. It was the only way he could use the library. Being an inveterte bookworm myself, I was horrified at the idea of not being able to check books out of the library. (Okay, so I was sheltered, but consider that when my parents wanted to punish me for doing something awful, rather than ground me they would take away my books.) I knew I had to read the biography of a man who would risk so much to read books.
—Kris
By the second page of this book, I had formed a distaste for this little boy. I don't care what the age of the child, the frightful action of this one seemed as if it could only result from stupidity, not innocense. Shortly thereafter, his callus harming of an innocent kitten furthered my dislike. However, as a great many children do, he matured not so badly after all. I must respect Richard Wright for the honesty with which he tells his story, not leaving out those early, disturbing actions which do not win the hearts of readers. As always, the life of the blacks in the "Jim Crow" south is disturbing and depressing, but this tale also gives the reader an insight into the struggles between the blacks themselves as far as outlook, ambition and acceptance go. I admire Mr. Wright for, first, his inherent sense of equality and individualism, and secondly, for his determination to succeed. I found myself feeling such anger at a world of such racism that would bow down any race to the extent that the people not only live in such terror and unjust oppression but that so many suffer such defeatism as to accept it. Horror! One fault I find with Mr. Wright's account is that he seemed to have the impression that he was one of few of his kind. Perhaps his thinking wasn't what would have been considered the "norm", but I assume there must have been many more of his view and courage (Martin Luther King, Jr. might be noteworthy) or we would still be living in those dark ages. Well, so my overall conclusion is that this is a book well worth reading.
—Jerri Brissette
This memoir of Richard Wright is extremely well-developed and shows the great meanings to his life. Richard uses many literary devices to keep readers interested. This memoir chronicles aspects of Wright's life, through the good and the bad and creates clear images of the struggles he grew up with. The text flows with ease and enables a clear timeline of events.I enjoyed reading this book because Wright uses certain tones to create emotion and allows you to feel like you're going through his life right by his side. There are many family struggles that Richard had to go through in his life that really captured his character. He and his brother were constantly attempting to figure out just where they belonged in the World. With racism emerging rapidly, Richard felt somewhat lost on how to think of the opposite race. Money was also a major issue in this time period, especially for people of the darker race. Often times Richard would go weak and unaware of his surroundings due to his immense hunger. It was thrilling to see how Richard became educated throughout his life and how hard he struggled to make it past each day. Often times I would compare what I was reading to the way people live in the current time. This book informed me more about history and gave me a clear image of the lifestyles during this time period. I would recommend this book to anyone looking for a great read.
—Kayli Wolber
