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Postcategorical Utopia

James Baldwin and the Political Unconscious of Imagined Futures

by Pekka Kilpelainen (Author)
©2023 Monographs X, 316 Pages
Series: Ralahine Utopian Studies, Volume 29

Summary

«Kilpeläinen’s engaging journey through Baldwin’s postcategorical utopian thought shows how this writer’s under-appreciated later works foresee today’s heated ideological and philosophical debates. From political unconscious to Afrofuturism, this book maps Baldwin’s Black queer wisdom: Labels and essentialized identities easily ‘become instruments of power,’ dividing and alienating societies, cultures, and individuals.»
(Magdalena J. Zaborowska, Professor of American Studies and Afroamerican and African Studies, University of Michigan)
«This study is an important and timely analysis of Baldwin’s later novels. Kilpeläinen’s writing is sophisticated and eloquent, and his critical framework is startlingly clear and illuminating. Seizing on Baldwin’s ‘incessant urgency,’ he advances an authoritative, convincing argument that will add enduringly to our collective appreciation of America’s prophetic witness.»
(D. Quentin Miller, Professor of English, Suffolk University, Boston)
This book examines the dialectic of ideology and utopia in three novels by James Baldwin. Taking Fredric Jameson’s seminal theory of the political unconscious as its point of departure, Dr Pekka Kilpeläinen conceptualizes Baldwin’s writing in terms of the impulse of postcategorical utopia, where the ideological categorizations based on race and sexuality, in particular, are challenged by the utopian impulse to imagine alternative futures. The readings of three of Baldwin’s novels probe into the questions of ideological and utopian spatialities, transgressive interracial and same-sex relationships, and critiques of both Western modernity and its black counterculture. Baldwin’s denouncement of the oppressive effects of identity categories penetrates his entire oeuvre, from his early, critically acclaimed work to his later, often ignored novels. Seen through the lens of postcategorical utopia, the urgency of Baldwin’s vision gains a new sense of immediacy and relevance.

Table Of Contents

  • Cover
  • Title
  • Copyright
  • About the author
  • About the book
  • This eBook can be cited
  • Contents
  • List of Figures
  • Acknowledgements
  • Chapter 1 Introduction: James Baldwin and the Utopian Impulse
  • Chapter 2 Reading Politically: Fredric Jameson, Ideology and Utopia
  • Chapter 3 Geographies of Ideology and Utopia in Go Tell It on the Mountain
  • Chapter 4 Black Christ(opher) and the Triangle of Postcategorical Love in Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone
  • Chapter 5 Beyond Modernity and Its Black Counterculture: The Dialectic of Ideology and Utopia in Just Above My Head
  • Chapter 6 Conclusion: Postcategorical Utopia and Messianic Time
  • Bibliography
  • Index

Acknowledgements

This book has been a long time coming. It has waited in the wings through times of desperation and hope, times both trying and rewarding. It has taken me on a journey through the beat of the chilly, sunlit streets of Harlem in early March, through the unique vibe of summery southern France, through the dusty silences of several libraries and archives, and into the overwhelming sense of collectivity and congeniality in conferences celebrating James Baldwin’s work and legacy. In a word, through a crucial chapter of my life.

Numerous people have played indispensable roles in this journey from the preliminary, erratic attempts by a disillusioned student towards, firstly, a doctoral dissertation and, finally, to a real book. I would like to extend my gratitude to the following people, in particular: Jopi Nyman, John A. Stotesbury, Risto Turunen, Matti Savolainen, Mikko Tuhkanen, Madgalena J. Zaborowska, Pirjo Ahokas, Gerald Porter, D. Quentin Miller, Lynn Orilla Scott, Bill Schwarz, Anna-Leena Toivanen, Hanna Reinikainen, Lea Tajakka, Jarmo Romppanen, Justyna Kiełkowicz, and everyone else who has in one way or another contributed to and facilitated my work over the years. My special thanks go to Michael G. Kelly and the Ralahine Centre for Utopian Studies and Anthony Mason at Peter Lang. I am humbled by their endless patience and help, without which this book would have remained in the realm of imagined futures ad infinitum. I also thank the Academy of Finland for funding my research and the University of Eastern Finland for providing the institutional context for my work. Finally, I want to direct my love and gratefulness to my family, first and foremost to Taija and Antto, my mother, and Anna and Ilija.

***

I would like to thank the editors and publishers of books and journals who have given me permission to republish, in revised form, material which has previously appeared in print. I have used parts of the following book chapters and articles: ‘Transcending the Boundaries of Race and Sexuality: James Baldwin’s Vision of Postcategorical Utopia’, in Post-National Enquiries: Essays on Ethnic and Racial Border Crossings, ed. Jopi Nyman (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2009), 47–61; ‘Mapping the Transcultural Impulse of Postcategorical Utopia: Modernity and Its Black Counterculture in James Baldwin’s Just above My Head’, Otherness: Essays and Studies 3/1 (2012), 1–13; ‘James Baldwin’s Gospel of Postcategorical Love’, in James Baldwin: Challenging Authors, ed. A. Scott Henderson and P. L. Thomas (Rotterdam: BrillSense Publishers, 2014), 181–96; ‘“Like the Sound of a Crumbling Wall”: Transcultural Spatiality in James Baldwin’s Just above My Head’, Atlantic Studies: Global Currents 12/1 (2015), 109–27; In Search of a Postcategorical Utopia: James Baldwin and the Politics of ‘Race’ and Sexuality (Joensuu: University of Eastern Finland, 2010).

CHAPTER 1
Introduction: James Baldwin and the Utopian Impulse

James Baldwin was a witness. A seer with insight deep into the oppressive structures and practices of American society and beyond. He was also a dreamer. Not in the sense of passive and stale daydreaming, but, rather, in the sense of politically and socially polemical envisioning of our possibilities to imagine and construct alternative futures, decidedly distinct from the oppressive modes of social being which Baldwin so persistently criticized and which continue to define our lives in the twenty-first century. This is a thematic undercurrent that runs through Baldwin’s work in all the forms and genres that he embraced in his career. And this is exactly where and why we find ourselves in need of new ways of reading his works, ways of accessing the depths of his time-defying vision of what he often referred to as the New Jerusalem. In other words, Baldwin’s writing is characterized by a progressive, emancipatory impulse towards a world where the categorizations based on race, sexuality, gender and class would be divested of their capacity for oppression, for producing and maintaining relations of subjugation and abuse.

It is here that the concept of utopia assumes the spotlight of critical attention. Despite the fact that all too many people, both inside and outside the academia, still flinch at the mere mention of the word ‘utopia’ – or very likely exactly because of that – this complex and controversial concept requires to be placed under scrutiny, to be explicated, disassembled and reconstructed. This study takes its inspiration from Fredric Jameson’s proclamation, according to which ‘the question of Utopia would seem to be a crucial test of what is left of our capacity to imagine change’.1 Unless we want to uphold the oppressive social structures and institutions that define our lives and the lives of generations to come, it is our obligation and prerogative to rethink utopia in order to keep up our capability of social dreaming and envisioning cultural change. In the previous couple of decades or so, a remarkable body of research has emerged in which this demanding task has been undertaken by several scholars. While most of these studies tend to focus on science fiction, they are undoubtedly crucial for my account on the utopian impulse in Baldwin, as they rethink and reconceptualise the concept of utopia in innovative and groundbreaking ways, particularly in terms of the categories of race and sexuality. These issues provide an important gateway into the depths of Baldwin’s literary and intellectual work.

In this book, I want to highlight and, indeed, bear witness to the incessant urgency of James Baldwin’s literary and intellectual legacy. The three and a half decades that have passed since the end of his life and literary career provide a critical vantage point and the gift of hindsight, which facilitate a reassessment of his work. Although the larger social and political influence of his prophetic and polemical voice arguably decreased in the later stages of his career, its echoes have started to resonate with increasing strength in recent decades. This rising wave of interest in his work and legacy is long overdue because – despite his prominent role as perhaps the most frequently quoted African American writer and social activist in the late 1950s and early 1960s, particularly concerning the issues of race in America – his work from the mid-1960s onwards has all too often been ignored and underrated. The recent resurgence of critical and popular attention paid to Baldwin is evidenced by the publication during the past couple of decades or so of several anthologies and major studies of his work and by the recurrent reprinting of his books. The founding of the journal James Baldwin Review in 2014 and the organization of several conferences on his work and legacy, for example in London, Boston, New York, Montpellier and Paris between 2007 and 2016, with impressive rosters of speakers and delegates from around the world, are further indications of the longevity of Baldwin’s literary and intellectual legacy. The success of the documentary film I Am Not Your Negro (2016), directed by Raoul Peck – which was nominated for and won several notable international awards – and the Academy Award winning movie If Beale Street Could Talk (2018), directed by Barry Jenkins, speak, for their part, for the turning of the tide in the history of Baldwin’s public status.2

The bottom line and fundamental reason for the tidal wave of renewed interest are, however, that Baldwin’s words are still invested with urgency, undiminished in their insight and importance, demanding that we hear, recover and reconsider what has been ignored and lost. His lifelong mission to fight against the oppressive power of social categorization in its various forms must not be forgotten. It is this call to remember and to re-evaluate the literary and ideological legacy of James Baldwin that this study seeks to respond to and participate in.

Broadly speaking, Baldwin’s humanist agenda is based on his conviction that human beings are capable of moral progress and positive change. Accordingly, a central tendency in his writing is the desire to undermine and transcend various kinds of categorizations, especially those pertaining to race and sexuality. The origins of this impulse are expressed in an autobiographical passage in his essay ‘Freaks and the American Ideal of Manhood’: ‘all of the American categories of male and female, straight or not, black or white, were shattered, thank heaven, very early in my life. Not without anguish, certainly; but once you have discerned the meaning of a label, it may seem to define you for others, but it does not have the power to define you to yourself.’3 Baldwin understood the capacity of these categories to produce and maintain relations of oppression, and he devoted his life and work to resisting and dismantling their power.

Another example of Baldwin’s incredulity at categorization can be found in his seminal essay ‘Everybody’s Protest Novel’, in which he criticizes Richard Wright’s Native Son (1940)4 and explains why he sees it as a failure:

we find ourselves bound, first without, then within, by the nature of our categorisation. […] We take our shape, it is true, within and against that cage of reality bequeathed us at our birth; and yet it is precisely through our dependence on this reality that we are most endlessly betrayed. […] The failure of the protest novel lies in its rejection of life, the human being, the denial of his beauty, dread, power, in its insistence that it is his categorisation alone which is real and which cannot be transcended.5

As Lawrie Balfour points out in The Evidence of Things Not Said: James Baldwin and the Promise of American Democracy (2001), Baldwin saw the moral vision perpetuated by Native Son and much of the tradition of protest literature as based on a simplifying division of the world into ‘good and evil, innocent and guilty.’6 She argues that

[i]‌nadequate to the task of grappling with either slavery or racial injustices, this moral vision copes with their existence by assigning individuals and their behavior to simple categories and mouthing moral formulas. The protest novel proclaims its good intentions but does so by providing so flat a picture of the evil it aims to overcome that readers are not required to recognize racial injustice in their own lives.7

This is exactly what Baldwin sought to avoid and criticize in his own work. He saw that categorizations tend to become instruments of power through which relations of inequality and oppression are produced and maintained. This is where Baldwin’s thinking assumes a position of resistance against the tradition of Western modernity which may be seen as largely based on such categories as gender, race, sexuality and class. Baldwin was far ahead of his time in his questioning and challenging the essentialist conceptions of identity that these categories entail.

Looking at Baldwin through the utopian lens may not seem an obvious choice, since a majority of utopian literary studies has tended to concentrate on speculative fiction and science fiction, in particular. Granted, it would be highly problematic to read Baldwin’s works as science fiction by any stretch of the imagination, as his writing neither depicts any clear-cut models or instances of a better world nor includes any elements that could be regarded as supernatural. Instead, what may be detected in his fiction, in particular, is the utopian impulse. This may be understood, in accordance with Jameson’s thinking, through the distinction between utopia as a genre and utopia as an impulse.8 In other words, the primary focus of this study is placed not on what Phillip E. Wegner refers to as the ‘literary genre of the narrative utopia’9 per se, but, rather, on the utopian impulse in narratives. In Baldwin’s novels, the utopian impulse is manifested in different forms, such as utopian spaces, syncretic characters and chronotopes. It is important to emphasize that in terms of Ernst Bloch’s differentiation between abstract and concrete utopia, the utopian impulse in Baldwin’s novels largely operates according to the logic of the latter. In other words, the utopian impulse does not appear as mere politically docile daydreaming of some current problem being miraculously resolved in the future. Rather, it is rooted in the problems of the past and the present and constructs anticipatory glimpses of futures radically different from the present.10

Its focus on the utopian impulse in narratives that cannot in any straightforward sense be defined as utopian texts is what gives this book its central impetus and, to be sure, its fundamental challenge. As Angelika Bammer suggests in Partial Visions: Feminism and Utopianism in the 1970s (1991), the utopian impulse is prevalent in minority literatures even when they do not construct actual utopias.11 Limiting utopian literary studies to science fiction would, therefore, leave an important dimension of utopia in literatures unexamined. It is exactly in looking for the traces of the utopian impulse, of what Bloch calls anticipatory illumination or consciousness,12 in texts that would seem to fall outside the conventional category of utopian literature, that becomes one of the central contributions of this book to utopian studies. This is in line with what Bammer’s Partial Visions also focuses on, that is, not on full-fledged utopias, but, rather, on fragments and anticipatory signs of alternative futures.

My main focus in this book will be on explicating how the politics of race and sexuality and the concomitant categories of identity function in Baldwin’s writing. To conceptualize the grand scheme of Baldwin’s thinking, the central underlying thematic current which runs throughout the entirety of his oeuvre, this study foregrounds what I will call the idea of postcategorical utopia, an impulse towards a world in which such categories as race, sexuality and gender would lose their capacity for oppression. Such a world would inevitably be radically different from our own, since the principles and practices of late modernity are so fundamentally based on the power relations produced through social categorization. Baldwin never actually defines this ideal in any detail, except in negative terms, as the absence of categorization; rather, he suggests simply that the means of attaining this better world is love in the Baldwinian sense, that is, without ideological restrictions.13 The characters in his novels transgress and momentarily transcend various conventional categories, but this usually fails to produce any lasting state of personal happiness or any changes on a larger social scale. Despite the transgressive behaviour of these characters, the world around them remains unchanged, and we only see utopian glimpses of and allusions to what might lie beyond the world of late modernity governed by oppressive categorization, which may be read in accordance with Bloch’s anticipatory illumination. The transitory temporality of these utopian moments does not dilute the polemical power of Baldwin’s writing as a socially symbolic act in its own right, since its significance and effect on the world are undeniable. It is exactly the explication and analysis of Baldwin’s denunciation of the defining power of categorization that will prove to be at the core of my contribution to Baldwin studies.

My analysis of the politics of race and sexuality in Baldwin’s writing will concentrate on three of his novels: his debut, Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953), his fourth novel, Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone (1968) and his last one, Just Above My Head (1979).14 Together, these works span not only most of Baldwin’s career as a writer, but also three different phases both of American society and of the struggle of African Americans towards social equality. Each of these novels is necessarily shaped by its distinctive socio-political context, providing access to the crucial social issues and problems of each era. Go Tell was written during the late 1940s and early 1950s, an era of racial segregation, the slow economic ascension of the Black middle class, the exclusionary ideology of McCarthyism, Cold War and the almost dormant state of Black protest movements. Baldwin wrote Tell Me in the mid and late 1960s, marked by fervent civil rights activism, the passing of the Civil Rights Bill and the Voting Rights Act, political assassinations, the Vietnam War and the conflict within the Black protest movement between the ideologies of nonviolence and Black Power. Just Above was published eleven years later, in a period characterized by the widening of the chasm between the Black élite and the black proletariat, the backlash of White conservatism and the waning of affirmative action and Black radicalism. In addition to Baldwin’s novels, I will also refer to his essays from various periods to analyse the ideological and utopian aspects of his writing.

An integral theoretical and methodological starting point for my readings of Baldwin’s novels is Fredric Jameson’s theory of the political unconscious, according to which literary works are read as symbolic acts, producing imaginary resolutions to real social contradictions.15 In this process, the text is regarded as a site of ideology, and its central problems are read as symbolic manifestations of the social contradictions of the historical context of its production. According to my elaboration of Jameson’s theory, these problems appear in the text in the form of ideological closures, as products of exclusionary ways of thinking and structuring the world, which result in the creation and maintenance of oppressive social categories. The text seeks to solve these problems by generating what I regard as utopian projections, visions of an alternative, better future. My definitions of the concepts of ideology and utopia follow Karl Mannheim’s views, presented in Ideology and Utopia: An Introduction to the Sociology of Knowledge (1929), according to which ideology is defined as a complex of ideas aimed at preserving the prevailing order, whereas utopia refers to modes of thinking that tend towards transforming the status quo.16 Building on Jameson’s thinking, the text is conceptualized as a field of force, where history appears in the form of ideological closures, countered by fantasy, which assumes the form of utopian projections. This fundamental dialectic of ideology and utopia gives rise to the text at the intersection of history and fantasy and, simultaneously, reshapes the levels of history and fantasy. As a consequence, the connection between a text and its socio-historical context is formed, and a political mode of reading literary texts is established.

The analyses of Baldwin’s novels follow the framework of the three horizons of Jameson’s theory of the political unconscious as outlined in The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act (1981).17 The process of reading proceeds through three distinct conceptual horizons in which the social ground of the reading expands gradually. In the first horizon, the fundamental contradiction of the text must be identified and then grasped as a symbolic resolution of a real social contradiction. The second horizon marks the widening out of the social scope of the reading to encompass the social order. Here the text is understood as a symbolic utterance, which carries an ideological message in the antagonistic dialogue between a dominant and an oppressed social group. The third horizon places the literary work in its widest context in the history of modes of production. This is conducted by searching for traces of how the text under scrutiny is related to modes of production and their cultural dominants.

In the analytical chapters of this book, each of the three of Baldwin’s novels will largely comply with one of these horizons, following the strategy adopted by Jameson in The Political Unconscious, which will enable me to provide new angles on these works. What this means in this study is that in Chapter 3 Go Tell will be read within the scope of the first horizon of Jameson’s hermeneutical theory, in which the oppressive and confining closure, the home of the Grimes family, will be regarded as the central cluster of problems. This is grasped as a symbolic manifestation of the fundamental social contradictions of the era in which the novel was produced, that is, the problem of racial subjugation in the United States in the late 1940s and early 1950s and, on the other hand, the issue of heteronormativity within Black religious communities. The analysis will explicate the functioning of the dialectic of ideology and utopia in terms of space, both ideological and utopian. Tell Me will be placed within the second horizon, in which the triangle of transgressive relationships produces the syncretic, mythical character of Black Christopher, who functions as an embodiment of the Baldwinian ideal of love as a means of transcending the categories of race and sexuality. In the third horizon, Just Above will be read as a manifestation of resistance against the oppressive ideologies of modernity, particularly in terms of race, but also against the forms of oppression which can be detected within the Black counterculture of modernity, especially homophobia and misogyny.

In other words, the reading process starts from the Black family and community, moves on to the level of the social order in terms of race and sexuality and finally expands to the level of the historical continuum of modes of production where the oppressive tendencies of both Western modernity and its Black counterculture are revealed as the fundamental loci of ideological closure. This strategy will explicate the politics of race and sexuality on three different levels by unmasking the gradual expansion of the political scope of Baldwin’s work and underscoring the political significance of the underlying impulse of postcategorical utopia which runs throughout his work. In the process, the hitherto ignored and understated importance of Tell Me and Just Above as integral parts of his work is reassessed and confirmed.

The rest of this introductory chapter seeks to provide some contextual information on Baldwin, his work, reception and earlier research. The chapter concludes with an overview of utopian thinking in the African American context, tracing the ways in which the impulse towards alternative futures has been manifested in African American culture, thereby providing a larger context for my explication of the utopian tendencies in Baldwin’s work. Chapter 2 focuses on the theoretical framework developed and used in this political reading of Baldwin’s novels. Firstly, this entails a brief overview of the premises of Jameson’s thinking, with particular emphasis on his theory of the political unconscious and the three horizons of textual interpretation. This will be followed by an explication of the two central concepts which constitute my methodology of reading Baldwin politically: ideology and utopia. The discussion will then move on to what may be considered to be my contribution to literary theory, that is, my understanding of the dialectic of ideology and utopia as a constitutive dynamic at work in literary texts. What this means is that I have started from the premises laid down by Jameson’s thinking, and I have then worked my way towards a more systematic and elaborate notion of this fundamental dialectic. In other words, I have aspired to do what Jameson has not, in effect, sought to do in The Political Unconscious, that is, to shape this theory into a tool of textual analysis instead of arguing for the primacy of the Marxist perspective over all other theoretical traditions.18 This has enabled me to adjust the theory of the political unconscious and transform it into a useful methodological tool which facilitates the explication of the political dimensions of Baldwin’s novels.

The analytical chapters of this book place the three selected novels by Baldwin within the framework of the political unconscious by examining how the categories of race and sexuality function on each of these levels. In Chapter 3, my reading of the dialectic of ideology and utopia in Go Tell explicates the ideological closure of home and the spatial configurations of the utopian impulse to open up this oppressive closure. In Chapter 4, I will provide an account of Tell Me which foregrounds the crucial role of the syncretic figure of Black Christopher and the transgressive interracial and same-sex relationships which bring him into being. This reading breaks new ground by highlighting the importance of this still rather neglected novel in Baldwin’s oeuvre. Chapter 5 analyses Baldwin’s last novel, the ambitious Just Above, as part of the Black counterculture of modernity and, simultaneously, as its critique. This entails an overview of Paul Gilroy’s account of the Black counterculture in his seminal The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness (1993), which is followed by a discussion of Just Above as a reaction against White racism and, on the other hand, against heteronormativity, both White and Black. These analytical chapters will form an account of Baldwin’s work and legacy in terms of postcategorical utopia, a conceptualization of the underlying emancipatory, teleological current, which becomes visible and is developed further in each of these novels.

James Baldwin: A Biographical and Critical Overview

Despite the long overdue resurgence of scholarly interest in his work, James Baldwin’s position within the tradition of African American literature still remains somewhat ambivalent. Although he was highly regarded in the early stages of his career, in the 1950s and early 1960s, in particular, he has tended to be overshadowed by his male contemporaries Richard Wright and Ralph Ellison and, from the 1970s onwards, by African American women writers such as Toni Morrison and Alice Walker. As D. Quentin Miller points out in his introduction to Re-Viewing James Baldwin: Things Not Seen (2000), despite the undeniable scope and variety of Baldwin’s influence, his ‘novels are certainly less likely to be included in American literature courses than novels by the three most prominent African American novelists of the past half-century: Richard Wright, Ralph Ellison, and Toni Morrison’.19 I would concur with Miller’s view, according to which ‘Baldwin’s fate in literary history […] rests upon his refusal to attach himself to any single ideology, literary form, or vision. Because he never let himself be labeled as a gay writer, a Black writer, a protest writer, a modern writer, a fiction writer, an essay writer, or a prophetic writer, his legacy is not entirely stable’.20 Dwight A. McBride also supports this in his introduction to James Baldwin Now (1999) by emphasizing the complexity of ‘Baldwin’s vision of and for humanity’ and his refusal to confine himself to one or two literary forms, despite the tendency of his contemporary critics to place him in one or other of these categories.21 In a word, Baldwin’s ambivalent position results from the fact that his legacy is too complex to fit into any available category through which it could be read and understood in simple and straightforward terms.

Baldwin is often regarded as a part of the tradition of African American protest literature. As suggested above, his relation to that tradition is complicated, and he pointedly attacks it by arguing that protest novels, exemplified by Harriet Beecher-Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852)22 and Richard Wright’s Native Son, are guilty of certain ‘racial innocence’. They perpetuate the illusion that issues like racism are distant and somehow external: ‘[they have] nothing to do with us, [they are] safely ensconced to the social arena, where, indeed, [they have] nothing to do with anyone’.23 Marlon B. Ross offers a useful interpretation of Baldwin’s position in his article ‘White Fantasies of Desire’: ‘According to Baldwin, protest fiction plays up the illusion that we can understand injustice by fictionally representing the categories on which that injustice is based. Instead, Baldwin wants to explode those categories, offering not a protest but rather a critique that disables the categories from retaining their oppressive power’.24 Here we are at the core of Baldwin’s thinking, which underlies all of his writing, fiction and nonfiction alike. To quote his own words:

Our passion for categorisation, life neatly fitted into pegs, has led to an unforeseen, paradoxical distress; confusion, a breakdown of meaning. Those categories which were meant to define and control the world for us have boomeranged us into chaos; in which limbo we whirl, clutching the straws of our definitions.25

In Baldwin’s view, these categories function to deny humanity itself, and they must, therefore, be deconstructed. Protest novels do not, Baldwin argues, question or transcend this categorization; instead, they propagate it.26 In her essay ‘Finding the Words: Baldwin, Race Consciousness, and Democratic Theory’, Lawrie Balfour sums this up well: ‘protest novels, far from encouraging self-examination or critique, generate the sort of indignation that comforts the comfortable in the righteousness of their opinions and the necessity of the existing moral framework’.27

As McBride points out, the resistance of hegemonies was at the very centre of Baldwin’s life as well as of his works, and he was committed to the struggle ‘for racial equality, against elitism both in the United States and abroad, and against the forces of heterosexism both inside and outside the black community’.28 Baldwin draws attention to the ability of society ‘to convince those people to whom it has given inferior status of the reality of this decree; it has the force and the weapons to translate its dictum into fact, so that the allegedly inferior are actually made so, in so far as the societal realities are concerned’.29 Closely connected with this resistance of hegemonies is his resolute rejection of traditional narrow identity categories. As James A. Dievler argues in his essay ‘Sexual Exiles: James Baldwin and Another Country’, Baldwin was not content to see himself in the rigid, categorized way in which most others saw him, that is, as Black, gay and male.30 It is exactly the denunciation of the defining power of categorization which will also prove to be the focal point of discussion in this study.

As far as style is concerned, Baldwin’s prose is eloquent and poetic, and it is largely based on such modernist literary devices as the interior monologue, stream of consciousness and complex handling of time. Religion has been a strong element in African American culture, and it is also an important factor in Baldwin’s writing. His language is characterized by an extensive use of biblical allusions, which appear overtly in direct quotations from the Bible and hymns, and more covertly in the names of the characters, such as Black Christopher in Tell Me and Gabriel in Go Tell. The African American tradition of oral culture is also clearly visible in Baldwin’s writing, particularly in the form of quotations from old slave songs and gospel and blues lyrics. Baldwin comments on his own style in his essay ‘Autobiographical Notes’: ‘I hazard that the King James Bible, the rhetoric of the store-front church, something ironic and violent and perpetually understated in Negro speech – and something of Dickens’ love for bravura – have something to do with me today’.31 One important source of influence on Baldwin may also be found in the literary style of Henry James, as Charles Newman, for example, argues in ‘The Lesson of the Master: Henry James and James Baldwin’.32 It is therefore obvious that Baldwin’s style is analogous with the general tradition of African American literature, since both result from the intersection of African American and mainstream American influences. Traces of this dual heritage may also be detected in the title of Baldwin’s first collection of essays, Notes of a Native Son (1955), which seems to allude to Henry James’s autobiographical Notes of a Son and Brother (1914) and also to Richard Wright’s novel Native Son.33

James Arthur Baldwin was born on 2 August 1924, in Harlem, New York, to Emma Berdis Jones. As David Leeming, one of his biographers, states in James Baldwin: A Biography (1994), it is unclear whether Baldwin had any information about his biological father.34 He was raised under the stern, almost tyrannical guidance of his stepfather, David Baldwin, who was a preacher and, according to Leeming, suffered from mental illness, which was manifested especially in ‘the form of an arbitrary and puritanical discipline and a depressing air of bitter frustration’ to which the whole family was subjected.35 Leeming suggests that David Baldwin’s illness was largely a consequence of racial discrimination which rendered him unable to provide his family ‘with what they needed most – their birthright, their identity as individuals rather than as members of a class or a race’.36 In his essay ‘Notes of a Native Son’, James Baldwin points out that he did not know his stepfather very well.37 There seems to have been an almost complete lack of communication between them.

It was only years later, after his stepfather’s death, that James Baldwin came to understand profoundly the dimensions of the frustration which David Baldwin had suffered from. According to Leeming, Baldwin learned to see that his stepfather’s tyrannical attempts to protect his children from earthly evil were a result of the latter’s inability to love himself in the White world which despised him.38 This problematic relationship between Baldwin and his stepfather, and the latter’s extremely strict view of religion, may be seen as one reason for the former’s ambiguous attitude towards religion, which is constantly visible in his writing. This is exemplified in Tell Me, for instance, specifically in the dispute between Leo and his brother Caleb, who experiences a religious conversion and becomes a preacher. Leeming also argues that Baldwin was to use his stepfather as ‘the archetypal victim of the “chronic disease” of racism’ in his literary works.39

Baldwin’s relationship to his mother seems to have been a significant balancing force, particularly during his childhood and adolescence. As Leeming suggests, Berdis Baldwin was the main reason that young James was able to come to terms with his stepfather, because she functioned as a kind of an ‘antidote’ to the same disease of racism of which David Baldwin was a victim.40 She advised her children to love people ‘for their faults as well as their virtues, their ugliness as well as their beauty’.41 Leeming goes on to argue that the principle of love which James learned from his mother was to act as a major constituent in the Baldwinian ideal of love as a solution to the racial problem.42 This ideal will prove to be a central issue in this study as well.

Details

Pages
X, 316
Year
2023
ISBN (PDF)
9781800792340
ISBN (ePUB)
9781800792357
ISBN (MOBI)
9781800792364
ISBN (Softcover)
9781800792333
DOI
10.3726/b18049
Language
English
Publication date
2023 (August)
Keywords
Western modernity and its black counterculture African American literature utopia Ideology and utopia Pekka Kilpeläinen Postcategorical utopia James Baldwin and the Political Unconscious of Imagined Futures Ralahine Utopian Studies
Published
Oxford, Berlin, Bruxelles, Chennai, Lausanne, New York, 2023. X, 316 pp., 5 fig. b/w.

Biographical notes

Pekka Kilpelainen (Author)

Pekka Kilpeläinen, PhD, works as a university lecturer of English Language and Culture at the University of Eastern Finland, Joensuu. His research interests include African American literature and culture, ideology and utopia, Fredric Jameson’s theory of the political unconscious, transculturation and postcolonialism, queer studies, cultural memory and spatiality. He has published articles on James Baldwin, Randall Kenan and other African American writers in journals such as Atlantic Studies, European Journal of American Studies and Amerikastudien/American Studies. His most recent project, funded by the Academy of Finland, examined the manifestation and negotiations of the traumatic cultural memory of slavery in contemporary African American writing.

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Title: Postcategorical Utopia
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328 pages