If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin – A must read.
If Beale Street Coult Talk by James Baldwin (1974) French title: Si Beale Street pouvait parler.
Beale Street is a street in New Orleans, where my father, where Louis Armstrong and the jazz were born. Every black person born in America was born on Beale Street, whether in Jackson, Mississippi or in Harlem, New York. Beale Street is our legacy. James Baldwin
This is a way to tell the reader that what happens in Baldwin’s novel If Beale Street Could Talk can happen everywhere in America. It’s painfully banal.
Fonny and Tish, the main characters, could be anyone. Fonny is twenty-two and Tish is nineteen. They live in Harlem in the early 1970s. They’ve known each other since they were children and are now a young couple in love. Marriage is in the air. Fonny wants to be a sculptor and works as a short order cook to make ends meet. Tish works in a fancy department store, in the perfume stand, where hiring a black clerk shows off how progressive the store is. They’re looking for a loft in the Village, to start their life together and for Fonny to have a workshop.
As soon as the book starts, we know that Fonny is in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. He’s accused of raping a woman from Porto Rico. Tish is pregnant with their baby. Tish is our narrator, her voice a haunting presence, aged by her circumstances. She recalls her life with Fonny, their love and tells us about their fight to get him out of jail.
If Beale Street Could Talk is the story of a young and hopeful couple crushed by a system who wants its black population staying in designated neighborhoods and nowhere else. Except jail.
Fonny had found something that he could do, that he wanted to do, and this saved him from the death that was waiting to overtake the children of our age. Though the death took many forms, though people died early in many different ways, the death itself was very simple and the cause was simple, too: as simple as a plague: the kids had been told that they weren’t worth shit and everything they saw around them proved it. They struggled, they struggled, but they fell, like flies, and they congregated on the garbage heaps of their lives, like flies. And perhaps I clung to Fonny, perhaps Fonny saved me because he was just about the only boy I know who wasn’t fooling around with the needles or drinking cheap wine or mugging people or holding up stores – and he never got his hair conked: it just stayed nappy. He started working as a short order cook in a barbecue joint, so he could eat, and he found a basement where he could work on his wood and he was at our house more often than he was at his own house.
And indeed, Fonny’s only crime is to move out of Harlem to the Village, to dare to be a sculptor.
That same passion which saved Fonny got him into trouble, and put him in jail. For, you see, he had found his center, his own center, inside him: and it showed. He wasn’t anybody’s nigger. And that’s a crime, in this fucking free country. You’re supposed to be somebody’s nigger. And if you’re nobody’s nigger, you’re a bad nigger: and that’s what the cops decided when Fonny moved downtown.
That’s probably his only crime.
Fonny’s fall is staged. The victim was raped on Orchard Street in the Lower East Side and Fonny lives on Bank Street in the Village. As Tish points out, it’s a long way to run with a police officer on your heels. I put random addresses in Google Maps to see the distance between Orchard Street and Bank Street and it says it takes two hours and a half to walk from one street to the other. What marathon runners Fonny and this cop must have been to cover this distance.
The system is meant to crush them and no one will lift a finger to point out the obvious: that this procedure is ludicrous and unfair. Fonny’s white lawyer, Hayward is genuinely on the case. But the system throws any hurdle it can on the way. And his dedication on the case is suspicious to his peers, he starts to be an outcast in his profession.
It’s a haunting story because of Tish’s voice. She’s dead calm, telling her story with precision and resignation. And yet she fights and stays strong. Her family and Fonny’s father Frank gather around the young couple. They fight with all their might but their power is limited by their financial means and the color of their skin.
The only ones who don’t fight are Fonny’s mother and sisters. These churchy persons rely on God’s goodwill. If Fonny is meant to go out of prison, God will take care of it. They even feed the white power’s fire by speaking ill of Fonny, their own family. It’s so against actual Christian values that it would be laughable if it didn’t have such tragic consequences.
From the beginning, the reader knows that this is real life, not some Hollywood tale with a fairy godmother who saves the day. I read Go Tell It on the Mountain recently. In his debut novel, Balwin, the son of a preacher, hadn’t made up his mind regarding religion. In Beale Street, he has.
Of course, I must say that I don’t think America is God’s gift to anybody – if it is, God’s days have got to be numbered. That God these people say they serve – and do serve, in ways that they don’t know – has got a very nasty sense of humor. Like you’d beat the shit out of Him, if He was a man. Or: if you were.
I also watched I Am Not Your Negro, a documentary that leaves you shaken. Beale Street includes a lot of Baldwin’s thinking about America. In an interview, he explains that he’s between Martin Luther King’s views and Malcom X’s position. His ambivalence toward religion makes him challenge the non-violent attitude. The power of love cannot conquer all, as Tish and Fonny finds out. Worse, pious people can be your enemies, through their passivity and their feeling of superiority.
But he also says that he cannot hate all white people because he had a white school teacher when he was little and she took him under her wing. Seeing a bright child, she brought him books, took him out and helped him be more than what society had decided a black boy should be. Her kindness rooted in him the knowledge that not all white people were made of the same cloth.
Beale Street reflects that as well, as three white citizen help Fonny and Tish along the way. A landlord who doesn’t mind renting a loft to a black couple. An Italian woman who comes to Tish’s defense when she’s harassed by a white man. And of course, Hayward, the white lawyer who doesn’t give up.
King’s views might be too optimistic and Malcom X’s views might be too extreme. Baldwin stands in the middle. He’s implacable in his description of America, both in Beale Street and in I Am Not Your Negro. He throws punches with facts and cold anger. He’s rational and spot on, except when he says he doesn’t believe that a black man could become president of the USA within 40 years. He doesn’t spread hatred, he just wants the white population of the USA to acknowledge that African-Americans contributed to the construction of the country, that America is their legitimate homeland.
But Beale Street is a lot more than a political novel. It’s a delicate picture of young love. Baldwin writes graceful pages about Tish and Fonny’s new love, how their friendship turned into something more, how strong they are together and how solid their bond is. It’s described beautifully, through little touches here and there, in small moves and looks. No grand gestures here, only feelings that grow timidly, find a suitable compost and bloom beautifully. Their love has solid roots, they should have a future together, one that is robbed from them.
Baldwin is a master at mixing a lovely romance with strong political ideas and a great sense of place. Even if Beale Street could be any place in America according to Baldwin, in this novel, there’s no denying that we are in New York. Again, I’m amazed at his talent. His voice walks on the difficult line of being accusing but not yelling. He chooses a love story to throw uncomfortable political truths at us. And yet the romance is not a prop for politics. It has its own beauty, its own worth. And, this, my reading friends, is only achieved by masters of literature.
Not “Highly recommended”, but like Going to Meet the Man, a Must Read.
It was great to read your post on If Beale Street could Talk, which I very much want to read. I also saw the film I Am Not Your Negro just a few days ago and thought it such a powerful account of the life of James Baldwin, and this very morning started reading Giovanni’s Room- the first two chapters are very compelling. Thanks so much.
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It’s a wonderful book. It’s short, I’m sure you’ll like it.
I think I’ll read Giovanni’s Room one day too.
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Sounds like a very interesting read, and your review of it is very in-depth. Will surely include the book in my TBR list.
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It’s truly a wonderful book. It’s interesting, lovely and excellent from a literary point of view. A gem.
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Thanks for mentioning the documentary, I will see if I can find it, I recently watched another one, What Happened, Miss Simone? about the singer and classical pianist Nina Simone, who also lived her latter years in France and I believe died here, I think she like Baldwin, were of that era who were articulate at the time of the civil rights movement and then their souls were partly crushed by the death of Martin Luther King, as they seem to have disappeared after that. I imagine they knew and saw/supported each other while living in the south of France, I hope so. Oh, I just looked it up and she lived near Aix, in Carry-le-Rouet, such a beautiful and quiet coastal town on the Cote Bleu.
I enjoyed Beale Street, my first encounter with Baldwin, I find him a fascinating and compelling character himself, having also seen a few videos where he is debating with other intellectuals. I’m going to read more of him definitely. Thank you for linking to my review too.
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I really recommend watching this documentary. You shouldn’t have problems finding it in France since it’s a French co-production. It’s the kind of things you’ll find at your local mediathèque.
I believe that Baldwin was attached to France, yes. He felt free here. There are interviews of him in French on the INA site.
In the documentary, he mentions how shocked he was by three violent deaths. (Medgar Evers, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King)
I’m going to read more of him too. Giovanni’s Room should be the next one.
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I love your passion in this review. As a white man these books leave me feeling both guilty and frustrated. I don’t know what to do. If I was a Black man I would be a Malcolm X-er (I hope! My political convictions are much more radical than my political actions). As I reader, I identify with the protagonist and then feel bad when things work out badly.
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Thanks.
I don’t feel guilty when I read these books but terribly frustrated. This book wasn’t an exception especially with the impossibility of the crime due to the distance. Of course, Baldwin made a case that could leave no doubt about Fonny’s innocence in the reader’s mind.
He’s a perfect example.
Rosa Parks had no skeleton in her closet when she refused to leave her seat in that bus: she was also a perfect case for the NAACP.
I suppose it’s the same technique here. Ensure there’s no room for any grey area or doubt to have an undisputable example to show the horror of the system.
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Great review, Emma – and thanks for linking to my piece, very kind of you. It’s such a potent novel, isn’t it? Even though it was first published in the mid seventies, it still feels urgent and relevant today. I was particularly struck by the experiences of Fonny’s friend, Daniel, at the hands of the police – a scene brought to life so powerfully in Barry Jenkins’ film.
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You’re welcome, Jacqui.
This novel will stay with me. I’ve started to recommend it around me, I’ll see if I brought it a reader or two.
Daniel’s experience with the police is terrible. They needed a culprit, they fabricated one. His case is unbelievable. Accused of stealing a case when he doesn’t even know how to drive. As I said to Bill in a previous comment, I think it’s a technique used by Baldwin: build cases that are so ludicrous that the innocence of the character is obvious and the unfairness of the system even more apparent.
I thought that the film was very good, that the feelings between the characters were shining through quiet scenes. Very touching. I also liked the family unit around the young couple, the strength of Tish’s parent and of Fonny’s father.
The scene in Tish’s house when she announces her pregnancy to Fonny’s family is shocking. It’s a violence that is even more unbearable than the cop’s violence towards Fonny. Hatred and contempt from your own family, the people who are supposed to love you unconditionnally is really a low blow.
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I watched the film version of this very recently and wasn’t at all enamoured with it – I did wonder if it was a poor version of the book
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We’ll have to disagree on this one. The film is a good version of the book. Maybe this one is not for you.
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I saw the film, and liked it a lot. I thought the whole situation was well handled, though not all in my party liked it as much as I did. I wondered how close it was to the book. As you say the violence at the announcement of the pregnancy WAS worse in a way because you should feel safe and loved in your family and own community. I’m not sure what Baldwin feels about religion – is he anti-all religion, or just that narrow-minded fire-and-brimstone style?
I wish I could find time to read it, but your review has been the next best thing (even if it has taken me a couple of weeks to get to it!!)
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It’s a short book and it’s worth the reading time.
The film is a good version of the book. Baldwin was the son of a preacher and I think his vision of religion changed during his life, if I consider the difference between If Beale Street Could Talk and Go Tell It on the Mountain.
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Thanks Emma, I had a feeling he was the son of a preacher, but couldn’t recollect.
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