The Columbia Guide to Contemporary African American Fiction

The Columbia Guide to Contemporary African American Fiction

Columbia Guides to Literature Since 1945

The Columbia Guides to Literature Since 1945

The Columbia Guide to the Literatures of Eastern Europe Since 1945, ed.

Harold B. Segel

The Columbia Guide to Contemporary African American Fiction

Darryl Dickson-Carr

Columbia University Press

New York

Columbia University Press

Publishers Since 1893

New York Chichester, West Sussex

cup.columbia.edu

Copyright © 2005 Columbia University Press

All rights reserved

E-ISBN 978-0-231-51069-1

The index of this book was made possible by a Research and Creative Activity grant from the Department of English at the Florida State University.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Dickson-Carr, Darryl, 1968–

The Columbia guide to contemporary African American fiction / Darryl Dickson-Carr.

   p. cm. —(Columbia guides to literature since 1945)

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 0–231–12472–4 (cloth : alk. paper)

   1. American fiction—African American authors—History and criticism—Handbooks, manuals, etc. 2. American fiction—20th century—History and criticism—Handbooks, manuals, etc. 3. African Americans—Intellectual life—20th century—Handbooks, manuals, etc. 4. African Americans in literature—Handbooks, manuals, etc. I. Dickson-Carr, Darryl, 1968– II. Title. III. Series.

PS374.N4D533 2005

813’.540986073—dc22

2005045454

A Columbia University Press E-book.

CUP would be pleased to hear about your reading experience with this e-book at [email protected].

For Carol

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Overview

A–Z Guide to Contemporary African American Fiction

Selected Bibliography

Index

Preface

The primary goal of this guide is to introduce the reader to the literature, careers, and critical issues surrounding major African American fiction authors published since 1970. This period witnessed an explosion of literary talent from American authors of African descent. As hundreds of these authors made an impressive and permanent mark upon the publishing world, they enjoyed an unprecedented level of attention from academics and critics alike. As a group, these authors clearly owe great debts to previous literary movements, but they have also carved out their own distinctive niches that have irreversibly transformed the landscape of African American literature and its reception in both American publishing and the academy. The reader will be able to trace, whether by randomly sampling this guide’s 164 entries or by reading it in its entirety from start to finish, how African American fiction became a centerpiece of American literary history at the end of the twentieth century even as it remained the site of celebration, contestation, diversity, and no small amount of controversy.

Each period within the history of African American literature contains its own loosely definable agenda. Most African American authors have sought to provide at least a glimpse into the varied experiences of African Americans and how those experiences, ranging from the joyous and celebratory to the cataclysmic and horrific, have forced America to transform itself into a nation that better reflects the promises and ideals of democracy. My ultimate goal is to demonstrate how the most recent wave of African American fiction and, to a slightly lesser extent, its criticism best reflect this often-tortured, yet endlessly fascinating transformation.

This guide reviews authors, movements, institutions, and publications that emerged between 1970 and 2000. I begin at 1970 primarily because that year was the crux of a number of major shifts in African American politics. The philosophy of integration and pacifism that Martin Luther King Jr. and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference represented were slowly but inexorably supplanted by African American cultural nationalism beginning in the mid-1960s, inaugurating what is now known as the post–Civil Rights era, which extends until the present. The era that most Americans consider the apex of Civil Rights activism began with the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas Supreme Court decision and ended with the assassination of King, although the fight for Civil Rights truly began many decades earlier, arguably at the end of legal chattel slavery in 1865. The modern push for equality, however, in which King participated and for which he has become a popular icon, arguably began with the Brown decision and had its first major victory in the Montgomery, Alabama, bus boycott of 1955. King’s assassination in 1968 meant that one of the most important eras in American history—rivaled only by the Revolutionary and Civil wars and the decades leading to them—lost a crucial leader, one who stood on the side of hope and peace. The vacuum he left was filled with many voices questioning the efficacy of the strategy and practice of the nonviolent direct action that defined the modern Civil Rights movement. Among these voices were many African American intellectuals and writers who constituted the Black Arts Movement.

In African American literary arts, the radicalism of the Black Arts Movement advocated by such luminary writers and critics as Imamu Amiri Baraka (né LeRoi Jones), Hoyt Fuller, Addison Gayle, Nikki Giovanni, Sonia Sanchez, Carolyn Rodgers, Maulana Ron Karenga, and Gwendolyn Brooks brought about a sea change in the literature’s scope and content. As we shall see below, debates regarding the merits of pursuing art for art’s (or the artist’s) sake versus creating socially conscious art have raged for over a century among African American intellectuals. By the late 1960s, though, the latter position of the debate was ascendant as black politics became radicalized in the wake of racism’s continuing entrenchment, the demise of African colonialism, and the deaths of such leaders as Malcolm X and Medgar Evers. Literature with a more proletarian or grassroots orientation became popular, as did a sort of radical chic. This did not mean that careful artistic craft was in abeyance, but it did mean that someone interested in African American literature in 1970 would have found very little being published that resembled what Richard Wright called, in his famous criticism of the Harlem Renaissance, humble novels, poems, and plays, prim and decorous ambassadors who went a-begging to white America.* Instead, many of African American literature’s most prominent artists openly advocated various forms of revolution, from armed conflict to the ideological transformations of cultural nationalism.

Most obviously, 1970 also marked the end of the 1960s, in which the ideological foundations for most of the literature to follow were laid. In 1970 alone, many landmark novels, fiction anthologies, and bibliographies emerged from the writers and editors whose work has attracted extensive critical and popular interest: Ishmael Reed (19 Necromancers from Now), Alice Walker (The Third Life of Grange Copeland), Toni Morrison (The Bluest Eye), Darwin Turner (Afro-American Writers). The years immediately following witnessed the publication of many texts that have since ascended to the current African American literary canon: The Black Aesthetic, by Addison Gayle (1971); Ishmael Reed’s Mumbo Jumbo (1972); Charles Johnson’s Faith and the Good Thing (1974); Toni Morrison’s Sula (1974), and so on. In short, 1970 marked the beginning of a contemporary flourish that has never truly subsided.

Critical and scholarly attention to African American authors has grown in the last three decades to the point that it is now virtually unthinkable for major literary journals specializing in American literature to ignore black authors. Most critical appraisals and analyses of these authors are now sympathetic, due in large part to the infusion of African American scholars into academia. Regardless of levels of sympathy, the theories of such African American scholars as W. E. B. Du Bois, Toni Morrison, Henry Louis Gates Jr., Barbara Smith, Hortense Spillers, Houston A. Baker Jr., Arnold Rampersad, Audre Lorde, Alice Walker, and Wahneema Lubiano frequently inform most critiques of African American literature. Hundreds of monographs, essay collections, and individual book chapters have been devoted to African American authors since 1970, and since 1996, several major anthologies and critical companions and guides have been published to provide the beginning student of African American literature with quick and easy access to the primary and secondary material in the field. This Columbia Guide is but one of these resources and should be considered as much a complement to the others as a gateway to this rapidly expanding world.

Each of the entries for different authors, institutions, major publications, and other critical terms opens this world to the reader and suggests a few additional readings that will expand upon the issues the entry raises. My objective is not so much to give a complete biography or history of a subject as it is to touch upon the subject’s keynotes. Therefore, instead of reproducing a complete biography of Toni Morrison, which could be found in any one of a handful of sources, it is more productive to discuss a few key events from Morrison’s life and career that illustrate why she has been a significant part of contemporary African American literature for the last three decades, then point the reader toward the best biographies.

The reader will also note that some author entries are much longer than others. The length of individual entries is due, as one might expect, to a particular author’s eminence in African American literature or, perhaps, to the number and complexity of an author’s works. Of course, this rule does not always hold; some authors may very well be major figures in African American literature, but since this guide is a resource for African American fiction, an author best known for her contributions to poetry or for his critical or journalistic career may be given but a short treatment. In such cases, I have taken pains to acknowledge the author’s relevance to other literary forms but have not dwelt on them, unless such attention would help illuminate the author’s contributions to prose fiction.

Although this volume is a guide to African American fiction, it is not exhaustive. That is to say, I do not attempt to provide an entry for every African American who has written fiction. With but a few exceptions, I have chosen to exclude at least two identifiable genres from the volume: specialized religious fiction, or fiction written specifically for an audience converted to a particular religion, usually Christianity; and romances. While the overwhelming majority of African Americans profess religious beliefs—most frequently Christian and Muslim, in that order—I assume that those seeking a guide to fiction with an explicitly Christian bent, for example, would have little trouble finding one via such other sources as their clergy or fellow parishioners. This is not to say that the theme of religion may not be found herein. The fact that religion has played and continues to play an essential role in African American communities has inspired countless African American authors to compose stories and novels that draw from and reflect upon black spirituality in all its forms. With few exceptions, though, these works are not necessarily written specifically to proselytize or offer succor for the faithful. Instead, they give us an opportunity to learn about many different aspects of African American life and culture, with religion and spirituality but one part of that mosaic. This guide, then, is for those interested in these aspects as found in African American secular fiction.

I have opted to exclude romance fiction written by African Americans for the simple reason that the numbers of works and authors in this vein are far too numerous and not nearly distinct enough in most appreciable ways to warrant separate entries or close study, despite the fact that this area grew significantly in the last decade or so of the twentieth century. For my purposes, I define romance fiction as short stories and novels whose purpose is to explore the terrain of romantic relationships primarily, if not exclusively, for the purpose of entertainment. While these works are certainly popular among an extensive core audience, it is also safe to say that despite the real talent of many writers working in this vein, detailed descriptions of these works would be repetitive and perhaps superfluous. The reader might object that some of the authors included could be classified as writers of romance fiction, to the extent that they write about African American relationships, including love and romance. I argue instead that any author or work included in this guide, including those who might seem to write to a formula or who stick to certain popular generic conventions of romance fiction, at the very least aspire to artistry either by virtue of the careful composition of their writing or by clear attempts to write artistically, politically, and socially challenging art. The few exceptions I have consciously made to this rule, then, are authors who have tried to challenge the limits of their chosen genres and to break out of generic formulae.

Fiction will be understood as meaning short stories, novellas, and novels. Unless they are directly relevant to our understanding of fiction or a particular author’s oeuvre, the Guide will not focus upon dramatic works and poetry. It will, however, discuss and utilize major nonfiction works that have been instrumental in altering the study of African American fiction.

One of the key purposes for this guide, then, is to help the reader make such distinctions. Although I admittedly have my favorite authors within the greater tradition of African American fiction, I have tried to be as objective as possible in my summaries and assessments of different authors. Every author listed has intrinsic value stemming from her or his sincere efforts to write to an intelligent reading audience. As is true of any type of literature, many authors strive toward an eclectic mix of artistic standards or ideological purposes, while others write primarily to entertain, and still others wish to balance the two. In fact, over the course of preparing this guide, it became abundantly clear that many of the most popular African American authors currently writing have a substantial stake in lending a certain degree of social consciousness to their works by incorporating plot lines that confront a number of pertinent social issues. These may range from the drug epidemics of the 1980s and 1990s and the concomitant War on Drugs that led to a number of severe social problems; the legacy of the Civil Rights movement in all its cultural, political, and economic implications; the Gay Rights movement, including (but not limited to) the rise of HIV/AIDS and its effects upon African American and gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered communities; the women’s movement; racism’s continuing impact upon African American communities; and so on. These plotlines may be the crux of some works; in others they might be faintly discernible—or poorly developed—thoughts that do not always affect the overarching plot.

How to Use This Guide

I wrote the alphabetical entries that follow to provide the reader with an introduction to the subject, author, or work at hand. Each author entry in the Guide provides: basic biographical information for the author; a summary of the direction, importance, or effects of his or her work; short summaries of minor works; longer discussions of individual works that have had a significant impact upon the literary world, as each case may warrant; and a paragraph or two listing and occasionally annotating the books, essays, or articles that the reader might turn to for more detailed information. These last paragraphs function as bibliographies for individual authors, but they are not meant to be exhaustive catalogues. For many of the newer or younger authors, especially those who began writing in the mid- to late 1990s, the only articles to be found are book reviews. I have opted to exclude listings of book reviews, with two significant exceptions: 1) if the review in question is especially lengthy and informative, or 2) if the author in question is a major figure. Colson Whitehead, for example, promises to become an important author in both contemporary African American literature and the broader historical tradition. Some of the reviews of his two novels help shed light upon his significance and therefore have been included or quoted.

Interspersed with the author entries are terms, subjects, and individual books that have made a deep impression upon the greater field of contemporary African American literature and literary studies. Since I use or refer to many of the terms or subjects freely throughout the remainder of the alphabetized entries, the reader would likely benefit from having relatively brief definitions or histories. Individual books that merit their own entries fit into at least one of several categories. They are either extremely well known, frequently taught at high school and college levels, highly influential, studied regularly by scholars, or—in the estimation of an overwhelming number of professional critics and scholars—the most universally acclaimed. A few scholarly works have made it into this group due to their exceptional impact upon the field of African American literary studies, which grew and developed rapidly in the 1970s and 1980s. The reader is encouraged, however, to refer to this volume’s bibliography for a more complete listing of scholarly works.

The bibliography that follows the A–Z section is a listing of anthologies, critical books, book chapters, and articles that discuss the directions African American literature has taken throughout its history, but especially in the twentieth century’s last three decades. Most studies of African American fiction published in the last thirty years of the twentieth century consist of either discussions of single authors, a few closely related authors (not all of whom may be African American), and general discussions of African American literary history. I have annotated a number of entries that are particularly outstanding for their ability to shed light on either general African American literary history or the period covered by this volume. Single-author studies are not included.

A Note on Usage of Terms

Before proceeding further, some other commonly used terms warrant definition and clarification. I move interchangeably here between the terms African and black, with the former term used most frequently. African American is the formal term that many native-born Americans of African descent have chosen as the most accurate to describe both their heritage and identity, in the absence of precise genealogies extending back to West Africa. Since relatively few enslaved Africans were allowed to maintain fully their cultural traditions and language in the North American form of slavery, African American thus signifies a person whose ancestry is rooted in the African continent and whose phenotype, culture, and legal or personal identity, while containing contributions from European, Semitic, Asian or other peoples, reflects the black African element. This term was intended to replace or clarify such earlier terms as black, Black American (capitalized or not), Afro-American, Aframerican, Negro American (again, capitalized or not), colored, and so on. The identity itself may be a product of conscious self-identification or the sometimes-arbitrary categorization that frequently frustrates those American authors of African descent who might choose to reject some African American cultural traditions. For the sake of brevity, I choose to include under these labels all American-born authors of African descent, as well as those Caribbean authors of African descent who have adopted the United States as their home, whether formally or informally.

On this last point, selecting the authors to be included in this volume, and therefore under the rubric, required making an unsatisfactory but necessary distinction. Although I recognize the obvious fact that the United States of America is certainly not all of the Americas, that blacks in the Caribbean would, in the broadest sense, also be African American, and that blacks in the United States share some common historical experiences and some common cultural practices, they also have some distinct, complex differences that even the most cursory understanding of Caribbean nations’ history would highlight. I would not, therefore, consider an author who lives and works primarily in a Caribbean nation an African American, if the latter half of the term means of the United States, even if that author had spent considerable time in the United States. I should also imagine that a native Jamaican author, for example, would be insulted by my conflating her life and her nation’s history with those of black Americans in the same way she might object to the omnibus label Caribbean writer.

I am also equally comfortable with the term black when used as a synonym for African American, since African Americans still accept and use it widely, as do those outside of African American communities. The acceptance of both terms has depended largely upon substantial shifts in African American cultural politics, some of which I discuss below. Except when it is used as part of a proper name or title, though, I do not capitalize black, again in keeping with current common usage. I do not use decidedly outmoded terms such as Negro or colored unless, again, I am quoting these terms as part of a name, title, or literary passage. On some occasions I use the term people of color as a general descriptor of the major ethnic minority groups in the United States of America, including African Americans, Asian Americans, and Hispanics/Latinos or Chicanos, among others. While the question of who or what is African American is difficult to answer and will be addressed further in various entries within, the definition above serves as a general understanding.

Finally, I tend to place the term race in quotation marks to signify the fact that race is a commonly accepted but finally problematic term that connotes biological divisions between human beings. Modern science has soundly disproved race as a biological reality, yet it remains a social one for millions of people of color in the United States, to say nothing of the rest of the world. Race is therefore a falsehood, but it is one that people frequently rely upon to describe phenotypical and cultural characteristics that ultimately transcend racial divisions. My quotation marks indicate an ironic usage, which I hope will help inspire the reader to question the term’s meaning.

Abbreviations

Some commonly mentioned or cited texts and institutions have been abbreviated after their first appearances in the main body of the entries. These include:

* Richard Wright, Blueprint for Negro Writing, The New Challenge: A Literary Quarterly 2, no. 2 (1937): 53.

Acknowledgments

When James Raimes of Columbia University Press first approached me about writing a reference book on contemporary African American fiction, I found the task to be in the abstract a fun, yet challenging one. As I delved further into the project’s research and writing, I found that challenge growing but never entirely eclipsing the pleasure. For that, I have to credit James and his immediate successor, Plaegian Alexander, both of whom remained patient and encouraging as I worked out problems in this volume’s assembly and composition. Editors James Warren and Juree Sondker were equally professional and indispensable in all their guidance and counsel. Michael Haskell diligently shepherded the manuscript through the copyediting and proofing processes. I extend my gratitude to the entire staff at the press.

Equally important were the patience and encouragement of my colleagues at the Florida State University, where I received a Developing Scholar Award (2002–2003) to help defray the expenses associated with this project. I am indebted to the English department chair, Hunt Hawkins, for granting a course release to ease the writing process, and to the department’s office staff—especially Carolyn Morgan—for helping me acquire resources and for protecting my time. I am particularly grateful for the ears of my comrades-in-arms, Christopher Shinn and Barry Faulk, who loaned their empathy and constructive criticism during many late-night sessions at the office. Special thanks go to Lisa C. Lakes, whose assistance in reviewing and correcting the manuscript in the later stages was invaluable. Finally, this volume simply would not have been possible if my wife, Carol Dickson-Carr, had not carved out time and space for me to work on it for long stretches by watching over our daughter, Maya Carr. For that reason, I have happily dedicated this book to her.

Overview

The three decades between 1970 and 2000 constituted the most productive and successful period in African American literary history. Hundreds of African American authors, including many who were but very young children in 1970, began or continued illustrious writing and publishing careers, transforming the face of American literature itself. Prior to 1970, very few African American authors could hope to sell more than a few thousand copies of their books. By the mid-1990s, sales in the hundreds of thousands for individual works, lucrative film options, and author tours marked by jam-packed readings and signings were commonplace for several dozen writers. Their success has both inspired and enabled hundreds of black authors to begin writing and to create some of the most remarkable fiction of the last quarter century and beyond. The rewards have not been merely financial: African American authors also began winning some of the top literary prizes in the United States and in the world, including the Nobel and Pulitzer Prizes; American Book, National Book, PEN/Faulkner, and PEN/Hemingway Awards; and berths on many publications’ Best of lists. Book clubs and specialty booksellers, operating either in traditional brick-and-mortar establishments or on the Internet, have proliferated. African American literature is now widely studied at institutions of higher learning worldwide, and key fictional works by contemporary African American authors, particularly Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, Ralph Ellison, Alice Walker, John Edgar Wideman, and Gloria Naylor, may be found on the syllabi of courses in American literature, multiethnic literature, women’s studies, sociology, and—naturally—African American studies courses. Before l970, African American fiction was but a footnote in the estimation of most experts on American literature. By 1980, such prize-winning bestsellers as Alex Haley’s Roots (1976) and Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon (1978) had simultaneously appealed to and sparked widespread interest in African American genealogy and history, along with serious scholarly attention. By 1990, African American fiction had captured great fame and controversy through Alice Walker’s The Color Purple (1983), Morrison’s Beloved (1987), Ishmael Reed’s Reckless Eyeballing (1985), Sherley Anne Williams’s Dessa Rose (1985), and Terry McMillan’s Mama (1987), and African American literary studies became one of the most exciting fields in the academy. By 2000, books by African American authors were routinely selling hundreds of thousands, and occasionally millions of copies, an African American had finally won the Nobel Prize in literature (Toni Morrison, 1993), and African American literary studies had become an institution with many stalwart defenders. For today’s enlightened student of American literature, African American literature is virtually impossible to ignore.

Not all developments for African American fiction have been so positive. Since Phillis Wheatley published her groundbreaking Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral in 1773, critical assessments of African American literature’s artistic merits have never been wholly positive, and they have frequently been quite hostile to the direction and purpose of the majority of authors. Two hundred years after Wheatley’s first book, African American authors wishing to portray black lives both realistically and sympathetically in works inspired by the Black Arts Movement of the 1960s often met with withering hostility from a critical establishment skeptical of the heightened political consciousness of the early 1970s. As more African American critics have found their independent voices and had their say within recent decades, whether in mainstream publications or from the halls of academia, this situation has changed for the better. Today, however, it is still all too rare for anyone outside of a small but growing group of recent black authors to receive the types of close, careful scholarly examinations their works deserve. Equally troubling is the fact that many of the best authors of the 1970s, including John A. Williams, John Oliver Killens, Fran Ross, Nathan Heard, Clarence Major, Hal Bennett, and William Melvin Kelley, find their best work either out of print entirely or in print for merely the shortest stints. Nevertheless, if it were not for the enormous interest that newer authors had brought to African American literature, these veteran authors and their forgotten classics might never have returned to print at all.

Although the number of African American authors writing and publishing in the 1990s exploded beyond all expectations, this growth had at least as much to do with the desire of publishing houses to capitalize upon the success of such popular authors as Terry McMillan as it was a sign of a new creative spirit among African American writers. Many of the works published in that boom, while certainly accessible, smart, and frequently ambitious, did not always aspire to do much more than provide solid, enjoyable, and entertaining fiction. Of course, this is not necessarily a negative trait. While the public may still obtain most of its dominant images of African Americans from other media—particularly film, music, and television—the ascendance of African American fiction means that more facets of African American life and literary expression now have a chance to be published, read, heard, and appreciated than ever before.

Since 1970, for example, African American women authors have become dominant forces in creating and contributing to the larger tradition after many decades of being virtually silenced by outright neglect from publishers who considered them irrelevant. As with so much literature by and about women, that silence has been broken, giving voice to the infinite complexities of African American women’s lives, including women’s roles as leaders, creators of culture, mothers, lovers, among many others. These works have therefore helped make various forms of feminist critique available to the public for discussion and helped foster change. Equally important, these works vastly expand a potential medium for women readers of all backgrounds to see their lives and issues alternately represented, affirmed, and challenged. Similarly, black gay, lesbian, and bisexual authors and characters are now almost commonplace in African American literature, brought out of the closets of silence, invisibility, and marginalization that once dominated their identities and desires. Science fiction by such authors as Octavia Butler, Samuel R. Delany, and Tananarive Due has grown in popularity, as has the detective fiction genre best represented by Walter Mosley. These authors have, in turn, placed such issues as class differences, police brutality, slavery, the Civil Rights movement, and the hidden histories of local African American communities into inspired fictional settings that help give new life to a history whose hidden stories are rapidly being rediscovered.

Consider also that popular works have helped to increase the active African American reading audience into the millions through the loyal readerships that such authors as Terry McMillan, Connie Briscoe, Eric Jerome Dickey, E. Lynn Harris, April Sinclair, and Sheneska Jackson enjoy. While readership rates among African Americans remains behind that of other groups,* popular fiction has improved it nonetheless. Publishing houses that once dismissed manuscripts by and about African Americans out of a widespread belief that blacks do not read books have been proven wrong time and again. The doors of mainstream publication and distribution may remain open indefinitely to black authors.

Of course, a caveat applies to these upbeat views as well. African Americans still own few presses and therefore have relatively little control over how and where their works are marketed and distributed. These same authors have long struggled with the position of privilege that liberal white Americans, whether embodied by antislavery abolitionists or commercialpress editors, have frequently occupied. This position has historically meant that whites have assumed greater authority to speak on behalf or in support of African Americans than African Americans have had for themselves. In the literary world, this privilege is not merely symbolic; it determines the types of texts that are published or, to be more specific, the types of narratives about African American lives that see print. Critics as diverse as Henry Louis Gates Jr., Barbara E. Johnson, W. Lawrence Hogue, and J. Lee Greene have argued that the goal of many African American authors and texts has been, and should be, to avoid the fallacy of seeing value only in those narratives that reaffirm the supremacy of white Western cultures by emulating them and attempting to be the same.* Instead, countless African American authors have used their creative abilities to write against or parody—to signify upon, in black colloquial terms—the same Western traditions that have attempted to write African Americans out of history. In the contemporary period, these authors have often sought to recover that history, to reclaim and transform it, by positing the diversity, complexity, and inextricability of African American cultures within it.

The purpose of this overview is to participate in this project by highlighting the diversity of African American literature throughout its history. What follows is an attempt to do in a relatively small number of pages what the professor of African American literature typically has to do over the course of a single semester, quarter, or trimester: give a short history of African American literature and of the key historical and literary events that have fed the minds and imaginations of the authors included in this volume’s main A–Z reference section. That story includes a history and examination of those events from the 1970s to the 1990s that set that period apart from larger African American literary traditions, while simultaneously writing it into them.

African American Literature Through the 1960s

Even the most cursory glance at the breadth of African American literature reveals two facts: First, African American experiences have varied widely since Africans were forcibly brought to the Americas. Second, these experiences are bound by African Americans’ eternal desires to continue surviving and thriving in the Americas. This desire stems primarily from the long and extremely difficult period of indentured servitude and chattel slavery (1619–1865), the systems under which the overwhelming majority of African Americans lived and struggled until 1865, when slavery was abolished in the United States with the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution.

Both before and after the abolition of slavery, African American literature was a flourishing field. Most of the published literature consisted of nonfiction, with the slave narrative being the dominant form of literary expression until the end of the Civil War in 1865. The prominence of this particular form had everything to do with the cause it supported: the abolition of slavery. Slave narratives were meant to arouse in the reader—often a Northern, white, Christian woman—righteous indignation toward the physical, psychological, and sexual brutalities commonplace under slavery. Ideally, this would in turn arouse support for the abolitionist movement, resulting in the eradication of slavery and the installation of true equality for all Americans. What little fiction existed aided the abolitionist cause as well, as free African Americans saw the artistic development of fictional texts, and the novel in particular, as less important than addressing the ongoing crisis of slavery itself. This does not mean, however, that African American literature lacked artistic ambition and achievement. Many of the most famous autobiographical slave narratives, including Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave, Written by Himself (1845), Harriet Jacobs’s Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl (1861), and The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African (1814) have become bona fide classics in American literature and cornerstones of African American literature and literary studies. The same may be said of the fiction. William Wells Brown’s Clotel; or, The President’s Daughter: A Narrative of Slave Life in the United States (1853), Harriet Wilson’s Our Nig; or, Sketches from the life of a Free Black, in a Two-Story White House, North, Showing That Slavery’s Shadows Fall Even There (1859) were not only the first two novels by African Americans (Brown’s was the first but was not published in the United States until 1860) but also two antebellum works that condemned slavery, especially the practice of miscegenation via rape. In addition, such novelists and short story authors as Martin R. Delany, Frances E. W. Harper, and Victor Séjour were notable pioneers of prose fiction and powerful essayists. Each author’s fictional subject matter necessarily differed from the others, but autobiographical portrayals of the complexities and common horrors and frustrations of enslaved and free life frequently dominated the field. Both fictional and nonfictional works, then, were explicit vehicles for political and ideological purposes.

Within this group, it is safe to say that proslavery sentiments were understandably nonexistent, except as positions to be soundly rejected. While some nonfiction accounts of slavery looked upon a select few slaveholders as relatively beneficent individuals, such perspectives in a work of fiction would have been unthinkable so long as millions of African Americans remained enslaved. Yet subtle philosophical differences remained among African American authors. The most notable were, and continue to be, between male and female authors or between authors of either gender who advocated more radical or more gradual means to end slavery and other forms of oppression.

These differences amongst antebellum works were the natural forebears of the literature published from the post–Civil War Reconstruction period through at least the Harlem Renaissance. The 1880s and 1890s witnessed the rise of Charles W. Chesnutt, whose highly successful Conjure Woman stories blended the conventions of the local color genre, with its emphases on the quaintness of provincials and their concomitant dialects, and African American folklore. Less successful were Chesnutt’s later novels and nondialect short works, primarily because they tended to confront contemporary racial issues in ways that were offensive to white sensibilities. Such novels as The House Behind the Cedars (1900) and The Marrow of Tradition (1901) failed to find a sizeable audience for their complex interrogations of racial definitions and categories at the time, although scholars now consider them perceptive, if flawed classics. Chesnutt’s contemporary, Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872–1906), considered the most significant African American poet since the eighteenth century’s Phillis Wheatley, wrote several novels and short stories that reflected the same alternating pattern of concern with African American cultures, though most of his novelistic output spent little time dealing with black characters.

A criticism frequently leveled against Chesnutt’s and Dunbar’s works, as well as those of James Weldon Johnson, James D. Carrothers, and other contemporaries, is whether each author’s use of black dialect and inclusion of stereotypical black characters qualified as acquiescence to the generally ugly racial climate of the years between Reconstruction and the Harlem Renaissance. The issue was closely related to the ongoing debates over the direction and strategies of African American political, economic, and social progress that began in antebellum times. Some of the era’s most prominent political voices were Booker T. Washington (1856–1915), founder and president of Tuskegee Institute in Tuskegee, Alabama; William Edward Burghardt Du Bois (1868–1963), a founding father of American empirical sociology and one of the most prolific African American activists, essayists, and scholars of the twentieth century; and Ida B. Wells-Barnett (1862–1931), an investigative journalist and political activist.

These figures initiated a debate regarding African American progress in their major nonfiction works. Washington’s rise to fame and power, narrated in his powerful autobiography, Up from Slavery (1901), was a product of the program of self-help, thrift, business, and practical, vocational education that he instituted at Tuskegee as a model for African American progress. Washington’s approach to education, civil rights, and black leadership appealed to a wide cross-section of African Americans and whites, particularly in the South, for its stress upon the manual arts, the importance of friendship between the races, and a more gradual movement towards civic equality. At the same time, Washington stirred controversy for his concession of African Americans’ civil rights, particularly as delineated in his famous speech at the Cotton States Exposition in Atlanta, Georgia, in 1895. Known as the Atlanta Compromise, Washington’s address brought him great prestige and power both in the South and in Washington, D.C., on all matters related to African American progress. Simultaneously, however, such rising leaders and intellectuals as Du Bois later argued that Washington’s tendency to avoid demands for civil rights, suffrage, and a combination of both industrial and liberal arts education contributed to the rapid disenfranchisement of African Americans in the wake of 1896’s landmark Plessy v. Ferguson Supreme Court decision, which made segregation of public accommodations legal. Washington, however, was virtually the only African American leader able to work closely with American political figures to help protect African Americans’ struggles for equality, frequently behind the scenes. His model of education at Tuskegee, duplicated at hundreds of Negro colleges, also enabled many thousands of African Americans to obtain educations that did contribute to the growth of real economic progress. To this day, Washington remains a controversial figure who helped define a model of African American leadership that remains attractive for its appeals to common principles and optimism.

Du Bois and Wells-Barnett, on the other hand, offered an increasingly popular alternative to Washington’s leadership, stressing civil rights, activism, and full citizenship for all African Americans. Du Bois was among the thirty-one founders of the openly anti-Washington Niagara Movement for Civil Rights, which first met at Niagara Falls in Ontario, Canada, on July 10, 1905. Almost four years later, on May 31, 1909, both Du Bois and Wells-Barnett were among those who met in New York City to transform the Civil Rights goals of the Niagara Movement into the platform and bylaws of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), an interracial organization devoted to radical resistance to segregation and all forms of racial discrimination. The NAACP became much more than an organ of political activity. Via its journal, The Crisis (1910–present), originally edited by Du Bois and (by 1919) his indispensable literary editor, Jessie Redmon Fauset, by the latter half of the 1910s the NAACP became one of African America’s key sources of fresh literary talent. In addition, Du Bois’s classic work The Souls of Black Folk (1903), a complex mix of sociology, political critique, history, personal essay, and fiction, was itself an enormous influence upon subsequent debates on African American life, literature, and culture. It includes the crucial essay, Of Our Spiritual Strivings, in which Du Bois applied the concept of double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of the world that looks on in amused contempt and pity, to the African American collective psyche. The metaphor of double-consciousness is but one Du Bois employs to argue that the problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color-line, an idea that informs all of his early work and has influenced sociologists, writers, and activists through the present. Du Bois’s arguments conveyed gracefully the struggle within many African Americans to reconcile the role of pariah that American society imposed upon them with their own culture and feelings of self-worth.

Du Bois’s conception had a profound effect upon the fiction of the next significant movement in African American literature, the New Negro or Harlem Renaissance (ca. 1919–1940). One of the most prolific and artistically sound collections of literature by and about African Americans to date, it has been surpassed in significance only by the flowering of African American literature and arts that budded in the 1960s and reached full bloom after 1970. The New Negro Renaissance was a product of many different elements, all essential, yet none so dominant as to be the single definitive cause. Racial tensions were at one of their highest points since Reconstruction after World War I, in which hundreds of thousands of black soldiers served and fought valiantly, albeit primarily under French command after U.S. military commanders refused to give black soldiers any significant opportunities to prove their abilities. Both the soldiers’ valor and the commanders’ resistance helped to rally the pride of millions of African Americans who had heard of black soldiers’ heroism in that horrendous conflict. The postwar tensions exploded in the Red Summer of 1919, which saw thousands of antiblack lynchings and riots in hundreds of American cities and towns as communities throughout the nation attempted to move African Americans back to their prewar status as second-class citizens. This repression combined with the growth of the industrial might of the United States and numerous severe agricultural blights in the South to spur the Great Migration of African Americans from the South to other regions in the nation, but particularly to the urban North. Over the six decades from the 1910s through the 1960s, approximately 7,000,000 African Americans moved from a homeland plagued by racial violence, boll weevil infestations, floods, and fluctuating prices for cotton—the crux of the South’s economy—to better economic and cultural opportunities