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Summary
Summary
A searing indictment of racial injustice in America - inspired by the life and work of James Baldwin - to help us understand the present moment, and imagine a new future into being
THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
'Not everything is lost. Responsibility cannot be lost, it can only be abdicated. If one refuses abdication, one begins again.' JAMES BALDWIN
A searing indictment of racial injustice in America - inspired by the life and work of James Baldwin - to help us understand the present moment, and imagine a new future into being
The struggles of Black Lives Matter and the attempt to achieve a new America have been challenged by the presidency of Donald Trump, a president whose time in the White House represents the latest failure of America to face the lies it tells itself about race.
For James Baldwin, a similar attempt to force a confrontation with the truth of America's racism came in the wake of the Civil Rights Movement, and was answered with the murders of Medgar Evers, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, Jr. In the years from the publication of The Fire Next Time in 1963 to that of No Name in the Street in 1972, Baldwin - the great creative artist, often referred to as 'the poet of the revolution' - became a more overtly political writer, a change that came at great professional and personal cost. But from that journey, Baldwin emerged with a sense of renewed purpose about the necessity of pushing forward in the face of disillusionment and despair.
America is at a crossroads. Drawing insight and inspiration from Baldwin's writings, Glaude suggests we can find hope and guidance through our own era of shattered promises and white retrenchment. Seamlessly combining biography with history, memoir and trenchant analysis of our moment, Begin Again bears witness to the difficult truth of race in America. It is at once a searing exploration that lays bare the tangled web of race, trauma and memory, and a powerful interrogation of what we all must ask of ourselves in order to call forth a more just future.
'Begin Again is that rare thing- an instant classic' Pankaj Mishra
'Incredibly moving and stirring' Diana Evans
Winner of the Stowe Prize 2021
A TIME 100 Must-Read Book of 2020
A Washington Post N otable Work of Non-Fiction 2020
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
This erudite take frames the election of Donald Trump to replace America's first black president as a "betrayal" analogous to the rise of Richard Nixon's "so-called silent majority" following the collapse of the civil rights movement and looks to James Baldwin's post-1968 writings for lessons in navigating the current political moment. Princeton University professor Glaude (Democracy in Black) explores how Baldwin's focus shifted from "the gaze of white America" to the "well-being and future of black people" in his later work, including No Name in the Street (1972) and the documentary film I Heard It Through the Grapevine (1982), and contends that living in Istanbul gave Baldwin the privacy necessary to "reimagine hope" in the wake of Martin Luther King Jr.'s assassination. Glaude also details Baldwin's complex relationship with the Black Power movement and his "prescient view" of the impact of mass incarceration on African-Americans. Applying these insights to the Black Lives Matter movement, debates over the removal of Confederate monuments, and modern-day identity politics, Glaude at times seems to be trying to fit three books into one. Nevertheless, he makes an effective and impassioned case for those dismayed by Trumpism to remain committed to building "a genuine democratic community where we all can flourish." Progressives and fans of Baldwin's work will savor this perceptive reappraisal. (Apr.)
Guardian Review
In 2018, two years after the "disastrous" 2016 US presidential election, Eddie Glaude Jr, professor of African American Studies at Princeton, made a pilgrimage to the house in Saint-Paul-de-Vence, in the south of France, where James Baldwin had lived for almost two decades, and which was now being knocked down to make way for luxury flats. Glaude, who has taught Baldwin for many years, had come in search of any surviving traces of the writer's refuge, and found most of it crumbling to dust. Only the writing room remained, "exposed for the sun to beat down on its side". Against the backdrop of bulldozers and the noise of sledgehammers, it "looked like the excavation of an ancient ruin", and called to mind "what Baldwin saw in the latter part of his life in the United States ¿ decay and wreckage alongside greed and selfishness". It became the impetus for Glaude to undertake an excavation of his own. He resolved to engage deeply with Baldwin's work, to try to think "with" him, in order to interrogate "how an insidious view of race, in the form of Trumpism, continues to frustrate any effort to 'achieve our country'", and then to write about it. The result is Begin Again, a book that is perfect for Baldwin aficionados or anyone experiencing staggering disbelief at America's state of disarray and trying to make sense of it. What sets this account apart is that Glaude understands how Baldwin's writing becomes a pathway for one's own thoughts; he's able to synthesise the novelist's work in a way that transcends summation or homage and becomes instead an act of breathtaking literary assimilation that acquires its own generative power. Early on, he quotes Baldwin's 1963 speech at Howard University: "It is the responsibility of the Negro writer to excavate the real history of this country ¿ We must tell the truth till we can no longer bear it." Baldwin took his own exhortation seriously, producing, according to Glaude, nearly 7,000 pages of writing distinguished by its astute, unflinching elegance, including Notes of a Native Son (1955) and The Fire Next Time (1963) - which established him as the literary consciousness of the African American resistance at a critical moment in the country's history. Glaude tracks an argument that originates in Baldwin's 1964 essay "The White Problem": "The idea of America is an outright lie" that has fostered a state of wilful blindness, involving not only a refusal to acknowledge that the US was founded on notions of white supremacy, but an interrelated insistence on the innocence of white Americans. Merging his own thoughts with Baldwin's, Glaude posits that the reason for America's troubles since the arrival of the first group of enslaved Africans has been its unwillingness to confront this lie: "any attempt" to do so "would be sabotaged by the fear that we may not be who we say we are". Instead of facing the truth about the genocidal horrors of its past, Americans pine for "national rituals of expiation". Thus, in the wake of any attempt to expose it, the lie always moves "quickly to reassert itself", prolonging a long practice of historical gaslighting. For Glaude, two previous turning points in American history - first, the civil war and reconstruction, and second, the black freedom struggle of the mid 20th century, both attempted to grapple with the lie, and were the occasions of "betrayal". Barack Obama's election to the presidency represented another turning point, but hopes were "betrayed", just as the civil rights movement was betrayed by the turn towards Reaganism. Now, the US faces another "moment of moral reckoning", the chance to "choose whether it will become a genuinely multiracial democracy", and Glaude suggests it should look to Baldwin's "navigation of his own disappointments" for guidance. He traces how the brutal response to the freedom struggle - in particular the murders of Medgar Evers, Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr - led to a shift in Baldwin's thinking, a recognition of the need to eschew "the burden of having to save white people first". Glaude concludes that the answer now is the same as it was then: the urgent need to "rid ourselves of the idea of white America", which is the only way to get off the "goddam racial hamster wheel". And he suggests that the first step involves what he called in his previous book Democracy in Black a "revolution of value": "This involves telling ourselves the truth about what we have done ¿ It requires centering a set of values that holds every human being sacred." In form, Begin Again is an essayistic marvel, circling and folding back on itself as Baldwin's musings in the past and Glaude's analysis of the present give meaning to each other. For example, Baldwin's understanding that we had to get "beyond" colour (misread by some as "boot-licking" self-hatred) leads to a discourse on modern identity politics through his contention that "categories can cut us off from the complexity of the world, and the complexity of ourselves", before coming back to the idea that we must tell the truth about who we are. Glaude's style works the same way Baldwin's did, achieving the kind of mimetic evocation of a mind at work that Montaigne described as "la peinture de la pensée" (the painting of thought), except that here we get two great minds for the price of one. In the US, the book was published in the wake of the killing of George Floyd. In the UK, it was released just after armed pro-Trump rioters staged the attack on the US Capitol, in the wake of which "the lie" was still everywhere in evidence, particularly the loud condemnatory chorus crying out: "This is not who we are! This is not America!" It's a persistent, predictable refrain, but as always it only raises the question: if it isn't America, why does it keep happening there? Glaude's attempt to answer this, via Baldwin, points to a way for his country to "imagine ourselves anew". It is a scholarly, deeply personal, and yet immensely readable meditation, a masterful reckoning with the "latest betrayal" of the American ideal.
Kirkus Review
A penetrating study of how the words of James Baldwin (1924-1987) continue to have (often painful) relevance today. Glaude, a frequent guest on political talk shows and chair of the African American Studies department at Princeton, has long read, admired, and taught Baldwin's work. In this follow-up to his 2016 book, Democracy in Black: How Race Still Enslaves the American Soul, the author mines that work to illustrate our ongoing inability to confront what both Baldwin and Glaude call the lie at the center of our American self-conception and how the nation refuses "to turn its back on racism and to reach for its better angels." Glaude employs a blend of genres: some biography of Baldwin (the text ends at Baldwin's gravesite), literary analysis of key works, memoir (first-person appears throughout), and pieces of American history, especially those events that many of us don't want to think about. Repeatedly, the author examines "the ugliness of who we are"--and of the men we have elected president (Reagan and Trump do not come off well). In prose that is eloquent and impassioned--sometimes hopeful, sometimes not--the author presses his fingers on our bruises, the ones many of us would prefer to ignore. Among his many topics: Martin Luther King Jr. and how his murder both elevated his status and began to create the myth that conceals much of the truth about him; the civil rights movement and how many of its gains have been lost; the mass incarceration epidemic and what the author believes are the legally sanctioned murders of young black men. Much of the focus, of course, is on Baldwin: his literary rise, his years abroad (France, Turkey), and how, later in life, he continued to sell well but had lost the approval of many key literary critics. Both Baldwin and Glaude argue that we must begin again. Baldwin's genius glimmers throughout as Glaude effectively demonstrates how truth does not die with the one who spoke it. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
The persisting problem of race lies at the core of malaise in the United States, argues Glaude (African American studies, Princeton Univ.; Democracy in Black). In this book spanning memoir, history, and cultural analysis, he asks the nation to confront the legacy of the civil rights movement of the 1960s. To clarify where the country has come from and failed to go, Glaude revisits what James Baldwin witnessed and remarked on in In the Fire Next Time (1963) and No Name in the Street (1972) works exposing dark realities of the nation's racial ferment. Glaude excavates the rubble and ruin of the nation's contradictions and failures, alongside a personal journey of self-discovery. Most importantly, Glaude writes about our collective responsibility to navigate disappointments, harness rage, and live with faith that good works can result in the triumph of "the better angels of our nature." VERDICT This is not an easy read for those wanting easy answers about race. Instead, it is a book about moral reckoning, owning up to failed choices, and making an effort to choose better ones. For all interested in uncovering how we got here, and how much further we have to go.--Thomas J. Davis, Arizona State Univ., Tempe