"How much time do you want for your ‘progress’?"

James Baldwin, 1963. Courtesy: CSU Archives/Everett Collection

James Baldwin (1924-1987) was one of the most prolific writers of the 20th century. He was unparalleled as an intellectual, author, and activist. Over the years, I’ve read four of his books and a few of his essays. His collection of essays called Notes of a Native Son is likely his most influential non-fiction work. In it, he writes about other authors of his day, such as his friend Richard Wright--whose novel is referenced in the title--and Zora Neale Hurston. He was very active in the literary field, but also in the national and global discussion about civil rights. Both fields were idea-gardens. He appeared on talk shows and participated in a debate about the Black American dream in Cambridge. He held friendships with Civil Rights giants Malcom X and MLK Jr.. On the topic of collaboration, it seemed that Baldwin drew inspiration from his contemporaries, but he didn’t necessarily create alongside them. Before Notes of a Native Son, in which the essay “Many Thousands Gone” heavily criticized Wright’s novel, Richard Wright and James Baldwin were friends, and Wright helped Baldwin secure the Eugene F. Saxton Memorial Trust Award. The friendship didn't last past Baldwin's critique.

James Baldwin was born in Harlem to a single mother, who later married a Baptist minister. Though fiction, Baldwin’s most autobiographical work is Go Tell It on the Mountain, his first novel, which reflects his relationship with his father and religion. He called it, “the book I had to write if I was ever going to write anything else.” Clearly, Baldwin was a collector. He wrote using his experiences and his pain. “I had to deal with what hurt me most,” he said of Go Tell It on the Mountain. “I had to deal, above all, with my father.” Later works like Giovanni’s Room and Another Country dealt with interracial relationships and sexuality, specifically the lives of gay men. These happen to be my two favorites. Baldwin always affirmed that his and all sexuality is fluid. If Beale Street Could Talk is a very personal examination of the wrongful arrest and incarceration of a young Black man. Most of his books contain illustrations of love, but it is almost always ill-fated, impossible, or depressing. Baldwin doesn’t shy from themes that cause shame or sadness for readers.

Baldwin was an absorber of culture. Early on, he moved from Harlem to Greenwich Village in New York, an artistic hub of new creation. Later, understandably dissatisfied with the United States, he moved to France on fellowship. He spent much of his life in Europe, especially Paris, where he died. European culture and social environments allowed him freedom in writing about race. He told the New York Times, "once I found myself on the other side of the ocean, I see where I came from very clearly...I am the grandson of a slave, and I am a writer. I must deal with both." Giovanni’s Room is set in France and he wrote multiple essays about the Black experience in Paris. 

Baldwin was both intrinsically and extrinsically motivated. His voice and passion in combination with his natural talent created a need to write, to speak. That came from inside him. Additionally, though, he had goals for the nation. Like the desires of other Civil Rights activists, he wanted externally visible, tangible change. In his later life, Baldwin spent some time as a university professor, as many prolific writers have. In the interest of not making this post unreadable, I will stop here, but I encourage anyone to find and read more about James Baldwin. There is no shortage of whip smart quotes, interviews, or his incredibly poignant writing.

Amateur Baldwin portrait