The Traveller's Tree: A Journey Through the Caribbean Islands was a Goodreads referral and a book I threw into my research pile (I'm not sailing away The Traveller's Tree: A Journey Through the Caribbean Islands was a Goodreads referral and a book I threw into my research pile (I'm not sailing away to Jamaica anytime soon, I'm sad to report. The protagonist of the novel I'm writing grew up in the Caribbean, and I want to flesh out her childhood.) Published in 1950, this lengthy and quite detailed travelogue by Patrick Leigh Fermor is exactly what I wanted. He colors geography and history lessons with observations of customs and daily life, and does an excellent job of comparing and contrasting the islands. Here are some highlights:
On Guadeloupe. The proprietress, a blonde, middle-aged Parisian, complained bitterly about the way the French West Indies were run, and hinted regretfully that all was far better in the British possessions, especially with regard to sanitation, roads, public works and discipline. I felt there was an unspoken corollary that the blacks were “kept in their place” better in the British possessions, and that, as a result, all were happier. Her conversation had an undercurrent of disillusionment that was to become increasingly familiar throughout the Antilles.
On Dominica (not to be confused with the Dominican Republic.) The food in Roseau was pretty bad. After Martinique it was incredible that such disastrous results could be attained with the same raw materials. Terrible pink soups appeared, and potatoes disguised with Daddy’s Favorite Sauce, on whose awfulness it would be unpatriotic to enlarge. But the puddings were most interesting, and as we laboured with them, washing down intractable mouthfuls with Big Tree Burgandy, we invented names for them; a game that, in a perverted fashion, made us look forward to their appearance.
But these experiences were unable to break the charm of Dominica and the Dominicans, and of the little capital. The maid in Sutton House was tremendously old, kind and motherly and appropriately called Nanny, whom the faintest suggestion of a joke on our part would send off into transports of delight. Seeing that we looked a bit hangdog over our meals, she brought us a plateful of fried frogs–cwapaud–which were very good indeed. It is a justly celebrated Dominican dish.
On Barbados. The club system runs all through Barbadian life and the cold shoulder and the open snub are resorted to only when no legal quibble is available. It segregates the two races of islanders just as effectively as the most stringent colour discrimination in the United States, and not half so honestly. There, at least, loathsome as the American colour laws appear to me, Negroes knew exactly where they are. There is none of the mean juggling with the written word that prevails in Barbados, where, on paper, no colour bar exists. It is a pretty sad state of society when any white Barbadian or English pup can bounce in virtually where he chooses, while the elected head of Government, who is the island’s equivalent of the British Prime Minister, may have to hesitate and draw back. It must be one of the most disgustingly hypocritical systems in the world.
Except for Canefield and the kindness of our hostess, it was without a pang that we flew away to Trinidad.
On Trinidad. Drawing a comparison between Barbados and Trinidad is almost irresistible, and it is a contrast which, in spite of the beautiful churches and houses of Barbados and of the gracelessness and the sodden climate of Port of Spain, Trinidad, for me, wins hands down. Trinidadians are free of the characteristics which, among the Barbadians, impair the quiet beauty of the coral island; and whatever the colour feeling in Trinidad may be, it does not fly at you the moment you arrive and lodge in your gullet forever. The Trinidadians appear, by contrast, fantastically carefree and cheerful and definite, and the dominating attribute of the islanders, both black and white, is certainly their vitality.
On Haiti. Smart life in Haiti–the dazzling white tropical suits, the dark heads and hands–resembles a photographic negative. Cabane Choucoune, the fashionable nightclub of Port-au-Prince, is perched on the mountainside above the capital in the cool suburbs of Petionville. It is a replica of an African kraal, a great cylinder of bamboo with a steep conical roof which simultaneously achieves, by skill twist of sophistication, the amenities, the low lights and the luxury of an expensive night club with the atmosphere of the dwelling of an equatorial monarch.
Men in beautifully made white suits and dinner jackets danced with women dressed in the height of fashion. They were superb, far the best-looking we had seen in any of the islands: tall, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted and long-legged, with a fine carriage of the head and great elegance of movement and gesture. What a relief to see this colour and splendour and extravagance after the shapeless dresses of the colonies! Many of our neighbours were pale in complexion, but the majority were of an imposing ebony. A woman sitting at the next table was perhaps the most beautiful in a room full of sable Venuses.
Fermor reserves the most space for Haiti--three chapters in all--and takes a deep dive into the country's Voodoo rituals, spending multiple nights at ceremonies. He distinguishes between the bush medicine applications of the religion and its rarer but more sensationalized accounts of evil spells or sorcerers which have only grown more infamous in pop culture since this account was published. My takeaway is that there's something special in Haiti--beyond the white man's fascination with Voodoo--that resort loclaes like Jamaica, Aruba or the Cayman Islands do not offer and the media, reporting on natural disasters, do not capture.
Recommended for those, like me, looking for a well-written and researched anthropological journey through the Caribbean....more
My introduction to Lawrence Wright is God Save Texas: A Journey Into the Soul of the Lone Star State. Anyone who savors long reads in Texas Monthly orMy introduction to Lawrence Wright is God Save Texas: A Journey Into the Soul of the Lone Star State. Anyone who savors long reads in Texas Monthly or the New Yorker should feel right at home with this terrific book published in 2018 and with Wright, a screenwriter/ playwright/ Pulitzer Prize winning journalist who's contributed pieces to those two magazines. Wright grew up in Dallas in the '60s and with his own family, relocated from Atlanta to Austin in 1979. His perspective is that of a native son who ventured away from Texas only to return with knowledge and experience, which he applies to different areas, aspects and activity of my native state.
Rather than an academic study with footnotes, the book falls within the journalism spectrum, which I always love. Wright straps on his road gear for a bicycle trip to the five Spanish missions along the San Antonio River, with his friend, novelist Steve Harrigan. He recounts his experience being licensed to carry a handgun in a section that explores gun violence. Two entire chapters on Texas politics are highlighted by Wright's experience roaming the halls of the state capitol. He recounts hanging out with quintessential Texans like George W. Bush, Cormac McCarthy and Willie Nelson. The book is no hatchet job and often glows with love for Texas, but is also brutal and unmerciful.
From the chapter The Charms, Such as They Are:
-- I've lived in Texas most of my life, and I've come to appreciate what the state symbolizes, both to people who live here and to those who view it from afar. Texans see themselves as confident, hardworking and neurosis-free--a distillation of the best qualities of America. Outsiders view Texas as the national id, a place where rambunctious and disavowed principles run wild. Texans, they believe, mindlessly celebrate individualism, and view government as a kind of kryptonite that saps the entrepreneurial muscles. We're reputed to be braggarts; careless with money and our personal lives; a little gullible but dangerous if crossed; insecure but obsessed with power and prestige. Indeed, it's an irony that the figure who most embodies the values people associate with the state is a narcissistic Manhattan billionaire now sitting in the Oval Office.
From the chapter Turn the Radio On:
-- One of the surprises is that if you have a handgun in your car and you're drunk, it doesn't matter if you're unlicensed; but if you are licensed, you're liable to be charged with a Class A misdemeanor, which can mean a year in jail and a $4,000 fine. "A lot of my students decide not to get a license because of that," our instructor, Michael Cargill, told us. He showed us some cautionary real-life videos. A convenience-store security camera recorded a customer who happened upon a robbery in progress; the customer frantically pulls out his concealed weapon and plugs the clerk, not the robber. Another video shows a target shooter plunking cans off a log with a rifle; one bullet misfires and the shooter peeks down the barrel to see what's going on, when suddenly his gimme cap is blown off his head. People do a lot of stupid things with guns, which is one reason I've always been wary of owning one.
From the chapter Sausage Makers:
-- The bathroom bill was not unique to Texas--a dozen other states had similar bills pending--but it embodied the meanness and intolerance that people tend to associate with Texas. The bill was being sold as a way to protect women against sexual predators who might pose as transgender--a problem that scarcely exists. Laws already on the books protect women from being accosted or spied upon. The sponsors of the bill claimed that it was not meant to discriminate against transgender Texans, although the law would do just that. The only remedy for trans people would be to change their birth certificate, a costly and time-consuming procedure. The bill proposed fining schools or state agencies up to $10,500 per day for violations. "How are they going to enforce it?" Chuy Hinojosa asked me. "Would a woman have to raise her dress?" There was grumbling about the need to hire "pecker checkers."
From the chapter The City of the Violet Crown:
-- All of these disparate cultural trends that were careening past each other in Austin like swirling electrons suddenly coalesced into a recognizable scene when Willie arrived. He occupies a place in Texas and especially in Austin, that no one else can claim. He was a jazz-infused country singer with a gospel background, and a songwriter with some notable hits. When his house in Nashville burned down, he decided to return to his home state, hoping to find more creative freedom. He let his beard grow and put his hair in pigtails. You never saw a man looking like that in Texas, but Willie could get away with it.
Because he is so culturally confounding, and because his songs are so much a part of the land, everybody claims Willie. He's a leftist, a Bernie Sanders fan, but he's beloved even by Tea Party types like Ted Cruz and Rick Perry. For decades he has advocated legalization of marijuana in a state where the laws of possession are quite punitive. He has even been cultivating his own brand, Willie's Reserve. Every once in a while, some state trooper or deputy sheriff will pull Willie's bus over and "discover" his stash. Willie has gotten off with a free concert, but the arrests are universally seen as poor sportsmanship.
From the chapter More Sausage:
-- Texas leads the nation is Latino population growth. Latinos account for more than half the 2.7 million new Texans since 2010. Every Democrat in Texas believes that if Hispanics voted at the same rate in Texas as they do in California, the state would already be blue. "The difference between Texas and California is the labor movement," Garnet Coleman, a Houston member of the Texas House of Representatives, told me. In the 1960s, Cesar Chavez began organizing the California farmworkers into a union, which didn't happen in Texas, a right-to-work state. "Labor unions create a culture of voting and political participation," Coleman observed. In Texas politics, Coleman believes, "everything is about race. It's veiled as public policy, but it encourages people to believe that their tax dollars are going to support lazy black and brown people." Political views have become more entrenched because of redistricting, and yet the demographic majority in Texas is far more progressive than its representatives. Coleman predicts a showdown. "This is the battle about the future of the country, based on a new majority, and we have to have this out."
If you've thought about visiting Texas (and you should, at least in the spring), I recommend God Save Texas: A Journey Into the Soul of the Lone Star State. Wright demonstrates his credentials as a journalist and a native Texan and uses them both to dissect the state with passion and wit. If you're thinking about buying a home in Texas, I highly recommend this book. Insatiably readable, I loved how it was organized, with the allure and challenges of Houston, Dallas and Austin (three of the eleven largest cities in the U.S.) examined with their own chapters, as well as the state capitol, with issues like immigration, healthcare, global warming and gun violence woven in.
Somehow, my favorite five pages ended up being in the Austin chapter and specifically, the leprechaun-like arrival of actor Matthew McConaughey in Wright's neighborhood of Tarrytown. I was familiar with the actor's "naked bongo" incident from the pages of Texas Monthly but wouldn't have known that Wright was for a time McConaughey's neighbor and had a front row seat to what happened. I wouldn't say that this gossip page item summarizes a state as complex and giant as Texas, except that maybe you really can't go home again, and that Wright writes about the affair with such an unjaundiced eye for detail and also pathos.
I talked to Steve about Matthew's broken dream of a normal existence. Steve was sympathetic, but he observed that movie stars like Matthew cultivate celebrity and can't expect to escape notoriety. In any case, "he's not a 'normal' person," Steve said. "He's a wild man living in Tarrytown."...more
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