nurko

Like a record by an unknown genius picked at random out of a dollar bin at goodwill, this book, when I brought it home and unleashed it, actually (truly) made me want to dance. Written in “poor-talk,” a highly lyrical Trinidadian Pidgin English which allows for incredible and delightful feats of linguistic dexterity, Lovelace’s 250 page novel depicts the beautifully chaotic, pot-holed, garbage-strewn life of a small shantytown on the outskirts of Port of Spain, Trinidad, as its inhabitants prepare for Carnival. The lovingly-rendered characters (failed and famous Calypsonians, depressed costume makers, alienated Indian shopkeepers, vitriolic barmaids, drunken steel-drummers, gorgeous widows, and “bad-johns”) all struggle against the nihilism and despair that their poverty engenders, as they are drawn together for the annual transformative ritual which allows them a glimpse into their mythical dream-world – a world where “All-o-we is one,” where, "with carnival coming, radios go on full blast, trembling these shacks, booming out calypsos, the songs that announce in this season the new rhythms for people to walk in, rhythms that climb over the red dirt and stone, break-away rhythms that laugh through the groans of these sights, these smells, that swim through the bones of these enduring people so that they shout: Life! They cry: Hurrah! They drink rum and say: Fuck it! They walk with a tall hot beauty between the garbage and dogshit, proclaiming life, exulting in the bare bones of their person and their skin." A tragic-comic exploration of Trinidad’s messy racial and economic legacies, a musical and excessive celebration befitting Carnival itself, a book of wild stylistic experimentation, it’s also a heartbreaking tale about one man’s search for ‘personhood,’ community, and hope in the midst of desperate, crushing poverty. A must read for anyone interested in Trinidad, Carnival traditions, or good books.

2022-11-14 16:05