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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780486850566 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Dover Publications |
| Publication date: | 01/31/2022 |
| Series: | Dover Thrift Editions: Black History |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 96 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Best known for his vivid and astute portrayals of Black life across the written page, Langston Hughes—born James Mercer Langston Hughes—(1901 - 1967) was a poet, playwright, writer and key figure of the Harlem Renaissance who founded jazz poetry. Raised mostly by his grandmother, Hughes was instilled with a lasting sense of racial pride and a love of books from a young age and though not supported by his father in his pursuit of writing, Hughes would attend Columbia with his father’s aid in 1921, before leaving the very next year due to racial prejudice and a desire to focus on his poetry. Hughes first introduced his voice to the world in a 1921 issue of The Crisis where he published, “The Negro Speaks of Rivers.” The poem would come to be known as his signature piece and five years later was included in his debut poetry collection, The Weary Blues. Establishing himself as a key player of the Harlem Renaissance, Hughes would be one of a small group of Black intellectuals and artists of the movement who called themselves the Niggerati. Going on to write their manifesto, “The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain,” Hughes’ use of the literary medium differed heavily from the artistic aspirations of the Black middle class in that he desired to focus on highlighting the lives of working-class Black people and addressing divisions and prejudices that existed within the Black community itself. In a career spanning over four decades, Hughes would publish an award-winning novel (Not Without Laughter), multiple plays—some in collaboration with Zora Neale Hurston—(Mule Bone and Black Nativity), children’s literature (Popo and Fifina) and even an autobiography (The Big Sea); among others in a large volume of work. In his personal life, Hughes maintained lifetime friendships with members of the movement and also is believed to have had private romantic and sexual relationships with men. While Hughes’ emphasis on racial pride had begun to fall out of favor with new and coming movements of the younger generation, his contributions to the African-American literary canon and American literature at all could not be denied and as such at the time of his death was—and continues to be—one of the most talented and respected voices of a generation.
Read an Excerpt
Introducing Langston Hughes to the Reader
At the moment I cannot recall the name of any other person whatever who, at the age of twenty-three, has enjoyed so picturesque and rambling as Langston Hughes. Indeed, a complete account of his disorderly and delightfully fantastic career would make a fascinating picaresque romance which I hope this young Negro will write before so much more befalls him that he may find it difficult to capture all the salient episodes within the limits of a single volume.
Born on February 1, 1902, in Joplin, Missouri, he had lived, before his twelfth year, in the City of Mexico, Topeka, Kansas, Colorado Springs, Charlestown, Indiana, Kansas City, and Buffalo. He attended Central High School, from which he graduated, at Cleveland, Ohio, while in the summer, there and in Chicago, he worked as delivery and dummy-boy in hat-stores. In his senior year he was elected class poet and editor of the Year Book.
After four years in Cleveland, he once more joined his father in Mexico, only to migrate to New York where he entered Columbia University. There, finding the environment distasteful, or worse, he remained till spring, when he quit, broke with his father and, with thirteen dollars in cash, went on his own. First, he worked for a truck-farmer on Staten Island; next, he delivered flowers for Thorley; at length he partially satisfied an insatiable craving to go to sea by signing up with an old ship anchored in the Hudson for the winter. His first real cruise as a sailor carried him to the Canary Islands, the Azores, and the West Coast of Africa, of which voyage he has written; “Oh, the sun in Dakar! Oh, the little black girls of Burutu! Oh, the blue, blue bay of Loanda! Calabar, the city lost in a forest; the long, shining days at sea, the mass rocking against the stars at night; the black Kru-boy sailors, taken at Freetown, bathing on deck morning and evening; Tom Pey and Haneo, whose dangerous job it was to dive under the seven-ton mahogany logs floating and bobbing at the ship’s side and fasten them to the chains of the crane; the vile houses of rotting women at Lagos; the desolation of the Congo; Johnny Walker, and the millions of whisky bottles buried in the sea along the West Coast; the daily fights on board, officiers, sailors, everybody drunk; the timorous, frightened missionaries we carried as passengers; and George, the Kentucky colored boy, dancing and singing the Blues on the after-deck under the stars.”
Returning to New York with plenty of money and a monkey, he presently shipped again—this time for Holland. Again he came back to New York and again he sailed—on his twenty-second birthday: February 1, 1924. Three weeks later he found himself in Paris with less than seven dollars. However, he was provided for: a woman of his own race engaged him as doorman at her boite de nuit. Later he was employed, first as second cook, then as waiter, at the Grand Duc, where the Negro entertainer, Florence, sang at this epoch. Here he made friends with an Italian family who carried him off to their villa at Desenzano on Lago di Garda where he passed a happy month, followed by a night in Verona and a week in Venice. On his way back across Italy his passport was stolen and he became a beach-comber in Genoa. He has described his life there to me: “Wine and figs and pasta. And sunlight! And amusing companions, dozens of other beach-combers roving the dockyards and water-front streets, getting their heads whacked by the Fasciti, and breaking one loaf of bread into so many pieces that nobody got more than a crumb. I lived in the public gardens along the water-front and slept in the Albergo Populare for two lire a night amidst the snores of hundred of other derelicts...I painted my way home as a sailor. It seems that I must have painted the whole ship myself. We made a regular ‘grand tour’: Livorno, Napoli (we passed so close to Capri I could have cried. Then all around Sicily—Catania, Messina, Palermo—the Lipari Islands, miserable little peaks of pumice stone out in the sea; then across to Spain, divine Spain! My buddy and I went on a spree in Valencia for a night and a day...Oh, the sweet wine of Valencia!”
He arrived in New York on November 10, 1924. That evening I attended a dance given in Harlem by the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. Some time during the course of the night, Walter White asked me to meet two young Negro poets. He introduced me to Countee Cullen and Langston Hughes. Before that moment I had never heard of either of them.
II
I have merely sketched a primitive outline of a career as rich in adventures as a fruit-cake is full of raisins. I have already stated that I hope Langston Hughes may be persuaded to set it down on paper in the minutest detail, for the bull-fights in Mexico, the drunken gaiety of the Grand Duc, the delicately exquisite grace of the little black girls at Burutu, the exotic languor of the Spanish women at Valencia, the barbaric jazz dances of the cabarets in New York’s own Harlem, the companionship of sailors of many races and nationalities, all have stamped an indelible impression on the highly sensitized, poetic imagination of this young Negro, an impression which has found its initial expression in the poems assembled in this book.
An also herein may be discerned that nostalgia for color and warmth and beauty which explains this boy’s nomadic instincts.
“We should have a land of sun,
Of gorgeous sun,
And a land of fragrant water
Where the twilight
Is a soft bandanna handkerchief
Of rose and gold,
And not this land where life is cold,”
he sings. Again, he tells his dream:
“To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! whirl! whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening…
A tall, slim tree…
Night coming tenderly,
Black like me.”
More of this wistful longing may be discovered in the poems entitled The South and As I Grew Older. His verses, however, are by no means limited to an exclusive mood; he writes caressingly of little black prostitutes in Harlem; his cabaret songs throb with the true jazz rhythm; his sea-pieces ache with a calm, melancholy lyricism; he cries bitterly from the heart of his race in Cross and The Jester; he sighs, in one of the most successful of his fragile poems, over the loss of a loved friend. Always, however, his stanzas are subjective, personal. They are the (I had almost said informal, for they have a highly deceptive air of spontaneous improvisation) expression of an essentially sensitive and subtly illusive nature, seeking always to break through the veil that obscures for him, at least in some degree, the ultimate needs of that nature.
To the Negro race in America, since the day when Phillis Wheatley indited lines to General George Washington and other aristocratic figures (for Phillis Wheatley never sang “My way’s cloudy,” or “By an’ by, I’m goin; to lay down dis heavy loud”) there have been born many parents. Paul Laurence Dunbar, James Weldon Johnson, Claude McKay, Jean Toomer, Georgia Douglas Johnson, Countee Cullen, are a few of the more memorable names. Not the least of these names, I think, is that of Langston Hughes, and perhaps his adventures and personality offer the promise of as rich a fulfillment as has been the lot of any of the others.
CARL VAN VETCHEN.
New York,
August 3, 1925.
Table of Contents
Introducing Langston Hughes to the Reader by Carl Van VechtenProem
THE WEARY BLUES
The Weary Blues
Jazzonia
Negro Dancers
The Cat and the Saxophone
Young Singer
Cabaret
To Midnight Nan at Leroy’s
To a Little Lover-Lass, Dead
Harlem Night Club
Nude Young Dancer
Young Prostitute
To a Black Dancer in "The Little Savoy"
Song for a Banjo Dance
Blues Fantasy
Lenox Avenue: Midnight
DREAM VARIATIONS
Dream Variation
Winter Moon
Poème d’Automne
Fantasy in Purple
March Moon
Joy
THE NEGRO SPEAKS OF RIVERS
The Negro Speaks of Rivers
Cross
The Jester
The South
As I Grew Older
Aunt Sue’s Stories
Poem
BLACK PIERROT
A Black Pierrot
Harlem Night Song
Songs to the Dark Virgin
Ardella
Poem
When Sue Wears Red
Pierrot
WATER-FRONT STREETS
Water-Front Streets
A Farewell
Long Trip
Port Town
Sea Calm
Caribbean Sunset
Young Sailor
Seascape
Natcha
Sea Charm
Death of an Old Seaman
SHADOWS IN THE SUN
Beggar Boy
Troubled Woman
Suicide’s Note
Sick Room
Soledad
To the Dark Mercedes of "El Palacio de Amor"
Mexican Market Woman
After Many Springs
Young Bride
The Dream Keeper
Poem
OUR LAND
Our Land
Lament for Dark Peoples
Afraid
Poem
Summer Night
Disillusion
Danse Africaine
The White Ones
Mother to Son
Poem
Epilogue
Alphabetical List of Titles
Alphabetical List of First Lines