Afropean by Johny Pitts
Afropean: Notes from Black Europe is this year's winner of the Jhalak Prize, and the third book I've read from their 2020 longlist. They have all been fantastic.
This is absolutely one to judge by its cover. I can't get over how beautiful this book is, and I've greatly enjoyed carrying it around with me and snatching in a few pages' worth of reading wherever possible.
"Afropean" is an abstract notion, and Pitts' quest to pin it down only serves to illustrate how varied Black European life can be. It is a relief, therefore, to find a coherent narrative at the heart of this book: Pitts' journey through Europe. I'm impressed by how easy Pitts makes it look to stick to this driving narrative; any later revisions, or earlier reference points are always succinct and essential to the story. Interwoven into this narrative, which has been condensed into the most important and interesting experiences, interviews, and anecdotes, are black-and-white photographs of everyday life, illuminating historical narratives, and literary quotations. I particularly enjoyed Pitts' honest reflections, and his musings on visiting James Baldwin's house in Saint-Paul-de-Vence - one of my favourite parts of the book.
I usually prefer non-fiction that is personal, because that seems to be what makes the book unique. When non-fiction tries to be objective, I often find myself distracted by wondering why this author is the most qualified to tell this story. Afropean is exactly my kind of non-fiction. Reading the book, which is broken down into sections on the different cities Pitts visited, feels like you're being told a story. I especially like how Pitts incorporates the stories of the people he meets into the book. He has a knack for finding the right balance between direct and indirect quoting, retelling the story in the most efficient and effective way without losing the sense of the original teller's voice.
Some non-fiction can be tiring to read, because of the amount of information being absorbed. But whenever I reached the end of a chapter and considered taking a short break, I always found myself being pulled into the next chapter. The sign of a good book.
This is absolutely one to judge by its cover. I can't get over how beautiful this book is, and I've greatly enjoyed carrying it around with me and snatching in a few pages' worth of reading wherever possible.
"Afropean" is an abstract notion, and Pitts' quest to pin it down only serves to illustrate how varied Black European life can be. It is a relief, therefore, to find a coherent narrative at the heart of this book: Pitts' journey through Europe. I'm impressed by how easy Pitts makes it look to stick to this driving narrative; any later revisions, or earlier reference points are always succinct and essential to the story. Interwoven into this narrative, which has been condensed into the most important and interesting experiences, interviews, and anecdotes, are black-and-white photographs of everyday life, illuminating historical narratives, and literary quotations. I particularly enjoyed Pitts' honest reflections, and his musings on visiting James Baldwin's house in Saint-Paul-de-Vence - one of my favourite parts of the book.
I usually prefer non-fiction that is personal, because that seems to be what makes the book unique. When non-fiction tries to be objective, I often find myself distracted by wondering why this author is the most qualified to tell this story. Afropean is exactly my kind of non-fiction. Reading the book, which is broken down into sections on the different cities Pitts visited, feels like you're being told a story. I especially like how Pitts incorporates the stories of the people he meets into the book. He has a knack for finding the right balance between direct and indirect quoting, retelling the story in the most efficient and effective way without losing the sense of the original teller's voice.
Some non-fiction can be tiring to read, because of the amount of information being absorbed. But whenever I reached the end of a chapter and considered taking a short break, I always found myself being pulled into the next chapter. The sign of a good book.
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