Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin
At the end of June, I watched the BBC's I Am Not Your Negro, a documentary film based on Baldwin's unfinished manuscript Remember This House. I immediately ordered all his books my library had. I finally got my hands on them on Friday: Giovanni's Room, If Beale Street Could Talk, and Go Tell It on the Mountain. But the delay is serendipitous, because today - the day that I finished my first book by James Baldwin - is Baldwin's birthday. He would have been 96.
David, a young white American in 1950s Paris, is waiting for his fiancée to return from Spain. But when he meets Giovanni, a handsome Italian barman, the two men are drawn into an intense affair. After three months Hella returns, and, denying his true nature, David rejects Giovanni for a 'safe' future as a married man. His decision eventually brings tragedy.
I wanted to read James Baldwin's books because, watching the documentary, I was enthralled by his eloquence. He seemed to have a gift for coining the perfect turn of phrase, and for making language speak the truth. His eloquence was also physical, in the way he looked and the sound of his voice. It was this genius for language that I most enjoyed about Giovanni's Room; not only the way Baldwin expresses things, but the way he sees things. I frequently found myself rereading a certain phrase, in a way that I do with Shakespeare or with poetry.
The story itself also feels truthful. This isn't just a story about two men falling in love in a time and place where it wasn't acceptable. I love how Baldwin evokes the society of men David and Giovanni meet amidst, forced into the shadows not by the law but by societal pressure. We feel the power of internal forces more than external forces. I also liked that Baldwin's characters could be uncertain, even unreadable.
This isn't just a beautiful story told in a beautiful way. Baldwin balances style and plot, and the book's structure is difficult to pin down but works so well. I kept reading to find out what happened - not just in the plot, but to the characters, to the story.
David, a young white American in 1950s Paris, is waiting for his fiancée to return from Spain. But when he meets Giovanni, a handsome Italian barman, the two men are drawn into an intense affair. After three months Hella returns, and, denying his true nature, David rejects Giovanni for a 'safe' future as a married man. His decision eventually brings tragedy.
I wanted to read James Baldwin's books because, watching the documentary, I was enthralled by his eloquence. He seemed to have a gift for coining the perfect turn of phrase, and for making language speak the truth. His eloquence was also physical, in the way he looked and the sound of his voice. It was this genius for language that I most enjoyed about Giovanni's Room; not only the way Baldwin expresses things, but the way he sees things. I frequently found myself rereading a certain phrase, in a way that I do with Shakespeare or with poetry.
The story itself also feels truthful. This isn't just a story about two men falling in love in a time and place where it wasn't acceptable. I love how Baldwin evokes the society of men David and Giovanni meet amidst, forced into the shadows not by the law but by societal pressure. We feel the power of internal forces more than external forces. I also liked that Baldwin's characters could be uncertain, even unreadable.
This isn't just a beautiful story told in a beautiful way. Baldwin balances style and plot, and the book's structure is difficult to pin down but works so well. I kept reading to find out what happened - not just in the plot, but to the characters, to the story.
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