Samuel Selvon (1923–1994)

The immigrant experience was never so well told as it is in this short novel. Furthermore the ability of the author to demonstrate that experience through his prose was so successful that I was reminded why I love reading. Set in London in the early nineteen fifties it provides an entry into a world that is both far away and familiar at the same time.

Covering a period of roughly three years, it has no plot but is picaresque or episodic as it follows a limited number of characters of the show more "Windrush generation", all of them "coloureds", through their daily lives in the capital. The various threads of action form a whole through the unifying central character of Trinidadian Moses Aloetta, a veteran emigré who, after more than ten years in London, has still not achieved anything of note and whose homesickness increases as he gets older. Every Sunday morning "the boys", many a recent arrival among them, come together in his rented room to trade stories and inquire after those whom they have not seen for a while.

The immigrants in this story are treated poorly with low-level jobs that are insufficient to provide for more than the most basic necessities. They live on the fringe of the host society that regards them with indifference or hostility. Throughout the force of race and color prejudice is shown in incidents and through conversations but always with a sense of the human comedy that buoys most of the Caribbean natives that populate the story. Moses who has been in London a while shares his experience with newcomers or tries to if they will listen to him.

Early in the story Moses meets a newcomer named Henry Oliver (nicknamed Galahad) who is just "off the boat".
"From the very beginning they out to give you the impression that they hep, that they on the ball, that nobody could tie them up.
Sir Galahad was a fellar like that, and he was trying hard to give Moses the feeling that everything all right, that he could take care of himself, that he don't want help for anything. So that same morning when they finish eating Moses tell him that he would o with him to help him find a work, but Galahad say: 'Don't worry man, I will make out for myself.'"

Galahad goes out and immediately gets lost, but Moses follows him and persuades Galahad to take his advice and get a job, but be sure to find a place to live close to where you work. The patois of the immigrants has an almost musical quality in its simplicity and lack of tense. As the story continues more characters are introduced, in episodic fashion, each with their own idiosyncrasies. Despite their differences, their newness and unfamiliarity with the surroundings they are able to make a home within the larger urban environment provided by the city of London. Near the end of the story they come together for a "fete", a celebration and dance. They are enjoying themselves and for a moment forget about the life they left in the Caribbean, the daily difficulties they face in London, and the loneliness that remains a part of their lives.

"The changing of the seasons, the cold slicing winds, the falling leaves, sunlight on green grass, snow on the land, London particular. Oh what it is and where it is and why it is, no one knows, but to have said: 'I walked on Waterloo Bridge,' 'I rendezvoused at Charing Cross,' "Picadilly Circus is my playground,' to say these things, to have lived these, things, to have lived in the great city of London, centre of the world." show less

I picked this book from my uncle’s estate, thinking that it was a link to our distant heritage in Trinidad. It covers a time when he and my mom would have been growing up in Port of Spain. It does give an interesting picture of rural life in post-war Trinidad, as well as the life of Trini immigrants to London.
These stories describe a class quite different from my middle-class white family, although I think they would have been exposed to this life on their visits to family in the country. show more Certainly, the Caribbean patois that Selvon uses for many of the stories would have been familiar to them, and I could hear the rhythm of their voices in Selvon’s language. (Actually, the patois Selvon uses is much easier to follow than the language my mom uses when she wants to mimic the Trinidad islanders. But it still slows down a reader like me who wants to hear the voices in a naturalistic tone and rhythm.)
Selvon describes people with a lot of humour and spirit. These people are mostly the South Asian immigrant workers who form the agricultural working class of the countryside, living in farms and villages in almost medieval conditions. The indigenous Caribbean heritage that remains is reflected only in references to Obeah, a form of country magic like voodoo.
The brief stories of how the islanders get on in London particularly turn on a kind of irony. One islander fakes work for London Transport, another scams to buy a coat for his girlfriend, others put Obeah on a house when the landlord forces them out. It sounds a bit patronizing to reduce them to these simple stories, but they don’t seem patronizing in Selvon’s writing. His characters are all individuals trying to respond to challenging lives with whatever resources they have. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn’t. Selvon’s simple, concrete writing gives a very clear picture of working class life, both home in Trinidad and in London.
It’s interesting to see the level of under-development that was apparently commonplace in Trinidad at the time. Selvon describes families who face starvation when one villager controls the town’s well, and illiterate villagers who work to support one member of the family getting an education and a break for the whole family. The references to Obeah are interesting, too – not part of my family history, but it fits with a distinct sense of class superiority that is in the family. Selvon points to these issues by setting his first story on a large plantation, where conditions are quite affluent for the British owners. The story focuses on the impossibility of a relationship between the British and the Indian agricultural workers in the villages, and the conflict the hoped-for relationship creates, putting all the stories that follow in a context of imperialism and racism.
Selvon ignores the sexism of the culture, or perhaps he observes it without comment. It’s clearly reflected in the way the male characters talk about the women, and in the women themselves, that they are there essentially as a partner for the men and a support for their families. They are secondary characters in the stories where they appear at all, even when they drive a key plot point, such as selling access to the water well. Selvon just seems to have no interest in them as characters.
I’m glad I picked up this book, and I’ll look forward to finding more of Selvon’s books, particularly from later in his career when he deals with more contemporary conditions. These stories make me think that I should look for books by other Caribbean writers, especially V.S. Naipaul, whom I’ve been wanting to read for some time, but not gotten around to. show less

Picked this up on the recommendation of a friend after discussing 1950’s calypso music, it’s a modern classic I hadn’t heard of telling the tale of a small group of (mainly) Trinidadian immigrants in London in the fifties.

Sam Selvon eschews ‘Standard’ English and fuses the patois of the main characters into the language of the book – it is an interesting concept and challenges the reader to hear the characters much more clearly.

As the stories develop, the book exposes the pathos show more of an immigrants life in London, the colour bar, austerity Britain and a lack of jobs are in conflict with the natural indomitable spirit of Moses, Sir Galahad and Cap – the standout scene being a dance attended by all the key characters and hosted by a ‘lahdedah’ friend who tries to impress the white guests he has bought. Priceless images of calypso dances and ‘slackness’ ensue.

This is a marvellous book, that shows how cold and unforgiving London can be, and how the diversity of the city can also shine through. show less

The Lonely Londoners was Selvon's second novel, written in the first couple of years after he arrived in Britain from Trinidad. As you might expect, it deals with the problems and hardships of newly-arrived Caribbean immigrants in London: the difficulty of finding decent jobs and accommodation, coping with British people who hadn't yet learnt to live with people from different backgrounds, and so on. What you don't expect, though, is what Selvon does with this subject-matter. Never one to show more fit into anyone else's stereotype of what a postcolonial writer should be, he sets the squalor of immigrant life against the glory of exploring your youth and independence in a city like London. He turns it into a glorious, upbeat poetic celebration of London and of Caribbean individuality: imagine Damon Runyon writing Mrs Dalloway after listening to too many calypsos, or James Kelman if he were a few decades older and Trinidadian not Glaswegian, and you get the general idea, but you really have to read it yourself.
Like a lot of British writing of the 1950s, it's all rather misogynistic: it's a novel about a bunch of young men on the loose in which women appear only as disposable girlfriends or embarrassing mothers, but Selvon usually makes it pretty clear that he doesn't intend you to take his narrator's view of things entirely at face value. show less