Samuel Selvon (1923–1994)

Lilting set of loosely connected stories about the "boys", a group of West Indian migrants hustling in London in the 1950s. The central figure is Moses, a world-weary and cynical observer, who acts as a reluctant guide to new arrivals like Sir Galahad and host of occasional get-togethers to reminisce about life back in the Caribbean and daily stuggles in the UK. Not to mention the constant pursuit of women - or "skin" as they are related to. The misogynistic tones grate, but still it feels show more authentic to their voices. Racism is of course a constant battle, but also a sense of wonder at making their way through Trafalgar Square and Oxford Street and other epicentres of empire of the time. It gives a real feel of the 'Water' in the 50s. The language is brillant, poetic and full of slang. Most of all, the book is often hilarious as well as sad, and makes big impressions without labouring points. 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

Unlike The Lonely Londoners, this novel has not aged well. Apparently Selvon, way back in 1986, had his face slapped at a Commonwealth Institute event by an activist angered by the sexist depiction of women in his work. As a Trinidadian of East Indian descent he displays an ambiguous attitude towards Black West Indians, and the contemporary Black Power movement in London is largely played for laughs. Kunzru’s introduction to the 2020 Penguin edition does a good job of analysing the show more problematic features of this novel. I’m not in a hurry to read the third book in the trilogy. show less

This is a quick read once you get used to the language of the narration. After rereading the first paragraph a few times to get started, I ended up finishing off the book in one sitting. Driven by character studies and a cynical humor, the narrative works on various levels to illustrate and critique the state of a divided 1950s London society. Exploring the admirable and the questionable among a group of immigrants/exiles/explorers from the Caribbean, Selvon creates a journey through daily show more passions and humors. It is fast, engaging, humorous, and ultimately mysterious in where lines can be drawn for fiction and documentation, character and stereotype, narrator and author and character, and ironic illustration and objective tale. In short, the tale is hard to pin down, becoming more complicated with each moment the reader spends questioning, for theapparent simplicity here is deceptive. Selvon's created a smart careful book here---one worth reading for pleasure and rereading for fuller thought. show less