Kei Miller

Each one of these remarkable essays is a gem. The ones written to the spirit of James Baldwin (including a yearning to be in the number who were allowed to call him "Jimmy") are truly heartfelt and powerful. The author's perspective as a Jamaican is incredibly valuable, as he shares the culture of Carnival in his home country and in Trinidad. His vivid descriptions of his journeys to Ghana and Nigeria, and what he discovers as a Black man in African countries is truly revelatory to him and show more to the reader. The most touching and tragic essays deal with his Haitian family roots and with his encounters with the gay young men, the "battymen" of Kingston Harbor, and how he sees them through the lens of a gay man who lives in England and in America without being targeted as frequently for violence, nor having to sell himself. Highly recommended for all that can be learned, the beauty of the sentences, and the honesty of the narrative.

Quotes: “Race and ethnicity are not the same things. Ethnicity is what is in your actual DNA, your genes, your ancestry. Race is how society constructs you.”

“How strange it is that the feeling of being out of body is always felt inside the body.”

“Here in Ghana, it is the harmattan – a season I have never felt or witnessed before. It is as if a huge thunderstorm is building, except there is no moisture. What I mistook as fog, I understand now is the tiniest particle of the Sahara Desert.”

“Can I really be a brother in this place if I do not speak a language from here – or if I can only speak to my brothers in the language that separated us from each other?” show less

In Kei Miller's novel, Augustown, a poor suburb of Kingston, Jamaica, is a hotbed of social unrest and marvels in equal measure: of flying preachermen and colourism, of old women singing one last, beautiful song before they die and of the devastating consequences of a young Rastafarian boy being forcibly shorn of his dreadlocks. Miller's prose is a pleasure to experience, sliding with effortless ease along the scale from standard English to Jamaican patois. It's been a while since I read a show more novel written with such deftness: with a poet's sensitivity to the rhythms of language but without any need to show off. Highly recommended. show less

Kei Miller’s short story collection Fear of Stones and Other Stories displays the complexities of identity in Jamaican society. Angst, despair, restlessness, and a lining of sadness mark many of the stories. At once showing the undercurrents of life in a place regarded as paradise, and providing a depth to characters typically marginalized by Jamaican society, the collection stands out as insightful literature for those willing to peel back the layers of life in Jamaica. The young and show more forgotten, single mothers, gay men, abandoned children, a mortician, and so on each find their spotlight in stories which can be cruel but are ultimately satisfying in their craft. Miller lends a voice to groups that are typically ignored, and his stories featuring gay characters provide a window into lives typically marginalized and abused by Caribbean society. The humanity of the characters and reflections of abuse are a compelling mirror for societies where homophobia finds popular support. The stories of women and the sorrow displayed by Miller’s characters are equally impactful. The longer, titular story is engaging, and the short, almost flash fiction stories are well wrought. Miller also has a few short story experiments in the collection which provided an interesting change or rhythm. Overall, Fear of Stones and Other Stories provides a great introduction to Kei Miller’s work, and marks the author as one worth returning to visit. show less

A hauntingly beautiful and yet brutal story. It's a hard combination to pull off, and Miller does it. Lyricism can be used to make ugly things too pretty and bearable but I never felt that Miller walked into this trap--instead, his poetry of expression allowed me to look straight into the story, and to see the humanity and uniqueness of his characters.

Augustown also manages to tell a lot of story in a little book--only 250 pages. In these ways I prefer it to Marlon James's bludgeon of a show more masterpiece, A Brief History of Seven Killings. With Augustown, I was better able to enter the book and to enjoy it on its own terms. show less