Black Boy or Beat Street ? Black Boy… Beat Street… I’ll take Black Boy for 200, Alex.
Black Boy, that ancient book that was so appropriately named, tells the story of a black boy by the name of Richard Wright. The novel recounts his supposedly true life of Wright as an African American in the South in the 1910s and 1920s. And as far as I have read, Wright didn’t have it easy AT ALL.
(I don’t know how far we were supposed to read but I’m pretty far into the book, so [SPOILER ALERT])
First, he sets the house on fire. Yes, as in flames. (He wanted to watch the pretty curtains burn). As ♪ Burn, baby, burn ♪ plays in the background, Richard’s family rush out and Richard is eventually beaten to within an inch of his life. After beginning the book with an event as… EVENTFUL as this, it is to be expected that this novel is gonna be one trippy ride.
Next he kills a kitten. A kitten. A poor, defenseless little kitty cat. THE MONSTERRRRRR!!!!! But he only did it because he wanted attention, right?
Then blah blah, his life is even more messed up, he’s hungry, he gets separated from his brother, his mommy gets sick, etc., etc. You know what, I’m just going to stop right here. That’s enough meat for this blog stew.
What do I think of this “autobiography”? Well, for one thing, it is ridunkulous. It’s just sad that people actually had to live like this. And, forgive if what I’m about to say is wrong, but one part of the book amused me when it probably shouldn’t have. It’s the part when Richard was working for a white family and he said that they treated each other so badly. I just found it funny how the family members were treating each other.
So, as pity-producing and generally emotion-provoking “Black Boy” is, the book isn’t really half bad.
