First published in 1962 at the height of the Civil Rights movement, William Melvin Kelley’s A Different Drummer was championed earlier this year by the New Yorker who dubbed Kelley a ‘lost giant of American literature’. His novel is set in 1957 in an unnamed Southern state where the descendent of a slave performs an act which triggers the departure of the state’s black population in its entirety.
Tucker Caliban is the descendent of an African so fierce he’s been immortalised in a tale told frequently on the veranda of Sutton’s local stores by the town’s self-appointed elder to an audience of sharecroppers. Tucker, himself, is a taciturn man who grew up in the home of the Willsons, the family of a renowned Civil War general who paid money for the African. As a child, Tucker shared a room and bedtime stories with Dewey Willson, two years his junior. Fresh from his first year at college in the North, Dewey has come home to find that Tucker has set about systematically destroying the farm he bought from Dewey’s father two months ago before departing with his pregnant wife. Within hours the black population begins packing up and heading north leaving behind a bewilderment shared by the black pastor who arrives in a chauffeur-driven limousine asking questions about these strange events. As men, women and children pass by – some in cars, others on foot, all with their bags packed – the occupants of the veranda come to understand the repercussions of the black exodus and their mood turns.
Kelley begins his novel dramatically with the tale of Tucker Caliban’s ancestor, the African, an almost mythic figure. The rest of his story is told from the perspective of a variety of characters, from Harry Leland who is trying to raise his nine-year-old son to respect black people to David Willson, the idealistic descendent of the General. All are white. In clean, plain prose, each character delivers their own interpretation sketching in background details to Tucker’s calm act of destruction while revealing the complexity and nuances of the relationship between black and white through their stories. The ending, heartrendingly misinterpreted by Harry Leland’s young son as he lies in bed, comes as no surprise.
This new edition comes with a foreword by Kathryn Schulz explaining how the novel came to be republished together with some background to both the man and his work. I often skip these essays but this one’s well worth reading. Kelley was just twenty-four when he published A Different Drummer, his debut. It’s an astonishingly confident piece of work for a writer so young. Its rediscovery feels all too timely in the light of the current US administration, although it had its own Brexit resonance for me.
I caught the tag end of a radio discussion about this which annoyingly didn’t then recap on the title and author, so thank you. It sounds like a book for my Monday group, although we’re scheduled up to at least Easter. I shall have to mention it to them.
There’s certainly a great deal to discuss in this novel. You’d need to prepare for a long session, I think.
God this book is so good. I read it over the weekend and was utterly blown away – posting a review soon, with any luck. I agree that Schultz’s essay is excellent for setting the novel, and Kelley, in context (particularly his interest in white people’s psychology towards black people, which may have been the reason for his star’s rapid waning. And the quote from his daughter has really stayed with me: “he was utterly unafraid of being poor.”)
He was so young when he wrote it but that quote suggests a man utterly confident in himself. I’ll look out for your review.
Gosh this does sound excellent., thank you for bringing it to my attention .
You’re welcome, Ali. I have to admit that all the pre-publication brouhaha had made me sceptical but it’s a fine piece of fiction, sadly as apt now as it was when it was first published.
I’ve heard some very good things about this too, and it certainly seems to be a timely rediscovery. My only concern is that it might be too painful to read. Is there a lot of violence in it or is it not that type of book? (I may well be under a misconception here.)
There’s little explicit violence, Jacqui. It’s more the wrenching subject matter. I’d shied away at first because of the hype – lots of Stoner, Alone in Berlin comparisons – but it’s excellent. I’d recommend it.
This sounds really powerful and still very pertinent Susan.
It’s extraordinary, Cathy, and a very timely reissue sorry to say.
This sounds excellent!
I noticed that the author only just died in 2017. It’s too bad they hadn’t republished while he was still alive.
It is, isn’t it. I think it was simply bad timing. The book itself fits right in with our own times I’m sad to say.
Amazing. I’m definitely interested in this one. Your description of it makes me think of Ernest Gaines’ A Gathering of Old Men (the variety of perspectives, the themes).
It’s such an interesting way to explore the racial divide of the time. I’ve not read Gaines but it sounds as if I should.