Twelve in Twelve

I am absolutely so late with this post roll-out. But I figured I would have had at least been late with one post. I did not, however, expect it to be with my second book. Still, I am determined to keep reading and keep posting.

I’m currently sitting at my kitchen table, listening to the last two chapters of the novel. It’s been quite an emotional and difficult listen for me. I love James Baldwin’s work, and respect him immensely as an author and cultural icon. But this particular novel was hard to sift through. The overall themes are interesting and challenging to tackle; Baldwin really brings forth the complexities of love, sexuality, and the human experience in this piece. Narrated by Matt Bomer, with a forward narrated by Kevin Young, the book has this calm conversational and educational voice to it. Choosing to have Bomer, an American actor and a gay man, as the narrator was the perfect choice for this particular story. Baldwin writes from the perspective of a blonde, white man living in Paris in the 1950’s, straying from his expected perspectives in his other writings. In the forward, Young equates this choice as a way in which Baldwin practically separates himself from the truth of his sexuality – mirroring David’s attempt to do the same in his own story.

This is a theme that I find so hard to identify with. But I have to remember when reading stories like these it is not the author’s job to make me comfortable, nor cater to my expectations and connections as a reader. I enjoyed grappling with this theme. It made my heart more sympathetic and tender, allowing me to identify with other themes in the story. Baldwin always writes so passionately about love and compassion, exploring those themes in drastically different experiences for his other characters. But this particular story brought the themes of sexuality and desire to be fully seen as you are, to the forefront. It was a bold move to publish a story like this in 1956. But maybe that’s why David is a white, blonde man and not a black man sifting through his sexuality and human experience. Maybe that made it easier to digest? Maybe it made it easier for Baldwin to grapple with personally, viewing his own life through the lens of a fictional character he created. I am the least qualified person to speculate on Baldwin’s true experience. I feel like I need to read more of his work before I make any true judgment and thoughtful opinions on who he was as a person, as opposed to an author.

But I know he was a good author because he wrote and incorporated so much experience in his novels; which is why everyone is always recommending him to me. It’s the mark of a truly great author in my opinion, when they stay true to the old saying of “write what you know”. That’s what reading this novel felt like. All of it felt so real and so raw and so honest. It is discussed in the forward that Baldwin does in fact incorporate much of his own journey in this story. So, I find it very refreshing to be able to educate myself a little more on his experience through this novel.

Our main character, David, is living apart from his fiance in 1950’s Paris, France. While staying in a small hotel room, before meeting his doomed lover, David gives us a glimpse into his past. He struggled deeply in his relationship with his father. Tension only grows more strongly in the household when his aunt moves in to help care for a young David, after the sudden death of his mother. That relationship is brought up a number of times throughout the novel as well, as a reminder of where David’s hesitations and uncertainties seem to stem from. He also discusses his first experience with another man – much before he ever becomes engaged to his fiance Hella. It is in that relationship we see the first strains of David’s repression of his own sexuality and desires. By the time he gets to Paris, he is engaged and separated from Hella, moving in a social circle that is a little more open and visible with their own sexuality. He meets Giovanni soon there after, almost immediately after being evicted from his hotel room.

From there, David begins a very passionate and intense affair with Giovanni, a young Italian immigrant who is bar tending for another mutual friend of theirs. I don’t want to give away the whole plot and tragedy of the book, but I will say that every detail of this story is so important to the development and overall human experience of each character. Their affair is swift, intense and ultimately tragic. Giovanni is young and passionate and sporadic; but he clings to David as if he is his salvation. They both equally carry their own traumas, that much is clear. But David’s trauma seems to impede him more than Giovanni’s does. David struggles so much with his identity. In many ways, he is reduced to just being yet “another American in Paris”. He is tied to that identity, feeling the weight of everything it means to be inherently American; thus causing him even more turmoil with his sexuality and his desires. Again, every detail of each character’s life is so important, so intricate and precise to their lives. This attention was so provocative, it made the entire novel such a joy to read.

The relationship between Giovanni and David unfolds into expected tragedy as the story continues. But what can the reader really blame this inevitable outcome on? David’s inability to truly grapple with his layered identity – his truth? Or the fact that Giovanni has suppressed his erratic emotions and own personal trauma for too long? The ill-fated lovers were never meant to last, as David makes clear in the beginning of the novel. But while they lasted, I like to believe that David felt some sense of peace and was grounded in who he was…even for just a moment. No one walks away from this story unscathed, however. The happy ending does not exist; which I think is just the right amount of harsh reality for love and human experience. Love does not always give us the ending we desire from its beginnings; but it does give us a moment of bliss we’ll hold onto forever.

At the ending of the novel, David rips up an envelope sent to him by another mutual friend he had met in Paris. I won’t say what the envelope contained, as it would spoil the ending. (Even though the book was originally published in 1956). But as David scatters the pieces of paper into the wind as he’s leaving France for good, he notes that after tearing the envelope into pieces and “…watching them dance in the wind, watching the wind carry them away. Yet, as I turn and begin walking toward the waiting people, the wind blows some of them back on me.” I’ve been thinking about that closing line for days now, reflecting on every tiny thing it means. We never escape our experiences, we will always be shaped by them, continuously impacted. Not marked or mangled by them, but simply shaped. Sometimes, I think Baldwin meant it to serve as a metaphor for a stain on David and his time in Paris; to further drive home his persistent shame and repressed existence. And maybe that’s true. But I also like to think of it on a lighter note; as light as I possibly can after reading something so devastating.

James Baldwin absolutely captivated my heart with this novel. He presented so many different themes in such a short amount of time, it’s no wonder that any film adaptation has fallen short of an accurate adaptation. This story is profound and powerful, intrusive and important. It has literally had me in a choke-hold for days now. I am so happy that I picked this novel for Black History Month; celebrating one of the most impactful voices of Black culture and Literary culture all at once. I am fully aware of just how transformative and influential Baldwin is a writer, artist and leading voice. I absolutely look forward to reading more of his works in the future. And I am positive I will be highly recommending everything I read from here on out. This novel was such a joy to read. If you find this story too heavy to tackle as your introduction to Baldwin, I would suggest reading some of his short essays first and then reaching for the heavier stuff when you are ready.

Thanks for reading along with me.