For their centennial, the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture’s Jean Blackwell Hutson Research and Reference Division released a list of 100 books celebrating 100 Black authors curated by some of today’s most celebrated Black writers, artists and luminaries just in time for Black History Month. The list features many of my personal favorites, including my most recent read: “Giovanni’s Room” by James Baldwin.
Baldwin’s “Giovanni’s Room” centers on a young American man, David, in 1950s Paris. David navigates a complicated affair with an Italian bartender with a troubled past, Giovanni, while his fiancée Hella is traveling in Spain.
The novel is a character study in avoidance and self-sabotage stemming from internalized homophobia, characterized by self-loathing and a lack of acceptance that ultimately hurts lovers, friends and innocent bystanders in the process.
An older gay man named Guillaume owns the gay bar where David is introduced to Giovanni by Jacques, another older, wealthy gay man and friend of his. Both Guillaume and Jacques are known for pursuing —and in several cases taking advantage of — younger, penniless men.
David and Giovanni become friends and then lovers with David moving into Giovanni’s small, cramped and decrepit bedroom on the outskirts of Paris. The surface-level, outward excuse David gives for the move is monetary while he is simultaneously ignoring his father’s letters from America inquiring into his son’s life in Paris and return plans.
The titular setting for David and Giovanni’s love affair is undoubtedly poetic, operating as a space that permits their love to exist freely. However, it becomes far from flourishing in this conveniently hidden and compartmentalized bedroom that previously belonged to a maid.
Unsurprisingly, in his ongoing self-sabotage, David alienates everyone and ends up alone.
In a shame spiral, fueled by his crippling fear of accepting his sexuality, David abandons Giovanni to return to Hella without giving any notice. In his preparation to do so, he transactionally takes advantage of an insecure woman named Sue.
David’s reckless desertion essentially causes an already vulnerable, damaged Giovanni’s demise. Meanwhile, guilt-ridden David facilitates the undoing of his engagement with Hella by cheating on her with a sailor in the South of France; this time, failing to conceal it, thus prompting their breakup and her return to America.
Although David’s carelessness and disregard for the feelings of others are textbook rage-bait, Baldwin’s portrayal makes it impossible to completely despise him as a character.
Giovanni and David are complex individuals with well-developed story arcs that allow readers to simultaneously reproach the characters’ selfishness and self-centeredness while also feeling sympathy and pity for them.
The novel offers a gut-wrenching conclusion with David completely isolated and still in denial, though at least somewhat aware of his devastating impact on Giovanni and others.
Baldwin’s imaginative storytelling comes together beautifully with a sense of morbid curiosity. Readers know early on how the novel may end and get a sense of David’s predictable pattern of disastrous, self-inflicted harm almost immediately.
The two are kindred spirits and soulmates in more ways than one. Giovanni shares a similar inherent propensity for self-sabotage to David, though his execution of it manifests quite differently.
Despite this, the reader can’t help but rubberneck and bear witness to this story — a testament to the eloquence of Baldwin’s prose. His ability to capture the nuances of the human psyche and the universal experience of unknowingly engaging with self-destructive behavior forces readers to empathize with these characters.
Setting aside intentional time in February to learn more about Black history and the contributions of Black trailblazers across every industry is a great way to honor and be a more active participant in Black History Month, but it should not be isolated to just 28 days out of the year.
Supporting and uplifting Black authors, musicians, filmmakers, performers, creators, actors, athletes and more is important for exposing yourself to diverse perspectives year-round.
If you are looking to read more Black literature, Schomburg’s list is an excellent starting point, and it has something for everyone.
Alice Walker’s “The Color Purple,” Zora Neale Hurston’s “Their Eyes Were Watching God” and Maya Angelou’s “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” are three more of my favorites from the list.
All three are written by women and feature female protagonists who encounter adversity and grapple with patriarchal struggles, before later finding self-assurance, confidence, independence and empowerment through their individualized, uplifting journeys.
Don’t think you could finish all three in February? No worries, because these picks are the perfect segue into celebrating next month: Women’s History Month.
Whether you choose to read Ta-Nehisi Coates, Toni Morrison or Angela Y. Davis, every voice is worth exploring on Schomburg’s list.
