In the Famous Writer's Shadow

His stern glare casts a shadow over the canon of postcolonial thought, like an impossible to please father. I've never thought to contradict him, knowing that his character studies are deft and his sense of humor, though not gentle, is prescient. A Nobel Prize imposes god-like status on his opinions, and even before the Nobel, as a young girl, I read his books with reverence.

Perhaps there should be a warning label on his work, that says "not for the hyper-sensitive." Reading his work I felt chastised, shamefaced, like a silly little native. Of course, this might have more to do with my own neuroses than any intent on the part of the writer. Franz Fanon wrote about "the pitfalls of a national consciousness," and he is spot on in his descriptions of the foibles and blind spots of people involved in the messy task of nation building. Those caught in a historical moment when the old ways conflict with the new order, their predicament is the fodder for tragicomedy, at which he excels. He exposes the ways that tradition can be absurd and self-defeating.

A sense of humor is essential to the Trinidadian character, and playful mockery saturates local art forms, from calypso to ol' talk with the neighbors. It's a sense of humor that takes no prisoners. A generation removed from those who lived through the transition to Independence in Trinidad, perhaps I don't realize just how thick skinned you must be to defy the received wisdom of your inferiority. Perhaps some of the humor comes from defensiveness, laugh at yourself before they laugh at you.

However, divergence from received wisdom does not go over well, the playfulness only goes so far. Whether out of defensiveness, or perhaps a strong sense of national identity, the obligation to "be proud of your country" amounts to self-censorship. Anyone who does not toe the expected party line is labeled as deluded and un-emancipated, whether their ideas have merit or not.