Roger Rosenblatt’s book Black Fiction,
in attempting to apply literary rather than sociopolitical criteria to its
subject, successfully alters the approach taken by most previous studies. As
Rosenblatt notes, criticism of Black writing has often served as a pretext for expounding
on Black history. Addison Gayle’s recent work, for example, judges the value of
Black fiction by overtly political standards, rating each work according to the
notions of Black identity which it propounds.
Although fiction assuredly springs from political circumstances, its
authors react to those circumstances in ways other than ideological, and
talking about novels and stories primarily as instruments of ideology
circumvents much of the fictional enterprise. Rosenblatt’s literary analysis
discloses affinities and connections among works of Black fiction which solely
political studies have overlooked or ignored.
Writing acceptable criticism of Black fiction, however, presupposes giving
satisfactory answers to a number of questions. First of all, is there a
sufficient reason, other than the racial identity of the authors, to group
together works by Black authors? Second, how does Black fiction make itself
distinct from other modern fiction with which it is largely contemporaneous?
Rosenblatt shows that Black fiction constitutes a distinct body of writing that
has an identifiable, coherent literary tradition. Looking at novels written by
Blacks over the last eighty years, he discovers recurring concerns and designs
independent of chronology. These structures are thematic, and they spring, not
surprisingly, from the central fact that the Black characters in these novels
exist in a predominantly White culture, whether they try to conform to that
culture of rebel against it.
Black Fiction does leave some aesthetic questions open.
Rosenblatt’s thematic analysis permits considerable objectivity; he even
explicitly states that it is not his intention to judge the merit of the
various works—yet his reluctance seems misplaced, especially since an attempt
to appraise might have led to interesting results. For instance, some of the
novels appear to be structurally diffuse. Is this a defect, or are the authors
working out of, or trying to forge, a different kind of aesthetic? In addition,
the style of some Black novels, like Jean Toomer’s Cane, verges on expressionism or surrealism; does this technique
provide a counterpoint to
the prevalent theme that portrays the fate against which Black heroes are
pitted, a theme usually conveyed by more naturalistic modes of expression?
In spite of such omissions, what Rosenblatt does include in his discussion
makes for an astute and worthwhile study. Black
Fiction surveys a wide variety of novels, bringing to our attention in the
process some fascinating and little-known works like James Weldon Johnson’s Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man. Its
argument is tightly constructed, and its forthright, lucid style exemplifies
levelheaded and penetrating criticism.
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