Dancing In The Dark - Couverture rigide

Phillips, Caryl

Couverture rigide

ISBN 10 : 1400043964 ISBN 13 : 9781400043965

Editeur : Alfred a Knopf Inc, 2005

Synopsis

Book by Phillips Caryl

A propos du livre

Extrait

Act One

(1873-1903)

It is February 1903 and at present he is impersonating Shylock Homestead in the musical In Dahomey, but only after dark. He shambles about as though unsure what to do next, as if a wrong turning has placed him upon this stage and he may as well stay put until somebody offers him the opportunity to withdraw. Every evening Mr. Williams wanders aimlessly, but despite his size there is some elegance to his movement. When the audience raises its collective voice and asks him to reprise a song, Mr. Williams acts as though he is first shocked and then somewhat embarrassed that they should be stirring him out of his befuddled anonymity. Of course, this is all the more comical to his audience for they have never before witnessed a Negro performer affecting such indifference in the face of such overwhelming approval. Back uptown in Harlem, few residents have actually seen him perform, but everybody is fully aware of his stellar reputation. However, there are some Harlemites who have sat upstairs in the balcony and looked down at the senior partner in the Williams and Walker comedy duo, who are unsure what to make of his foolish blackface antics. These days Mr. Williams seldom looks up at the parcel of dark faces that stare down at him from nigger heaven, but he is always grateful to hear a good number of these colored Americans applauding enthusiastically as In Dahomey unfolds.

He stares at the contented white faces in the orchestra stalls knowing that he can hold an audience like nobody else in the city. He knows when to go gently with them, and he carefully observes their mood; he knows not to strain the color line for he respects their violence. At other times, when he can sense something close to warmth, he might push and cajole a little, and try to show them something that they had not thought of before; he might try to introduce them to the notion that music and wit are the colored man's gift to America, and then impress them with his own unique style of carefree dancing. All the while he listens closely for a single dull note, and should he detect it he will proceed with caution and neither irritate nor provoke. He is keen that at the end of the evening, they should all leave safely and without either party having broken the unwritten contract that exists between the Negro performer and his white audience. If they can achieve this, then it will be possible for them to come together again in good faith. He cares what they think about him, and he understands that one false step and he risks toppling over into the musician's pit and being replaced by Bob Cole or Ernest Hogan or one of the scores of other colored performers who are keen to usurp him without fully understanding that they do have the choice of offering these white faces in the orchestra stalls some artistic drollery and a little repose instead of clownish roughness and loud vulgarity.

But these days an increasingly impatient George does not share his partner's circumspect feelings with regard to their white audience. Before In Dahomey, neither Williams nor Walker objected to being presented as "The Two Real Coons" on the New York stage. They were young men, freshly arrived in the city and making their determined way in the world of vaudeville, often sharing the boards with acts billed as "The Merry Wops" or "The Sport and the Jew," and when money was in short supply they were happy to play on the same bill with trained dog and monkey acts. But it is now 1903, and times have changed and they are successful, and although Bert does not like to heat up the white man's blood by being flash in his face, George feels differently. George takes the role of the dude of the pair, the Broadway swell with silk cravat and fancy spats who blazes with energy, and who is not afraid to eyeball the audience. He is always pushing and demanding more, and the more George agitates, the more sorrowful his partner becomes both in performance and in person. He thinks, No need to be like that, George, as his gold-toothed partner grins and winks and seems determined to create a palpable flutter of feminine hearts both onstage and in the orchestra stalls, but Bert never says anything to dandy George in his colorful vests. Some days, Bert feels that their act, although seamless and coherent on the outside, is beginning to fracture internally for George has absolutely no interest in going gently with an audience and learning how to seduce them, and Lord help the man, white or colored, who would dare refer to him with an unpleasant epithet. In fact, an increasingly successful, and confident, George is beginning to act as though he doesn't give a damn about white folks.

walker:-I tell you I'm letting you in on this because you're a friend of mine. I could do this alone and let no one in on it. But I want you to share it just because we're good friends. Now after you get into the bank, you fill the satchel with money.

williams:Whose money?

walker:-That ain't the point. We don't know who put the money there, and we don't know why they got it. And they won't know how we got it. All you have to do is fill the satchel; I'll get the satchel--you won't have nothing to bother about--that's 'cause you're a friend of mine, see?

williams:-And what do I do with the satchel?

walker:-All you got to do is bring it to me at a place where I tell you.

williams:-When they come to count up the cash and find it short, then what?

walker:-By that time we'll be far, far away--where the birds are singing sweetly and the flowers are in bloom.

williams:-(With doleful reflection) And if they catch us they'll put us so far, far away we never hear no birds singin'. And everybody knows you can't smell no flowers through a stone wall.

He listens to the applause for his slow and cautious character. He listens to the applause for George's dapper, city-slick Negro dude. Do the audience understand that his character, this Shylock Homestead whose dull-witted antics amuse them, bears no relationship to the real Egbert Austin Williams? Every evening this question worries him, and every evening as he takes his curtain call he tries to ignore it, but he often lies in his bed late into the night trying to calculate where he might force a little more laughter here, or squeeze an inch more room to work with there, and therefore impress them with the overwhelming evidence of his artistry. Every evening he listens to the rainstorm of their applause and every evening he takes his bow, careful to make sure that he bends from the waist in tight unison with George, careful to make sure that the pair of them move and offer their best smile as one. George talks without moving his lips or turning his head. "You want to give them more?" Bert looks straight ahead. "Not tonight." Again they bow as one. "Everything okay?" "Sure, everything is just capital." The band begins to play their number and Bert waves a slow-branched hand to the audience and turns to leave. He holds the curtain open for George and makes sure that his partner passes safely through the velvet drapes. The thunderous applause continues, but Bert does not turn again to look at the audience for, at this moment, he wants something from them that he suspects he can never have: their respect. However, from the very beginning, this reluctant seven-legged word has failed to make an appointment with him.

--Mr. Williams?

He listens to the stage manager hollering out his name in the busy corridor. Why can't the impatient man wait until he has taken off his face?

--Mr. Williams, you'll be wanting me to keep a seat at tomorrow night's performance for your pop?

Every night the same intrusive question, and every night the same polite answer.

--Sure, Mr. Kelly, you keep that seat nice and warm. I reckon he'll be coming back either tomorrow night or some night soon.

He places the newly soiled towel by the bowl of murky water and he stares into the mirror at his fresh, clean face. He knows that his father has no desire to return and witness his son transforming himself into a nigger fool. He knows his father well enough to understand that beneath his placid exterior a quiet frustration burns within him, and he believes that his father does not like to place himself in situations that might cause him to get heated up. Father and son have never spoken of this fact, but since their arrival in America father and son seem to have found it difficult to communicate on any subject.

--Mr. Williams, will you be needing anything else tonight?

--I don't believe so, Mr. Kelly.

--Well, you just remember. I'll be holding that spot for your pop. Tomorrow night, or whenever he's ready to see you perform, you just let me know.

--Thank you, Mr. Kelly. I surely appreciate it.

He averts his eyes from the mirror and listens to the sound of retreating footsteps in the corridor beyond his locked dressing room door. Although no words have been exchanged between them, it is clear that his bewildered father is deeply ashamed of his only son.

The balance has gone. Five years ago, when she first met him, young Mr. Williams was a man with a purpose. Handsome, well dressed, and still in his mid-twenties, he possessed courtesies that belonged to an earlier era. He rose early, and retired early, and drank and smoked only in moderation, and he possessed a fierce ambition and work ethic. And talent. Lord, he had a talent that others could see, but none, she believed, could imagine it in full bloom the way she could. This, she thought, was a man fit for a widow who had already mastered the art of nurturing a man's dreams. This new man had tr...

Revue de presse

“Dancing in the Dark, Caryl Phillips’s haunting novel about the career of Bert Williams, challenges the view that Williams’s black audience appreciated that he was trying to transcend the racial stereotypes of the day . . . [Phillips] recreates the defiant mood at the Marshall Hotel when it was the unofficial headquarters for the young stars of the new black theater . . . Dancing in the Dark is almost reluctant to put a label to the hurt, or to make a display of Williams’s vulnerability. Phillips places the emphasis on Bert Williams’s dignity in his ‘performative bondage’ . . . His and Walker’s frustration as pioneers of black theater is a constant theme in the novel, but the pride and intelligence with which they coped are what Phillips pays homage to . . . In Phillips’s novel, Bert Williams, proud to be inducted into a Masonic lodge in Edinburgh, is far from being a folk figure. Phillips’s characterization of Williams as a man incapable of revealing himself fully to anyone else somehow fits with the atmosphere of his five other novels, all of which concern specific episodes in transatlantic black history. [But] Caryl Phillips’s life is not on display in his work, only his intelligence and his careful, cold prose . . . Maybe Dancing in the Dark, much like Darktown Strutters, shows that as academic theorists become ever more triumphalist concerning the elevation of vernacular culture, the black novelist as alternative historian is free to return to the nobility of defeat as a grand theme.”
–Darryl Pinckney, The New York Review of Books

“Phillips, whose last novel, A Distant Shore, won the 2003 Commonwealth Prize for Literature, has an uncanny gift for writing himself into the lives and homelands of his fictional subjects . . . With his eighth novel, Phillips once again raises the bar for himself. Dancing in the Dark is nothing less than his best work--cerebral, tender, masterful in its scope and vision.”
–The Miami Herald

“Phillips’ wonderfully lyrical prose, smooth and mournful as a cool sax improv, creates an uncanny impression of what it must have felt like to be the ultimate outsider.”
–The Philadelphia Inquirer

“A mesmerizing reimagining of the life of infamous turn-of-the-century mistrel actor Bert Williams. The book will both engage and enrage you.”
–Essence

“[The book’s] strength is in its embattled paradoxes, the unsparing ferocity with which Phillips wields them, and the compassion on whose behalf the ferocity is used.”
–The Boston Globe

“Bert Williams’ place in the cultural history of the United States is essential for the stark relief in which it places some of our most persistant dilemmas about race, entertainment and identity in our national life. We owe thanks to Caryl Phillips for bringing a new generation to Williams’ story--and for adding another terrific novel to his catalog in the process.”
–San Francisco Chronicle

“A serious and accomplished novel that gives new life to a fascinating historical figure. It doesn’t immediately feel groundbreaking. But Phillips, a writer of great skill and even greater patience, is quietly building an important book. He takes his time developing the tensions in Bert William’s distinctive experience of Jim Crow-era America. It isn’t until they finally do erupt that the novel comes into focus as a shattering work of art.”
–The Baltimore Sun

“Bert Williams, Broadway’s first black megastar, masked his pride and intellect by clowning in blackface, artfully appeasing his white audience and creating an ambiguous legacy. Dancing in the Dark is Caryl Phillips’s exquisitely moving novel about a conflicted man whose wife knew him as “a deep ocean of secrets.” Only a writer as profoundly intuitive as Phillips could bring that shrouded history to light.”
–O: The Oprah Magazine

“[A] richly nuanced tone poem of a book . . . Extrapolating from the known facts, the author takes us on a tour of Williams’s divided soul, and the portrait that emerges is heartbreaking . . . With Dancing in the Dark, Phillips has exposed that putative anguish to the light of day, where it shines, brilliantly.”
–Entertainment Weekly

“[An] elegant, painful novel”
–Chicago Tribune

“A provocative, illuminating novel that imagines the inner life and explores the cultural legacy of Bert Williams, the first popular black stage performer of America’s early 20th century . . . [It] will surely cause a stir.”
–Kirkus Reviews

“With each penetrating and resonant book, Phillips opens another window onto the paradoxes and suffering endured by people of color in white-biased societies. In his eighth elegantly restrained yet devastating novel . . . he transports readers to early twentieth-century Harlem and fictionalizes with profound sensitivity and unflinching candor the outwardly successful yet spiritually disastrous life of Bert Williams, a trailblazing Bahamas-born performer . . . Given the drama and beauty of his writing and the freshness of his insights into both personal and social conundrums regarding race and identity, Phillips is in league with Toni Morrison and V.S. Naipaul.”
–Booklist (starred review)

“Phillips is amazing at rendering the wrenching contradictions of “playing the coon” as Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. Du Bois became prominent, and what those contradictions did to Williams’s psyche . . . Brilliant.”
–Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Détails de l'édition

• Éditeur: Alfred a Knopf Inc
• Date d'édition: 2005
• Langue: anglais
• ISBN 10: 1400043964
• ISBN 13: 9781400043965
• Reliure: Relié
• Nombre de pages: 209
• Coordonnées du fabricant: non disponible
• Personne responsable: Authorised Representative Service; ar.info@doceupoint.com; ; 77 Camden Street Lower; Dublin; Dublin; D02 XE80; Irlande