The American Century: Literature since 1945 643“There must not be any preconceived design for what the poem ought to be.”
“The only ‘recognizable tradition’ a poet need follow is himself,” he added, “& with
that, say, all those things out of tradition he can use ... to broaden his own voice
with.” Baraka’s principal involvement at this time, however, was not with the Black
Mountain poets (although some of his earlier poems, such as “In Memory of Radio,”
do resemble projectivist poetry) but with the beats. There have been a number of
black writers associated with the beat generation. Among them is Bob Kaufman
(1925–1986), who, as a collection like Cranial Guitar: Selected Poems by Bob Kaufman
(1996) indicates, has used the long, sweeping line favored by Ginsberg to announce
that “no man is our master,” and addresses the possibility of universal brotherhood
“On this shore.” There is also Ted Joans (1928–2003), whose claim “Jazz is my
religion” is catchily illustrated by poems in collections like Funky Jazz Poems (1959)
and Our Thang (2001) that imitate the abrupt, syncopated movement and startling
dissonances of Ornette Coleman. But Baraka was, at least for a while, the most
innovative and accomplished of the black beat poets, blending influences as disparate
as European Surrealism and Dadaism, the jazz poetry of Vachel Lindsay and
Langston Hughes, the African-American oral tradition, and the music of Charlie
Parker. With these he fashioned poetry that, in marked contrast to his later work,
was determinedly autobiographical, preoccupied with sex and death, and shaped by
existential despair.
An alteration in Baraka’s voice and vision came in the 1960s when, like many
black nationalists, he dispensed with his white “slave name” Leroi Jones and adopted
a title more in keeping with his new self and his new mission. His work became
correspondingly more radical and more involved with issues of racial and national
identity. The plays Dutchman (1964), The Slave (1964), and Slave Ship: A Historical
Pageant (1967) all deal with relations between black and white people. As works of
“revolutionary theater” they demonstrate Baraka’s awareness of himself as a leader
of a Black Arts movement that seeks to use drama as a weapon against American
racism. The episodic novel The System of Dante’s Hell (1965) equates the black slums
of Newark, New Jersey with the Inferno. The various essays of Home: Social Essays
(1966), originally published in a number of liberal and leftist journals, trace his
artistic transformation from black beat poet to father of the Black Arts movement.
And the poems in The Dead Lecturer (1964) represent Baraka’s poetic farewell to the
beats. Marked by an ever-increasing preoccupation with racial issues, these lyrics
crystallize his commitment to revolutionary action and his disavowal of what he saw
as the political decadence of his former compatriots. Other volumes of poetry
followed: Black Magic: Collected Poetry 1961–1967 (1969), It’s Nation Time (1970),
and In Our Terribleness (1970). Other work, such as Blues People: Negro Music in
White America (1963), showed his growing involvement in the African-American
tradition; or, like the work published in Four Black Revolutionary Plays (1969),
showed him reaching out to, and trying to teach, a largely unlettered audience.
Around 1974, Baraka announced a further development in his political ideology
and aesthetic, with a formal commitment to a Marxist-Leninist perspective:
anticipating the overthrow, by blacks and whites alike, of oppressive capitalistGGray_c05.indd 643ray_c 05 .indd 643 8 8/1/2011 7:31:36 PM/ 1 / 2011 7 : 31 : 36 PM