A review by nickdleblanc
No Name in the Street by James Baldwin

3.0

in which a brilliant man talks shit about the 60s and early 70s. I left this book with less of a picture of an era and more an impression of a powerful and insightful mind. In it, Baldwin details what blackness means to him, what it is like to travel as a black American, and the struggles of being alive and aware in a corrupt American system where no one properly values their life, black, white, or otherwise. The book has an energetic tone, as if written quickly and angrily. He seems to be responding to a perception that had apparently developed around him at the time—one that I was unaware of—that he was not militant enough and that he was too close to white interests. He explains how both Malcolm and Martin had trepidation when dealing with him due to this reputation. This book reads like a repudiation of that, where he very eloquently and insightfully dives into the psychology of Americans and the system which so powerfully shapes who we are—as well as represses and/or exploits our potential. It is written very clearly with tight, intelligent prose and good vocabulary. A good read, though similar to Dick Gregory’s autobiography in that the social parallels between the 60s/70s and now are almost too much to bear for the thoughtful person.
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tl;dr—More of a fiery hot take sort of journal entry than a memoir, but worth diving into just to hear Baldwin riff about why people think and act the way they do. #2020readsnl