Jamaican novelist and poet Claude McKay: Living in two worlds

Perhaps a restless man

Claude McKay, a novelist and poet of the Harlem Renaissance, was born in a small place in rural Jamaica called Sunny Ville, in the parish of Clarendon, on September 15, 1899. His parents were farmers; his brother Uriah Theodore, a teacher, was very influential in his life and overwhelmed young Claude with books from an early age. Not a bad thing to happen! McKay’s first book of verse, written in Jamaican patwa and published in Kingston before he set off on his travels in 1912, was the catalyst for the life he subsequently embarked on. After studying agriculture on a grant in Kansas, he ended up in the great city of New York, immersed in writing.

Reading a little more about McKay’s life and career, it struck me that, like many Jamaicans, he was restless. He moved around, he traveled, he explored - not only physically, but intellectually and emotionally. Given half the chance, this is what many Jamaicans do, no matter what background they come from.

In photographs, McKay has a round, open face, which looks as if it could burst into smiles and laughter at any moment. Nevertheless, in his writing he reflected the injustices and plight of black people in Jamaica and in the United States. I have his novel “Home to Harlem,” which explicitly portrays the harsh scrabble of black urban life. McKay also took an interest in communism. After traveling in the Soviet Union (among other countries), however, he became disillusioned; later in his relatively short life (he died age 58) he converted to Catholicism.

I learned more from my Jamaican friend Jean Lowrie-Chin, who talked about Claude McKay on local radio this afternoon; her Masters degree at the University of the West Indies is entitled “The evolution of the black female character in Claude McKay’s novels.” Jean (who describes herself as a “McKay groupie”!) believes “Banana Bottom,” which he wrote in Tangier, Morocco, is his greatest. It tells the story of a young Jamaican woman returning home after years abroad - perhaps speculating on his own possible return? McKay was also very homesick; I don’t think he returned, himself.

Speaking of Morocco, McKay was greatly influenced by the ninth-century poet Antarah ibn Shaddad, a black hero warrior poet, who was born a slave.

Did the green hills of Clarendon, Jamaica, call him back, at least in his heart and mind? We visited there several years ago, to Claude McKay High School in James Hill, and I wrote about the experience. We traveled a long way into the hills, where trees flowered red, and crossed the Sukee River, which McKay wrote about. There was a drought on, so the hills were not so green, and the little river not quite so crystal… Here’s my photo below.

“I shall love you ever, dearest Sukee River: Dash against my broken heart, Nevermore from you I’ll part; But will stay forever, Crystal Sukee River.”