Commentary: Black Leopard Red Wolf by Marlon James
Marlon James’ BLACK LEOPARD RED WOLF is the most impressive book I’ve read thus far in my life.
Lauralei’s Instagram @rebelmouthedbooks: https://www.instagram.com/p/BwiJO46nXnp/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
For many people, Black Leopard Red Wolf is impressive for its language— thick and wandering, yet also strangely blunt. But this was not my reason. For many people, the book is impressive for its fantasy— for the West African mythology at its root that is perplexing in its blend of violence and tenderness. But this was not my reason. For many people, the book is impressive for its vast world-building, for its depth of characters, and for its twists in story that often befuddle before they reveal themselves; time and patience are the best friends of this story. But this was not my reason.
These reasons are all true, but also customary of the rest of literature and how we discuss writing. But to me, this book was beyond customary; it was something wholly new. Its hallucinations lured me closer and closer to the truths of the book— as every book tells us its own truths. But, each time I gained a step closer, the story shot me backward, onto my ass, wondering what had just happened. I believe others felt this too, but to some, such elusiveness resembled obstruction. They perceive this as the writer trying to keep them from the truth, from understanding, from clarity. But this I feel comes from an impatience we readers have— an impatience with life. We want answers before we even know what it is we are asking. Much like the characters in this tale— who search for a boy though they know not why or why he matters to them— we readers do the same. We search and grow tired when things are not given to us immediately and clearly.
What impressed me about this book was that it taught me patience. I began this book like anyone else. I began impatiently, at times confused, at times irritated, but mostly awestruck. I followed that awe forward, and I’m happy that I did.
The book itself says, “at the end of a true story, there is nothing but waste.” There is rarely a purpose in real life. We live and we die. We love and suffer. We wander. I discovered not waste at the end of this book, but instead a beautiful hope.
To see this book in existence— to be alive now in this book’s age— I felt immense hope for the future. For Black Leopard Red Wolf to exist at all, there must be good in the world. We just sometimes have to be patient with ourselves and others to find it.