Ways of Sunlight

by Samuel Selvon, 1957

I picked this book from my uncle’s estate, thinking that it was a link to our distant heritage in Trinidad. It covers a time when he and my mom would have been growing up in Port of Spain. It does give an interesting picture of rural life in post-war Trinidad, as well as the life of Trini immigrants to London.

  These stories describe a class quite different from my middle-class white family, although I think they would have been exposed to this life on their visits to family in the country. Certainly, the Caribbean patois that Selvon uses for many of the stories would have been familiar to them, and I could hear the rhythm of their voices in Selvon’s language. (Actually, the patois Selvon uses is much easier to follow than the language my mom uses when she wants to mimic the Trinidad islanders. But it still slows down a reader like me who wants to hear the voices in a naturalistic tone and rhythm.)

  Selvon describes people with a lot of humour and spirit. These people are mostly the South Asian immigrant workers who form the agricultural working class of the countryside, living in farms and villages in almost medieval conditions. The indigenous Caribbean heritage that remains is reflected only in references to Obeah, a form of country magic like voodoo.

  The brief stories of how the islanders get on in London particularly turn on a kind of irony. One islander fakes work for London Transport, another scams to buy a coat for his girlfriend, others put Obeah on a house when the landlord forces them out. It sounds a bit patronizing to reduce them to these simple stories, but they don’t seem patronizing in Selvon’s writing. His characters are all individuals trying to respond to challenging lives with whatever resources they have. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn’t. Selvon’s simple, concrete writing gives a very clear picture of working class life, both home in Trinidad and in London.

  It’s interesting to see the level of under-development that was apparently commonplace in Trinidad at the time. Selvon describes families who face starvation when one villager controls the town’s well, and illiterate villagers who work to support one member of the family getting an education and a break for the whole family. The references to Obeah are interesting, too – not part of my family history, but it fits with a distinct sense of class superiority that is in the family. Selvon points to these issues by setting his first story on a large plantation, where conditions are quite affluent for the British owners. The story focuses on the impossibility of a relationship between the British and the Indian agricultural workers in the villages, and the conflict the hoped-for relationship creates, putting all the stories that follow in a context of imperialism and racism.

  Selvon ignores the sexism of the culture, or perhaps he observes it without comment. It’s clearly reflected in the way the male characters talk about the women, and in the women themselves, that they are there essentially as a partner for the men and a support for their families. They are secondary characters in the stories where they appear at all, even when they drive a key plot point, such as selling access to the water well. Selvon just seems to have no interest in them as characters.

  I’m glad I picked up this book, and I’ll look forward to finding more of Selvon’s books, particularly from later in his career when he deals with more contemporary conditions. These stories make me think that I should look for books by other Caribbean writers, especially V.S. Naipaul, whom I’ve been wanting to read for some time, but not gotten around to.