Interesting story about "urban lit" on NPR's Morning Edition last week [Wed 10/14/2009]. If you missed the broadcast, you can listen online.
This is a genre we hear about periodically from big-city libraries, and we've done our best to provide some audio offerings on Playaway. To date, we offer the following titles, with more on the way:
Ride or Die Chick by J.M. Benjamin
K'wan Presents Bullet Proof Love by Sonny F. Black
Shyt List by Reign (launches on Playaway 12/1/2010 - please don't ask me how this one is pronounced)
Publisher-provided BISAC codes for the these titles list them as FIC048000: Urban Life, FIC049000: African American/General, and FIC049070: African American/Urban Life.
What exactly is Urban Lit (sometimes also called Street Lit, Urban Fiction, or Black Pulp Fiction)? As is often the case with genre designations, a precise meaning can be difficult to pin down. Generally, the term refers to recent works depicting mostly African-American characters and most often set in a "Gangsta" world of street crime, drugs, money, guns, and violence.
But this kind of literature isn't necessarily so new. Nelson Algren (1909-1981), author of the 1949 National Book Award winner The Man With the Golden Arm, wrote tales of this sort beginning in the 1930's and 40's. He famously described himself as a chronicler of "drunks, pimps, prostitutes, freaks, drug addicts, prize fighters, corrupt politicians, and hoodlums."
Incidentally, Man With the Golden Arm and Never Come Morning (1942) have both been produced in audio by Blackstone and are available on Playaway. (Never Come Morning launches on 1/1/2010.)
Is the new Urban Lit a deathless art form that will stand the test of centuries? Uhh... I'll get back to you on that.
Does it resonate with a certain demographic that might not otherwise be very inspired to read for pleasure? It looks like maybe it does. Certainly that's the thrust of the NPR story. Curious, I gave a listen to Ride or Die Chick by J.M. Benjamin.
Is it splendidly written? No, not really. Sometimes words are used incorrectly or ungrammatically, but that doesn't set it apart from too many other works of literature. Narrator Hassan Johnson reads it with authenticity and brings the dialogue to life.
Is it misogynistic? A glance at the bikini-clad woman on the cover might make you think that it would be, but in fact, there are some interesting takes on gender, sexuality, and identity. Treacherous Freeman, the hero, tells his female sidekick Teflon Jackson to "man up," when he fears she's going soft on him. But, when he contemplates the possibility of losing her, the love of his life and his "better half," he crys "gangsta tears" -- the kind that are only on the inside. Treacherous himself was cared for from infancy by a gun-toting single dad, for whom raising a child was "his biggest challenge as a man."
Does it glorify violence and criminal behavior? Yes, arguably it does. But since when does that disqualify a book from being immensely popular? (The new R. Crumb illustrated edition of The Book of Genesis carries a tongue-in-check warning label advising: "Adult supervision recommended for minors.")
Is there profanity? Yes, of course, and plenty of it. But we've been used to that since Catcher in the Rye, right?
Explicit sex scenes? Yah, you betcha -- very explicit. This initially came as a shocker to me and some of my colleagues, until we compared it to the scenes in those Lisa Kleypas and Stephanie Laurens romances that respectable library patrons routinely gobble up. And certainly it's nothing that readers of the recently deceased best-selling author E. Lynn Harris haven't encountered in his works (some of which are occasionally classified as Urban Lit). Interestingly, the themes of monogamy, commitment, and true love keep coming up.
Also interesting is the fact that, although many aspects of life on the streets are rationalized ("others took the risks of making it, but Treacherous and Teflon took the risks of taking it"), the book's heroes assiduously avoid the drug scene. And Treacherous, the tough, armed-to-the-teeth, motorcycle-riding gangsta hero/anti-hero is actually a reader -- one of several personality traits that set him apart from the hoods, hustlers, and players who populate the story. He especially likes the works of Donald Goines (1937-1974) and Iceberg Slim (1918-1992), two pioneers of the Urban Lit genre. (And by the way, he and Teflon do wear their motorcycle helmets.)
Does this tale of a "treacherous, free man" have "redeeming social importance" or is it just some people's idea of a good read? I'll let individual readers and listeners be the judge of that.
Can it promote literacy and a general interest in literature among reluctant readers of all ages? Maybe. What do you think? Click on the "comments" link below and share your opinion.
