eBook - ePub
Not Without Laughter
Langston Hughes
This is a test
Buch teilen
- 224 Seiten
- English
- ePUB (handyfreundlich)
- Ăber iOS und Android verfĂŒgbar
eBook - ePub
Not Without Laughter
Langston Hughes
Angaben zum Buch
Buchvorschau
Inhaltsverzeichnis
Quellenangaben
Ăber dieses Buch
A shining star of the Harlem Renaissance movement, Langston Hughes is one of modern literature's most revered African-American authors. Although best known for his poetry, Hughes produced in Not Without Laughter a powerful and pioneering classic novel.
This stirring coming-of-age tale unfolds in 1930s rural Kansas. A poignant portrait of African-American family life in the early twentieth century, it follows the story of young Sandy Rogers as he grows from a boy to a man. We meet Sandy's mother, Annjee, who works as a housekeeper for a wealthy white family; his strong-willed grandmother, Hager; Jimboy, Sandy's father, who travels the country looking for work; Aunt Tempy, the social climber; and Aunt Harriet, the blues singer who has turned away from her faith.
A fascinating chronicle of a family's joys and hardships, Not Without Laughter is a vivid exploration of growing up and growing strong in a racially divided society. A rich and important work, it masterfully echoes the black American experience.
This stirring coming-of-age tale unfolds in 1930s rural Kansas. A poignant portrait of African-American family life in the early twentieth century, it follows the story of young Sandy Rogers as he grows from a boy to a man. We meet Sandy's mother, Annjee, who works as a housekeeper for a wealthy white family; his strong-willed grandmother, Hager; Jimboy, Sandy's father, who travels the country looking for work; Aunt Tempy, the social climber; and Aunt Harriet, the blues singer who has turned away from her faith.
A fascinating chronicle of a family's joys and hardships, Not Without Laughter is a vivid exploration of growing up and growing strong in a racially divided society. A rich and important work, it masterfully echoes the black American experience.
HĂ€ufig gestellte Fragen
Wie kann ich mein Abo kĂŒndigen?
Gehe einfach zum Kontobereich in den Einstellungen und klicke auf âAbo kĂŒndigenâ â ganz einfach. Nachdem du gekĂŒndigt hast, bleibt deine Mitgliedschaft fĂŒr den verbleibenden Abozeitraum, den du bereits bezahlt hast, aktiv. Mehr Informationen hier.
(Wie) Kann ich BĂŒcher herunterladen?
Derzeit stehen all unsere auf MobilgerĂ€te reagierenden ePub-BĂŒcher zum Download ĂŒber die App zur VerfĂŒgung. Die meisten unserer PDFs stehen ebenfalls zum Download bereit; wir arbeiten daran, auch die ĂŒbrigen PDFs zum Download anzubieten, bei denen dies aktuell noch nicht möglich ist. Weitere Informationen hier.
Welcher Unterschied besteht bei den Preisen zwischen den AboplÀnen?
Mit beiden AboplÀnen erhÀltst du vollen Zugang zur Bibliothek und allen Funktionen von Perlego. Die einzigen Unterschiede bestehen im Preis und dem Abozeitraum: Mit dem Jahresabo sparst du auf 12 Monate gerechnet im Vergleich zum Monatsabo rund 30 %.
Was ist Perlego?
Wir sind ein Online-Abodienst fĂŒr LehrbĂŒcher, bei dem du fĂŒr weniger als den Preis eines einzelnen Buches pro Monat Zugang zu einer ganzen Online-Bibliothek erhĂ€ltst. Mit ĂŒber 1 Million BĂŒchern zu ĂŒber 1.000 verschiedenen Themen haben wir bestimmt alles, was du brauchst! Weitere Informationen hier.
UnterstĂŒtzt Perlego Text-zu-Sprache?
Achte auf das Symbol zum Vorlesen in deinem nÀchsten Buch, um zu sehen, ob du es dir auch anhören kannst. Bei diesem Tool wird dir Text laut vorgelesen, wobei der Text beim Vorlesen auch grafisch hervorgehoben wird. Du kannst das Vorlesen jederzeit anhalten, beschleunigen und verlangsamen. Weitere Informationen hier.
Ist Not Without Laughter als Online-PDF/ePub verfĂŒgbar?
Ja, du hast Zugang zu Not Without Laughter von Langston Hughes im PDF- und/oder ePub-Format sowie zu anderen beliebten BĂŒchern aus Literature & Classics. Aus unserem Katalog stehen dir ĂŒber 1Â Million BĂŒcher zur VerfĂŒgung.
Information
Thema
LiteratureThema
ClassicsVIII. DANCE
Mrs. J. J. Rice and family usually spent ten days during the August heat at Lake Dale, and thither they had gone now, giving Annjee a forced vacation with no pay. Jimboy was not working, and so his wife found ten days of rest without income not especially agreeable. Nevertheless, she decided that she might as well enjoy the time; so she and Jimboy went to the country for a week with Cousin Jessie, who had married one of the colored farmers of the district. Besides, Annjee thought that Jimboy might help on the farm and so make a little money. Anyway, they would get plenty to eat, because Jessie kept a good table. And since Jessie had eight children of her own, they did not take Sandy with themâeight were enough for a woman to be worried with at one time!
Aunt Hager had been ironing all day on the Reinhartsâ clothesâit was Friday. At seven oâclock Harriett came home, but she had already eaten her supper at the restaurant where she worked.
âHello, mama! Hy, Sandy!â she said, but that was all, because she and her mother were not on the best of terms. Aunt Hager was attempting to punish her youngest daughter by not allowing her to leave the house after dark, since Harriett, on Tuesday night, had been out until one oâclock in the morning with no better excuse than a party at Maudelâs. Aunt Hager had threatened to whip her then and there that night.
âYou ainât had a switch on yoâ hide foâ three years, but donât think youâs gettinâ too big foâ me not to fan yoâ behind, madam. âSpare de rod anâ spoil de chile,â thatâs what de Bible say, anâ Lawd knows you sho is spoiled! De idee of a young gal yoâ age stayinâ out till one oâclock in de mawninâ, anâ me not knowed where youâs at.... Donât you talk back to me! . . . You rests in this house everâ night this week anâ donât put yoâ foot out oâ this yard after you comes from work, thatâs what you do. Lawd knows I donât know what Iâs gonna do with you. I works foâ you anâ I prays foâ you, anâ if you donât mind, Iâs sho gonna whip you, even if you is goinâ on seventeen years old!â
Tonight as soon as she came from work Harriett went into her motherâs room and lay across the bed. It was very warm in the little four-room house, and all the windows and doors were open.
âWeâs got some watermelon here, daughter,â Hager called from the kitchen. âDonât you want a nice cool slice?â
âNo,â the girl replied. She was fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan, her legs in their cheap silk stockings hanging over the side of the bed, and her heels kicking the floor. Benbowâs Band played tonight for the dance at Chaverâs Hall, and everybody was goingâbut her. Gee, it was hard to have a Christian mother! Harriett kicked her slippers off with a bang and rolled over on her stomach, burying her powdery face in the pillows.... Somebody knocked at the back door.
A boyâs voice was speaking excitedly to Hager: âHemorrhages . . . and papa canât stop âem . . . sheâs coughinâ something terrible . . . says canât you please come over and help himââfrightened and out of breath.
âDo, Jesus!â cried Hager. âIâll be with you right away, chile. Donât worry.â She rushed into the bedroom to change her apron. âYou Harriett, listen; Sister Laneâs taken awful sick anâ Jimmy says sheâs bleedinâ from de mouth. If I ainât back by nine oâclock, see that that chile Sandyâs in de bed. Anâ you know you ainât to leave this yard under no circumstances.... Poâ Misâ Lane! She sho do have it hard.â In a whisper: âI âspects sheâs got de T. B., that what I âspects!â And the old woman hustled out to join the waiting youngster. Jimmy was leaning against the door, looking at Sandy, and neither of the boys knew what to say. Jimmy Lane wore his motherâs cast-off shoes to school, and Sandy used to tease him, but tonight he didnât tease his friend about his shoes.
âYou go to bed âfore it gets late,â said his grandmother, starting down the alley with Jimmy.
âYesâm,â Sandy called after her. âSo long, Jim!â He stood under the apple-tree and watched them disappear.
Aunt Hager had scarcely gotten out of sight when there was a loud knock at the front door, and Sandy ran around the house to see Harriettâs boy friend, Mingo, standing in the dusk outside the screen-door, waiting to be let in.
Mingo was a patent-leather black boy with wide, alive nostrils and a mouth that split into a lighthouse smile on the least provocation. His body was heavy and muscular, resting on bowed legs that curved backward as though the better to brace his chunky torso; and his hands were hard from mixing concrete and digging ditches for the cityâs new water-mains.
âI know itâs tonight, but I canât go,â Sandy heard his aunt say at the door. They were speaking of Benbowâs dance. âAnd his band donât come here often, neither. Iâm heart-sick having to stay home, dog-gone it all, especially this evening!â
âAw come on and go anyway,â pleaded Mingo. âAfter I been savinâ up my dough for two weeks to take you, and got my suit cleaned and pressed and all. Heck! If you couldnât go and knew it yesterday, why didnât you tell me? Thatâs a swell way to treat a fellow!â
âBecause I wanted to go,â said Harriett; âand still want to go.... Donât make so much difference about mama, because sheâs mad anyhow . . . but what could we do with this kid? We canât leave him by himself.â She looked at Sandy, who was standing behind Mingo listening to everything.
âYou can take me,â the child offered anxiously, his eyes dancing at the delightful prospect. âIâll behave, Harrie, if you take me, and I wonât tell on you either.... Please lemme go, Mingo. I ainât never seen a big dance in my life. I wanta go.â
âShould we?â asked Harriett doubtfully, looking at her boy friend standing firmly on his curved legs.
âSure, if we got to have him . . . damn âim!â Mingo replied. âBetter the kid than no dance. Go git dressed.â So Harriett made a dash for the clothes-closet, while Sandy ran to get a clean waist from one of his motherâs dresser-drawers, and Mingo helped him put it on, cussing softly to himself all the while. âBut it ainât your fault, pal, is it?â he said to the little boy.
âSure not,â Sandy replied. âI didnât tell Aunt Hager to make Harrie stay home. I tried to âsuade grandma to let her go,â the child lied, because he liked Mingo. âI guess she wonât care about her goinâ to just one dance.â He wanted to make everything all right so the young man wouldnât be worried. Besides, Sandy very much wanted to go himself.
âLetâs beat it,â Harriett shrilled excitedly before her dress was fastened, anxious to be gone lest her mother come home. She was powdering her face and neck in the next room, nervous, happy, and afraid all at once. The perfume, the voice, and the pat, pat, pat of the powder-puff came out to the waiting gentleman.
âYoâ carâs here, madam,â mocked Mingo. âStep right this way and letâs be going!â
Wonder where ma easy riderâs goneâ
He done left me, put ma new gold watch in pawn!
He done left me, put ma new gold watch in pawn!
Like a blare from hell the second encore of Easy Rider filled every cubic inch of the little hall with hip-rocking notes. Benbow himself was leading and the crowd moved like jelly-fish dancing on individual sea-shells, with Mingo and Harriett somewhere among the shakers. But they were not of them, since each couple shook in a world of its own, as, with a weary wail, the music abruptly ceased.
Then, after scarcely a breath of intermission, the band struck up again with a lazy one-step. A tall brown boy in a light tan suit walked his partner straight down the whole length of the floor and, when he reached the corner, turned leisurely in one spot, body riding his hips, eyes on the ceiling, and his girl shaking her full breasts against his pink silk shirt. Then they recrossed the width of the room, turned slowly, repeating themselves, and began again to walk rhythmically down the hall, while the music was like a lazy river flowing between mountains, carving a canyon coolly, calmly, and without insistence. The Lazy River One-Step they might have called what the band was playing as the large crowd moved with the greatest ease about the hall. To drum-beats barely audible, the tall boy in the tan suit walked his partner round and round time after time, revolving at each corner with eyes uplifted, while the piano was the water flowing, and the high, thin chords of the banjo were the mountains floating in the clouds. But in sultry tones, alone and always, the brass cornet spoke harshly about the earth.
Sandy sat against the wall in a hard wooden folding chair. There were other children scattered lonesomely about on chairs, too, watching the dancers, but he didnât seem to know any of them. When the music stopped, all the chairs quickly filled with loud-talking women and girls in brightly colored dresses who fanned themselves with handkerchiefs and wiped their sweating brows. Sandy thought maybe he should give his seat to one of the women when he saw Maudel approaching.
âHere, honey,â she said. âTake this dime and buy yourself a bottle of something cold to drink. I know Harriett ainât got you on her mind out there dancinâ. This music is certainly righteous, chile!â She laughed as she handed Sandy a coin and closed her pocketbook. He liked Maudel, although he knew his grandmother didnât. She was a large good-natured brown-skinned girl who walked hippishly and used too much rouge on her lips. But she always gave Sandy a dime, and she was always laughing.
He went through the crowd towards the soft-drink stand at the end of the hall. âGimme a bottle oâ cream soda,â he said to the fat orange-colored man there, who had his sleeves rolled up and a white butcherâs-apron covering his barrel-like belly. The man put his hairy arms down into a zinc tub full of ice and water and began pulling out bottles, looking at their caps, and then dropping them back into the cold liquid.
âDonât seem like we got no cream, sonny. Howâd a lemon do you?â he asked above the bedlam of talking voices.
âNaw,â said Sandy. âItâs too sour.â
On the improvised counter of boards the wares displayed consisted of cracker-jacks, salted peanuts, a box of gum, and Sen Sens, while behind the counter was a lighted oil-stove holding a tin pan full of spareribs, sausage, and fish; and near it an ice-cream freezer covered with a brown sack. Some cases of soda were on the floor beside the zinc tub filled with bottles, in which the man was still searching.
âNope, no cream,â said the fat man.
âWell, gimme a fish sandwich then,â Sandy replied, feeling very proud because some kids were standing near, looking at him as he made his purchase like a grown man.
âBuy me one, too,â suggested a biscuit-colored little girl in a frilly dirty-white dress.
âI only got a dime,â Sandy said. âBut you can have half of mine.â And he gallantly broke in two parts the double square of thick bread, with its hunk of greasy fish between, and gravely handed a portion to the grinning little girl.
âThanks,â she said, running away with the bread and fish in her hands.
âShame on you!â teased a small boy, rubbing his forefingers at Sandy. âYou got a girl! You got a girl!â
âGo chase yourself!â Sandy replied casually, as he picked out the bones and smacked his lips on the sweet fried fish. The orchestra was playing another one-step, with the dancers going like shuttles across the floor. Sandy saw his Aunt Harriett and a slender yellow boy named Billy Sanderlee doing a series of lazy, intricate steps as they wound through the crowd from one end of the hall to the other. Certain less accomplished couples were watching them with admiration.
Sandy, when he had finished eating, decided to look for the wash-room, where he could rinse his hands, because they were greasy and smelled fishy. It was at the far corner of the hall. As he pushed open the door marked GENTS, a thick grey cloud of cigarette-smoke drifted out. The stench of urine and gin and a crowd of men talking, swearing, and drinking licker surrounded the little boy as he elbowed his way towards the wash-bowls. All the fellows were shouting loudly to one another and making fleshy remarks about the women they had danced with.
âBoy, you ought to try Velma,â a mahogany-brown boy yelled. âShe sure can go.â
âHell,â answered a whisky voice somewhere in the smoke. âThat nappy-headed black woman? Gimme a high yaller for mine all de time. I canât use no coal!â
âWell, de blacker de berry, de sweeter de juice,â protested a slick-haired ebony youth in the center of the place.... âAinât that right, sport?â he demanded of Sandy, grabbing him jokingly by the neck and picking him up.
âI guess it is,â said the child, scared, and the men laughed.
âHere, kid, buy yourself a drink,â the slick-headed boy said, slipping Sandy a nickel as he set him down gently at the door. âAnd be sure itâs popânot gin.â
Outside, the youngster dried his wet hands on a handkerchief, blinked his smoky eyes, and immediately bought the soda, a red strawberry liquid in a long, thick bottle.
Suddenly and without warning the cornet blared at the other end of the hall in an ear-splitting wail: âWhaw! . . . Whaw! . . . Whaw! . . . Whaw!â and the snare-drum rolled in answer. A pause . . . then the loud brassy notes were repeated and the banjo came in, âPlinka, plink, plink,â like timid drops of rain after a terrific crash of thunder. Then quite casually, as though nothing had happened, the piano lazied into a slow drag, with all the other instruments following. And with the utmost nonchalance the drummer struck into time.
âEverâbody shake!â cried Benbow, as a ribbon of laughter swirled round the hall.
Couples began to sway languidly, melting together like candy in the sun as hips rotated effortlessly to the music. Girls snuggled pomaded heads on menâs chests, or rested powdered chins on menâs shoulders, while wild young boys put both arms tightly around their partnersâ waists and let their hands hang down carelessly over female haunches. Bodies moved ever so easily togetherâever so easily, as Benbow turned towards his musicians and cried through cupped hands: âAw, screech it, boys!â
A long, tall, gangling gal stepped back from her partner, adjusted her hips, and did a few easy, gliding steps all her own before her man grabbed her again.
âEu-o-oo-ooo-oooo!â moaned the cornet titillating with pain, as the banjo cried in stop-time, and the piano sobbed aloud with a rhythmical, secret passion. But the drums kept up their hard steady laughterâlike somebody who donât care.
âI see you plowinâ, Uncle Walt,â called a little autumn-leaf brown with switching skirts to a dark-purple man grinding down the center of the floor with a yellow woman. Two short prancing blacks stopped in their tracks to quiver violently. A bushy-headed girl threw out her arms, snapped her fingers, and began to holler: âHey! . . . Hey!â while her perspiring partner held doggedly to each hip in an effort to keep up with her. All over the hall, people danced their own individual movements to the scream and moan of the music.
âGet low . . . low down . . . down!â cried the drummer, bouncing like a rubber ball in his chair. The banjo scolded in diabolic glee, and the cornet panted as though it were out of breath, and Benbow himself left the band and came out on the floor to dance slowly and ecstatically with a large Indian-brown woman covered with diamonds.
âAw, do it, Mister Benbow!â one of his admirers shouted frenziedly as the hall itself seemed to tremble.
âHigh yallers, draw nigh! Brown-skins, come near!â somebody squalled. âBut black gals, stay where you are!â
âWhaw! Whaw! Whaw!â mocked the cornetâbut the steady tomtom of the drums was no longer laughter now, no longer even pleasant: the drum-beats had become sharp with surly sound, like heavy waves that beat angrily on a granite rock. And under the dissolute spell of its own rhythm the music had got quite beyond itself. The four bla...