I can clearly remember trying to kill time between connections in Denver airport, walking into a small book store, my eyes alighting on shelf after shelf packed with hagiographies of Obama, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Harriet Tubman and Elijah Muhammad. Then in the fiction section row after row of paperbacks by Ralph Ellison, Richard Wright, James Baldwin, Alex Haley, Alice Walker, Maya Angelou and Ntozake Shange.
A disconcerting incident that I tried to put out of my mind but one that came rushing back to me like a nightmarish flashback when I read that Barnes & Noble had recently released diverse editions of twelve classic texts written by white authors including Alice in Wonderland, Moby Dick, The Secret Garden, The Count of Monte Cristo, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Emma, Peter Pan and Treasure Island. With cover images of others depicting a melanin-enriched Frankenstein aping Mary Shelley’s original creation and a hijab-clad Juliet from Shakespeare’s tragic romance.
A mere coincidence one may think. Nothing to get alarmed about until I opened a copy of the influential Times Literary Review (TLS) only to be confronted by ecstatic articles about race-hustling reparations advocate Ta-Nehisi Coates’s The Water Dancer, with quotes like “Race is the child of racism, not the father…the enslaved were not bricks in your road, and their lives were not chapters in your redemptive history. They were people turned to fuel for the American machine.”
Followed rapidly by Jacqueline Woodson’s Red at the Bone which focuses Oklahoma’s alleged Black Wall Street back in 1921, Stephanie Sy-Quia’s Such a Fun Age about African American culture being stereotyped by an unfriendly media and young blacks being put in handcuffs for acting out at Starbucks, Colin Grant’s Homecoming – Voices of the Windrush Generation; which we are told is a fascinating tapestry of immigrant stories, Tessa McWatt’s Shame on Me: An Anatomy of Race and Belonging, and Ibrahim X. Kendi’s How to be an Anti-Racist, in which the author asserts “Racism is the most aggressive cancer humanity has ever known.”
An endless litany of pro-Black propaganda and spite-filled grievance mixed with a generous helping of unearned entitlement that has little regard for historical accuracy or the normal standards of literary merit. Trash that publishers like Weidenfeld & Nicholson, Hamish Hamilton, Bloomsbury, Cape and Bodley Head propagate on their “Must Read” lists and sit prominently alongside the massively marketed Michelle Obama’s memoir ‘Belonging’ in bookshop window displays. Mrs Obama talking incessantly about how she, the first black First Lady, values her roots in Chicago’s South-Side and found her voice while fighting for equality.
While at the same time Liberal-Left “Luvvie” editors sitting comfortably in their plush executive offices bin submissions by western traditionalists, literary agents reject anything that does not follow the politically-correct paradigm and Jeff Bezos’s Amazon bans books that contravene their supposed “Community Standards”, unless of course they are written by brazenly anti-white LGBT personalities.
Opening the door for The Times of London to introduce their new Podcaster, Manween Rana, who is obsessed with the plight of Syrian refugees; a so-called British schoolchild of south-east Asian descent playing Peter Pan in a forthcoming movie adaption of the much-loved J.M. Barrie novel of 1911, Santanu Das exaggerating the significance of the role played by Third World soldiers in his book India, Empire and the First World War Culture, and the indigenous playwright Yolanda Bonnell insisting that only black critics should be allowed to critique her works, and The Guardian’s Chief Theater critic, Arifa Akbar, unsurprisingly supporting such a ludicrous proposal.
So my question to you, dear reader, is when are we going to boycott the cartel of mainly alien-owned publishers who continue to abuse our literature, the Arts Councils who excrete on our culture and propagandists who distort our history and defame European people? Or are we merely going to meekly succumb and be submerged under this coprophilia-like wave of reeking black dung?