Dr. Shaun Duke, Professional Nerd

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10 Caribbean Books You Should Read At Least Once

As a fan of Caribbean literature who has spent quite a lot of his life reading and thinking about it, it seemed appropriate to finally do one of those “hey, these are the books you should read” lists. And so, I sat down to think about the works I think everyone should read (at least once) from the Caribbean, both in fiction and non-fiction.

The list below reflects a combination of my personal interests in Caribbean literature and my academic research in postcolonialism, the Caribbean, and transnational American literature (though not my other academic interests beyond science fiction). This list will, by the limitations of numbers, be incomplete. It will reflect the reading experience of one person. There are hundreds and hundreds of other works of Caribbean literature and criticism and numerous islands not represented here (a list of 10 cannot possibly get them all). Heck, that’s why I included “alternatives” here because there were people left off a list of 10 and it made me sad. Treat this list as a fun starting point of important works. If you’re not familiar with the literature of the reason, this list might help get you started. If you are, maybe it will fill some gaps!

And for those who have read all of these, consider leaving a comment letting me know about other works you think folks should read at least once!

Here goes:

1. Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson (2000)

You could easily cite Hopkinson as the speculative author to break open the publication door for Caribbean authors with an oversized bulldozer. Her debut novel, Brown Girl in the Ring, was a winner of the Warner Aspect First Novel Contest and a Locus Award for Best First Novel; it was also instrumental in Hopkinson winning a John W. Campbell (now Astounding) Award for Best New Writer.

While I adore that novel (see the alternative below), I consider Midnight Robber to be her greatest work. A brilliant novel in the critical utopia tradition, it imagines two drastically different Caribbean realities: one imagining a futuristic Caribbean space colony and one imagining a world (technically a prison) where Caribbean folklore is real. It is a heart-wrenching work with extraordinary characters, an utterly fascinating extrapolative vision, and perhaps some of the best SF writing since the turn of the century. Plus, I wrote an entire chapter on it for my dissertation (and Hopkinson attended a presentation of my research once, which was an experience).

Alternative: Brown Girl in the Ring (1998)

2. Emmanuel Appadocca; or, Blighted Life: A Tale of the Boucaneers by Michel Maxwell Philip (1854)

A critically underrated work, Philip’s Emmanuel Appadocca is one of the first novels written by an Afro-Caribbean author. Philip was a Trinidadian lawyer who eventually went on to serve as Solicitor-General and became the first black man to hold the position of mayor in Port of Spain. While he is perhaps best known for his role as a civil servant, he also made a splash with his one and only published novel.

It follows a mixed-race man who becomes the captain of a cosmopolitan pirate ship in search of vengeance against the white father who abandoned him and, by extension, the British Empire. It is perhaps the earliest work of genre in the Caribbean and features some of the period’s flirtations with speculation. But it’s mostly a work of moral outrage, piracy, and anti-colonialism. Almost nobody has read it, and that really should change!

Alternative: Adolphus, A Tale by Anonymous (1853)

3. The Repeating Island: The Caribbean and the Postmodern Perspective by Antonio Benítez-Rojo (1992)

One of the few nonfiction works on this list, Benítez-Rojo’s The Repeating Island is a significant theoretical and philosophical work from the Caribbean. It attempts to redefine the Caribbean using chaos theory to explore the plethora of paradoxes that exist within the region, drawing connections across the islands via history, literature, anthropology, and other fields. It’s an unusual work which captures the seeming contradictions, disjointed-nesses, and diverse literatures and cultures of the region (imperfectly, perhaps). More a positivist work than a critique, The Repeating Island gives us a different way of looking at the region. Highly recommended!

Alternative: In the Castle of My Skin by George Lamming (1953)

4. The Assault (El Asalto) by Reinaldo Arenas (1990)

Arenas came to the United States as part of the Mariel Boatlift after over a decade of persecution in his home of Cuba (for his political views and homosexuality). In the U.S., he wrote critically of the Cuban government, published poetry and novels (aspects of which were written while in a Cuban prison), and sadly died in 1990 (it’s sad; google it if you must).

Among his works is the Pentagonia, a series of five standalone novels focused what he called the secret history of Cuba. The Assault is the last of these and has been described as a Kafkaesque futuristic satire of Cuba. It’s hard to describe this book beyond that. Arenas’ vision is potent, laden with Orwellian tension, and addresses some striking themes of oppression, repressed homosexuality, and more. Perhaps the most horrifying image that sticks with me is one of the workers lining up in insectile trains of bodies (like millipedes of perfectly-synced bodies) and walking/running to work or home. It’s an extraordinary work.

Alternative: The Kingdom of the World by Alejo Carpentier (1949)

5. Ragamuffin by Tobias S. Buckell (2007)

If you know me, then you shouldn’t be shocked to see a Tobias S. Buckell book here. I can’t be 100% sure on this, but I think Buckell is the only Caribbean writer to explore the space opera genre, and certainly the only one to do so over several novels. Technically, this is the second book in the Xenowealth Saga, but it marks a dramatic genre departure from Crystal Rain, the first book, taking us from a steampunk-ish tale to a space opera (arguably, new space opera).

Imagine, if you will, a story of a vast interstellar empire run by a giant alien intelligence and its mostly alien (sometimes human) agents, which can control access to the network of wormholes needed for interstellar travel. Then imagine what that might look like if the descendants of Caribbean people lived in this new future and, with the help of some friends, eventually fought to upend interstellar imperialism. That’s this book. In similar fashion as Emmanuel Appadocca, Ragamuffin is a striking anti-colonial work, and you probably should read it now before the world ends…

Alternative: Arctic Rising (2012)

6. A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid (1988)

This might be the one book that sent me down the path of postcolonial theory and literature. Kincaid is one of the most respective contemporary Caribbean writers. Her work has earned her a Guggenheim Award for Fiction, two shortlistings for PEN/Faulkner, an American Academy of Arts and Letters (and Arts and Sciences) award, and numerous other honors. If you asked me to pick just one of her works to read over and over, it would be A Small Place.

Kincaid’s book-length essay unflinchingly attacks colonial heritage, the tourist industry, and hierarchies in Antigua, ideas which have wide application across the Caribbean. Much of her writing draws on personal experience and is deliberately political, and A Small Place is no exception. If you need an introduction to the legacies of colonialism in Antigua, this is the work to start with!

Alternative: The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L’Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution by C.L.R. James (1936)

7. Redemption in Indigo by Karen Lord (2010)

When Karen Lord exploded onto the genre scene with Redemption in Indigo in 2010, I don’t know if folks realized just how much impact it would have. Lord has since gone on to write a range of unique works, including other notable books like The Best of All Possible Worlds and, most recently, Unraveling. Redemption in Indigo, however, is the definition of a breakout work. It earned her the Carl Brandon Parallax, Mythopoeic, Crawford, and World Fantasy awards and got longlisted for the Bocas Prize for Caribbean Literature, which is saying something given that Bocas has been historically a non-genre space (sorta kinda).

Those awards are well-earned, of course. Redemption in Indigo is a beautifully-written work of the fantastic brimming with a fairy tale wonder and potent themes of power and self. Much like Hopkinson’s work, Lord’s novel draws heavily on Caribbean/African folklore, spinning a slippery tale worth re-reading again and again. If you were to make a top 10 genre novels by Caribbean writers, this would be in the top 5 both for significance and beauty. Read it. You won’t be disappointed.

Alternative: The Lesson by Cadwell Turnbull (2020)

8. Omeros by Derek Walcott (1990)

Poetry is, alas, not my strong suit, but I would be remiss not to include the work of Derek Walcott here. He was a recipient of a Nobel Prize in Literature back when the people who won it were more often people you’d likely heard of (sorry not sorry). Walcott’s work has been celebrated for decades, and Omeros is his most celebrated (and taught).

Omeros is an epic poem which operates as a kind of homage to Homer and The Iliad, yet written in such a way that the narrator (Walcott) and the characters seem to occupy the same space. There are no true heroes here; rather, it is a postmodernist exploration of Walcott’s world of Saint Lucia, Brooklyn, etc., bending time and challenging the place of modernity in Caribbean (or, more accurately, postcolonial) life. I’d liken this work to something T.S. Eliot might have imagined or loved, as it certainly comes out of that tradition of poetic form. If you’re a poetry buff, you need to read this. If you’re not, you still need to read this.

Alternative: I, Tituba: Black Witch of Salem by Maryse Condé (1986)

9. The Wretched of the Earth by Franz Fanon (1961)

Originally from Martinique, Frantz Fanon is probably one of the most significant anti-colonial figures of the 20th century. He was a physician and psychiatrist who support Algerian independence, wrote with unrelenting distaste about the French colonial government, and influenced radical political movements for decades to come. For this reason, it’s hard to pick a single Fanon book to include here… But if I have to pick, it has to be The Wretched of the Earth.

Perhaps his most widely discussed work, The Wretched of the Earth forwards Fanon’s psychological analysis of the impact of colonization — on individuals, on the nation, and on broader society. This is a particularly difficult work to summarize, but consider that Fanon explores the splitting of native identity into relations with the colonizer, the role of state and colonial violence in dehumanization, the importance of non-assimilation for decolonization. It’s a must-read work!

Alternative: Discourse on Colonialism by Aimé Césaire (1955)

10. Home to Harlem by Claude McKay (1928)

Festus Claudius McKay (what a name, y’all) is the only author on this list to have a direct tie to my favorite non-genre period of American literature: the Harlem Renaissance! In fact, McKay was one of that period’s most significant writers alongside other big names you probably already know. He wrote five novels and many works of poetry. Home to Harlem is his first!

Home to Harlem chronicles the lives of two young men as they try to make a life in the United States. It explores U.S. racism and prejudice, themes of unity and identity, and migration. McKay doesn’t pull punches here, and that makes for a book that is brutally honest about what it is like to be a black man in 1920s America (from the perspective of a man who himself moved from his homeland to these shores). It happens to be one of my favorites of the period, and I hope folks will read it!

Alternative: The Meaning of Consuelo by Judith Ortiz Cofer (2003)


There you go! A list of 10 (technically 20) Caribbean books you should read at least once. And because I desperately need to name more awesome writers, make sure to check out the work of Erna Brodber, Tiphanie Yanique, Merle Hodge, and Marlon James!

Now it’s your turn. What 10 would you pick?

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