#BookReview of “Crick Crack, Monkey” by Merle Hodge

“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘹 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 – 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥.” ― James Baldwin

What was the last book you read that reminded you of yourself?

When I was in high school, my parents paid for me to go on a class trip to Europe. On the trip, I had my first real taste of a world that was culturally different from my own. 

Cover of Crick Crack, Monkey by Merle Hodge

Upon my return home, I couldn’t stop talking about this trip, & I found some way to always tie the conversation back to what I had seen while I was away. Fed up, my father finally told me, that he hadn’t sent me there to come back & question he & my mother or the life they were providing for me. 

I was stunned. In my mind, I’d only been sharing my observations about the vastness of the world. But to my father, I had presented my observations in juxtaposition to the life he & my mother had provided me, & this was akin to blasphemy to my proud African-American parents. This experience mirrors Tee’s awakening in Crick Crack, Monkey by Merle Hodge.

Author, Merle Hodge

Published in 1970, Hodge’s novel is celebrated as a significant work in the Caribbean Literature canon. Set in Trinidad, Hodge’s story is a coming of age story of Tee, a young girl who is shuffled between two aunts’ houses. Tee’s Aunt Tantie and Aunt Beatrice represent the working & upwardly mobile classes of Trinidad & Tobago, respectively, & both vie for a chance to raise Tee & shape her views on the world.

While this novel is not “action-packed,” it made me think of how forcibly “whiteness” gets thrust upon Black, Indigenous, and other people of color. We as minorities often never question ourselves or our cultural traditions until we’re sent to be educated in White spaces or come in contact with a White person who strips us of our humanity.

Watching Tee’s views of places she loves unravel as she‘s forced to try to move closer to an ideal of wealth & whiteness that‘s ever present on her island helped me began to understand why my father rebuked me waxing poetic about Europe so long ago.