Barbara Harlow's "Resistance Literature" (Book Note)

 

Barbara Harlow undertakes a compelling exploration in her book "Resistance Literature" to evaluate the significance of the emerging 'resistance literature.' In this ambitious work, she gathers the voices of poets and writers engaged in organized national liberation struggles across Africa, Latin America, and the Middle East. Harlow contends that literature, akin to armed resistance, plays a crucial role in reclaiming cultural history from the clutches of colonialism and imperialism. The authors of this burgeoning resistance literature, in their pursuit of sowing the seeds for a new social order, are, at each turn, crafting a fresh aesthetic that disrupts the very categories that traditionally define Western literature. A novel language is evolving, not only in response to external forces like invaders and aggressors and the regressive impacts of colonialism but also in addressing its own historical context.

In her modest preface, Barbara Harlow acknowledges that this work is a 'preliminary and explorative study.' Undoubtedly, the expansive task of examining the literature of numerous authors and countries is formidable. Nevertheless, she achieves her goal of bringing attention to literature that has been largely overlooked in the Western sphere.

The initial chapter of the book delves into the theoretical and historical backdrop against which this new literature is taking shape. The term 'resistance literature,' originally coined by Ghassan Kanafani in 1966 in his work "Literature of Resistance in Occupied Palestine: 1948-1966," frames the discussion. The subsequent four chapters are organized around specific genres: poetry, narrative, prison memoirs, and literature related to post-independence development.

 

The first chapter, particularly enthralling, focuses on the resistance poetry of figures such as Nicolás Guillén (Cuba), Ernesto Cardenal (Nicaragua), Balach Khan (Baluchistan), Jorge Rebelo (Mozambique), Pablo Neruda (Chile), ANC Kumalo and Dennis Brutus (South Africa), Antonio Jacinto (Angola), and Mahmud Darwish (Palestine). Harlow supports her argument that poetry stands as the "most powerful force for political mobilization" by drawing on the perspectives of critics and writers from the Third World. She emphasizes the diverse roles poets assume as historians, educators, and standard bearers of the struggle. Poetry, in this context, becomes a repository for popular memory and consciousness, with many of these poems imbued with imagery from the armed struggle. Harlow asserts that poetry need not shy away from being a call to revolutionary action.

 

In Chapters three and five, Harlow meticulously examines the 'narratives of resistance,' emphasizing that these narratives are distinct from the Western twentieth-century novel tradition that seemingly suspends individuals in time and space. She focuses on the literature dealing with historical specificity and delves into what she terms the literature of 'utopian vision and dystopian reality.' Within this context, authors such as Achebe (Nigeria), Thiong'o (Kenya), and Armah (Ghana) grapple with the realization of utopian goals and visions, exploring the aftermath of unfulfilled aspirations within the national liberation movements. However, it is notable that these chapters lack the clarity observed in those dedicated to poetry and prison memoirs, possibly due to the extensive volume of material, necessitating detailed historical contextualization for each country's narrative. This complexity requires Harlow to navigate through specific historical circumstances while extracting the broader significance of each narrative and its theoretical implications for resistance literature.

 

In the conclusive chapter titled "Commitment to the Future: Utopia, Dystopia, and Post-Independence Developments," the previously established generic divisions undergo dissolution, giving way to an exploration of literary texts endeavoring to envision potential futures marked by a radical transformation of familiar literary and political categories. Notably, narrative takes precedence in this discussion, eclipsing poetry, and leaving theater unexplored (an omission worth noting), along with various forms of popular, non-literary resistance culture. This discreet favoring of narrative over other literary forms carries implicit implications for both resistance literature and the field of critical studies, opening avenues for further exploration, particularly concerning the politics of genre.

 

"Resistance Literature" transcends mere literary analysis; it serves as a concise guide to the pressing political and cultural dialogues occurring within liberation movements. Barbara Harlow adeptly navigates through recent social and political developments in Lebanon, South Africa, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Kenya, Egypt, and Nigeria, providing readers with a succinct understanding. She portrays texts and culture as battlegrounds intricately connected to specific liberation movements and the collective endeavors of people to assert control over their lives.

 

Harlow goes beyond the apparent assertion that the literature of liberation movements is inherently political. "Resistance Literature" concurrently asserts the unavoidably political nature of critical commentary on such literature. In doing so, it challenges Western or First World critical practices to reevaluate their own political stances and the definitions governing their literary criticism. Consequently, "Resistance Literature" becomes a form of resistance itself.