第1部分(第2/7 頁)

other　Negroes；　came　North　after　1919　and　I　was　part　of　that　generation　which　had　neverseen　the　landscape　of　what　Negroes　sometimes　called　the　Old　Country。

Baldwin　was　the　kind　of　writer　who　couldn’t　forget；　He　remembered　everything；　and　thepulse　of　remembering；　and　the　ache　of　old　news；　makes　for　the　beat　of　his　early　writing。　At　the　ageof　fourteen　he　underwent　what　he　called　later　‘a　prolonged　religious　crisis’；　a　confusion　too　deepfor　tears；　but　not　for　prose。　‘I　then　discovered　God；　His　saints　and　angels；　and　His　blazing　Hell；’　hewrote；　‘I　suppose　Him　to　exist　only　within　the　wall　of　a　church　–　in　fact；　of　our　church　–　and　I　alsosupposed　that　God　and　safety　were　synonymous。’　At　this　point　Baldwin　became　a　preacher　too。　Heknew　that　something　important　happened　when　he　stood　up　and　entered　deeply　into　the　languageof　a　sermon。　People　listened；　they　clapped。　‘Amen；　Amen；’　they　said。　And　all　of　it　remained　withhim：　the　smell　of　church　wood　and　the　crying　out；　the　shimmer　of　tambourines；　the　heat　ofdamnation；　the　songs　of　the　Saved；　his　father’s　face；　and　the　New　York　world　outside　with　itswhite　people　downtown　who’d　say　‘Why　don’t　you　niggers　stay　uptown　where　you　belong？’　Butmore　than　anything　it　was　his　father’s　face。　‘In　my　mind’s　eye；’　hw　writes　in　Notes；　‘I　could　seehim；　sitting　at　the　window；　locked　up　in　his　terrors；　hating　and　fearing　every　living　soul　includinghis　children　who　had　betrayed　him；　too；　by　reaching　toward　the　world　which　had　despised　him。’

Some　novelists；　in　their　early　work　especially；　set　out　to　defeat　the　forts　of　invention：

they　refuse　to　make　anything　up。　Go　Tell　It　on　the　Mountain　is　James　Baldwin’s　first　novel；　ashadow…album　of　lived　experience；　the　lines　here　being　no　less　real　than　those　on　his　mother’sface。　For　Baldwin；