Amiable with big teeth A novel of the love affair between the communists and the poor black sheep of Harlem

The youngest of 11 children in a Jamaican farming family, McKay (1889-1948) was a published poet as a teenager. After he made his way to New York, he became part of the Harlem Renaissance, even as he wrote his first three novels in France (Home to Harlem, 1928), Spain and Morocco (Banjo, 1929), and Tangier (Banana Bottom, 1933). Back in New York, he eked out a living working for the Federal Writers' Project, along with Dorothy West, Richard Wright, and Ralph Ellison, while writing articles and nonfiction books, including Harlem: Negro Metropolis (1940), the last title published before his death. In 2009, Jean-Christophe Cloutier, a doctoral candidate and intern at Columbia University's Rare Book and Manuscript Library, came across a 300-page manuscript that he and his dissertation adviser Brent Hayes Edwards eventually authenticated as a heretofore unknown work by McKay: Amiable with Big Teeth: A Novel of the Love Affair between the Communists and the Poor Black Sheep of Harlem. The two scholars report their findings in their fascinating introduction to the first edition of McKay's rescued fourth novel, reporting that McKay was so determined to complete the book quickly that he left the distractions of New York City for a farmhouse in Maine as soon as he received an advance from his publisher, E. P. Dutton. But when he submitted the manuscript in July 1941, Dutton declined to publish it, and, with that, the paper trail came to an end, leaving unsolved the mystery of what happened to the manuscript during the difficult last years of McKay's life, as he struggled with financial woes and illness. The novel's remarkable discovery and prominent publication is a propitious event of tremendous historical and literary significance. McKay's zealous political satire begins on a Sunday afternoon in 1934 as people fill Seventh Avenue in Harlem, galvanized to action by Mussolini's invasion of Ethiopia. The elite has created competing charitable organizations to raise funds for the besieged, poorly armed African nation, including Hands to Ethiopia, the brain child of Pablo Peixota, who made his fortune in the notorious numbers game. He is proud to be hosting a young Ethiopian prince and envoy, Lij Tekla Alamaya, who catches the eager eye of Pablo's mischievous stepdaughter, Seraphine. But the church event Pablo has orchestrated is hijacked by the flamboyant Professor Koazhy, the controversial leader of a secretive group known as the Senegambians. Worse yet are Pablo's troubles with the White Friends of Ethiopia and the enigmatic, coldly manipulative Maxim Tasan, a rabid recruiter for the Communist party, which has its own warring factions.McKay devotes a nearly stultifying number of pages to the battle between the Trotskyites and Stalinists, a hot issue then even as fascism and Nazism gathered strength overseas. Though McKay introduces intriguing characters and brings readers into enticing situations dinner parties, clandestine meetings, and nightclub parties and confrontations, the dialogue descends into tedious diatribes. Still, this overly talky, often stilted mix of political critique and low-flame potboiler is smart, daring, and brimming with arresting insights. Such as Alamaya's outsider perspective on American racism, and Seraphine's wish: I want to feel free to live my life like any American girl. McKay choreographs hoaxes, betrayals, showdowns, and a highly questionable sexual encounter while tackling thorny questions about African Americans' sense of identity and heritage, interracial alliances and marriages, social class, and the impact on Harlem by global politics. The novel's provocative subtitle is alluded to in a thunderous sermon by the Reverend Zebulon Trawl, in which he beseeches God: show me the way to defeat the machinations of the strong white ones against thy poor black sheep. Many readers will relate to Pablo's response to the political turmoil dividing his community and the world at-large: he reasoned that the times were fantastic in a way that was beyond his imagination. Principles had become meaningless. Why was Amiable with Big Teeth rejected? Perhaps Dutton didn't want to invest in its much-needed revision, or McKay wasn't willing or able to do the necessary rewrites. Dutton may also have passed on it because of the escalating war in Europe. McKay's vehement criticism of Stalin and his supporters would not have played well as the U.S. looked to the Soviet Union as an ally against Germany. Whatever the reason, now that the novel is finally, even miraculously, available, McKay will be more widely recognized as, to quote Cloutier and Edwards, one of the most important literary and political writers of the interwar period. --Seaman, Donna Copyright 2017 Booklist

Unpublished in the author's lifetime, this recently unearthed work by Harlem Renaissance writer McKay (1889-1948) is both a brilliant social novel and a historical document shedding light on two oft-overlooked episodes from the history of America's African-American community: the campaign to aid Ethiopia after the invasion by Fascist Italy, and the debate among the black intelligentsia over Communism. It is the 1930s and Harlem is abuzz with festivity as the Hands to Ethiopia committee receives an envoy, Lij Tekla Alamaya. But controversy soon engulfs the neighborhood, as Soviet agent Maxim Tasan infiltrates the cause and plans to turn its various constituents against one another. These include the eccentric and flamboyant Professor Koazhy; the committee's leftist secretary, Newton Castle; and the committee's chairman, Pablo Peixota, who winds up between a rock and a hard place once his daughter, Seraphine, falls in love with Alamaya. But is Alamaya an impostor? And will the committee's good intentions fall victim to anti-Communist hysteria? As witch hunts mount, questions of black identity come to drive this fiercely political novel, which doesn't shy away from examining the hypocrisy of Harlem's moral leaders, nor from frank discussion of assimilation and the quandary of the socialist reformer in the era of Stalin. The novel suffers from some repetition-probably reflecting that McKay was unable to revise it-but remains a complex, extraordinarily even-handed portrait of American blackness in a time of war. (Feb.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

1. ". . . Ethiopia Shall Soon Stretch Out Her Hands to God." -Psalms 68:31 From 110th to 140th Street, Seventh Avenue on this pleasant Sunday afternoon was a grandly tumultuous parade ground. The animated crowds pushed over the jammed sidewalks into the street. Every stoop was pre-empted by eager groups of youngsters struggling to hold their places and warding off newcomers. Above, the tri-color green-yellow-red of Ethiopia blazoned from many windows. Streamers were thrown at the marchers and confetti fluttered in the air like colored moths. With bands and banners and pompous feet the procession undulated along the avenue. There were Elks and Masons and other fraternal orders, political and religious organizations, social clubs and study clubs-the Ethiopian Students Class, the African Historical Society, the Senegambian Scouts, Ladies' Auxiliaries, children's groups. At intervals resounding claps rewarded some section which attracted special attention by a piece of meretricious music or movement. Near the corner where the procession went down a side street to the church, a huge banner floated over the avenue, bearing the motto: welcome to the prince of ethiopia: envoy of his imperial majesty. As the tail of the march trailed by, the official cars followed at a slow pace. There were three of them, each carrying the Ethiopian flag and the Stars and Stripes. In the first two cars there were the notables of Harlem; in the third the Ethiopian envoy, a slight olive-colored youth with large calf's eyes. The people applauded, clapping, whistling and shouting "God Save Ethiopia!" But as the cars rolled down to the church, from far down the avenue came the echo of a mighty roar. The noise became tumultuous as it surged up the street. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Rey! Rey! Rey!" It was borne along by a bigger crowd escorting an open automobile in which stood a full-sized ebon-hued man, bedecked in a uniform so rare, so gorgeous, it made the people prance and shout with joy. "R-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-y!" The shouting rose to its highest point like the furious sounding of a thousand bagpipes, like a paddock full of horses wildly neighing, like the exuberant flourish of a parade of kettledrums. The lone personage wore a mailed shirt extravagantly covered with golden gleaming arabesques and a wonderfully high shako, white and surmounted by a variegated cluster of ostrich plumes. With his right hand held at salute he smiled triumphantly, almost roguishly. Responding to the thunderous salvos of acclaim, the throng that could not be accommodated in the huge church surged up from the side street to meet the new multitude of the avenue. Thrilled by the tumultuous spectacle, suddenly the saluting dignitary unsheathed his sword and brandished it at heaven. The mass roared in a frenzy while slowly the car threaded through, turning down the side street to the church. The people wondered. Who was the richly bedecked apparition? The ignorant said it was the prince envoy. But others more informed said the envoy had already passed and entered the church with the notables. It was the military aide of the envoy, someone suggested, and the gossip rustled like a wind-blown leaf from mouth to mouth. Inside the immense church the vast audience was startled by the tremendous uproar. The choir had sung the Ethiopian anthem, and stirred by the tumult, which penetrated and filled the church, the audience was restless. Up on the platform sat the dignitaries with the young envoy in the midst of them. They were whispering to one another about the cause of the heightened prolonged cheering, when suddenly they were amazed by the dramatic entrance of the man in uniform. The audience turned and saw him like a medieval knight framed in the portal and it rose with one accord and cheered. The envoy in formal clothes distinguished only by a red slash aslant his breast had not elicited anything approaching this warm welcome extended to the military personage. The chairman of the meeting thought at once that the uninvited notable could not be left unnoticed there among the audience. Besides, he stood there smiling, saluting as if waiting for official recognition. So after hurriedly whispering with a colleague, the chairman dispatched the chief usher to bring the soldier to the platform. Applause pursued him as he marched elegantly, deliberately down the aisle and ascended the platform. There he saluted and bowed to the audience, shook hands with the chairman and took the introduction to the envoy with a deferential bow. "Professor Koazhy!" The envoy repeated the name in a low tone, his wide eyes in wonder surveying the uniform. So he was not really a military man, but had thus adorned himself in honor of the occasion, the envoy thought. But he had pleased the crowds, and had been rewarded with an ovation greater than was given to him, the official representative of Ethiopia. Perhaps he too should have worn a uniform, as Pablo Peixota, the chairman, had suggested. But he did not like uniforms and rarely wore one, unless he was attending a state function, and nothing he might have worn could compare with the resplendent splendor of Professor Koazhy's accoutrement. But why did Professor Koazhy choose to wear this barbaric fantastic costume, which was not symbolic of the new spirit of Ethiopia? And how puzzling that that uniform had made such a powerful appeal to the senses of the crowd. For these people were not anything like the tribal Ethiopians, the envoy thought; they were more like European crowds. From the quaint and fanciful accounts he had read, from things he had heard, he had imagined a very different kind of people. These Aframericans- Meanwhile, Chairman Pablo Peixota was calling the great meeting to order. He spoke through a megaphone. Briefly he said that the purpose of the meeting was firstly to give aid to Ethiopia and secondly to welcome the representative of the Emperor. He said Ethiopia was a Holy Land to all Aframericans, that afternoon's glorious demonstration was a proof of their interest. Ethiopia was the ancient lamp of Africa, which should not be extinguished. The Aframerican people had pledged themselves to help keep that lamp burning. They were collecting the funds and sending medical aid. The Emperor of Ethiopia had condescended to send a representative as a token of his goodwill and to give encouragement and inspiration to the efforts of the Aframericans. "Let us show to him the things that we can do and will do. Let us begin in a big way this afternoon." The chairman spoke efficiently but not brilliantly. He was precise, as if he were reading from a manuscript. Next he called upon the minister of the church, the Reverend Zebulon Trawl, to say a prayer for Ethiopia. The minister was of about the same complexion as the envoy, but more heavily built. He prayed rhythmically for Ethiopia, the Emperor and his family, his advisers, his generals and the armies, the confounding of their enemies, the restoration of peace to the land. And lastly he prayed for Aframericans, dropping down to a colloquial and dithyrambic note: "Get busy and do your stuff, brothers and sisters. Begin today, start right now, put your hands in your pockets and not for nothing, bring it up, bring it out, get under your pillow, open the jars in your cupboards, open up the old family Bible where you have some bills pressed down like faded flowers, pennies and nickels and dimes, bring them in for the defense of Ethiopia. The Emperor has honored us here in America, sending to us his personal personable representative." He turned to the envoy. "Never before have our people been honored in such a grand manner. Let us show ourselves worthy of that honor. Mohammed he went to the mountain, and Ethiopia has come to us, to you and to me, to each one of us. Oh, my brothers and sisters, Ethiopia shall stretch forth her hands to God." Many voices responded: "God, God! Amen, Amen!" The chairman said he would ask each speaker to be brief, as the long parade had delayed the beginning of the meeting. There were seven speakers besides the envoy: another outstanding preacher, a prominent doctor, a high official of a popular fraternal order, a leader of the Back-to-Africa movement, a university professor, a woman representing the Colored Women's Clubs and a representative of the White Friends of Ethiopia. At last the young envoy, Lij Tekla Alamaya, was announced. He stepped nimbly forward, bowing to the chairman and the other speakers, and was greeted with prolonged cheering. He thanked the people for the warm welcome they had extended to him, as a representative of the Emperor and the people of Ethiopia. He stressed the gratitude of the Ethiopians for Aframerican sympathy and help. He told of the valor of the armies in the field, but that they were fighting a modern war without modern arms. They needed artillery and machine guns, warplanes and armored trucks, uniforms and shoes, medical supplies and doctors and nurses. He described Ethiopia as a land-locked nation unable to communicate with the outside world, except across the territory of hostile or inhospitable nations. But nevertheless the people were courageous and brave as ever, jealous of their great traditions and guarding their ancient faith, the same Christian faith of Aframericans, which had inspired them to rise up and demonstrate to defend Ethiopia as they had today. "I am nothing but the humble servant of my Emperor who has sent me to you in the name of his people. I have come to give you all the information you require about Ethiopia, the Emperor and the Imperial Family and the Imperial Army. Things that are strange and incomprehensible to you, I shall endeavor to make clear. We thank you from our hearts for all the help that you have extended to us. Oh, we need all the help that you have pledged and much more, for the enemy is strong and cunning. My Emperor sent me to you as his humble servant and now I am also your humble servant." Lij Alamaya won a fine ovation. The sympathy of the audience was touched by his slight appealing figure and his rather quaint English which sounded as if he had learned most of it in school in a foreign country. But as the applause died down there were shouts of "Professor Koazhy! Professor Koazhy!" "Let's hear Professor Koazhy." The entire audience voiced the demand and waited expectantly. The chairman could not do less than present the gentleman in his uniformed splendor. And the roar of applause that exploded when he stood up was visibly disconcerting to the notables on the platform. It was greater than they all had received, including the envoy, and it was not funny. Proudly stepping forward amidst the wild plaudits of the audience, and posing erectly-elated to be so signally honored, although he had not been one of the notables invited to participate-he was a perfect picture of triumph. Who else could have conceived and executed his inimitable performance? Professor Koazhy clicked his heels, saluted, paid his respect to Lij Alamaya and the chairman and spoke in a deep kind of preacher's voice. "Some of you here know who I am," he declared, "but I know that the majority are applauding this uniform. That is as it should be. For I did not wear this uniform for merely a gaudy show. I put it on for a purpose-a special purpose. This is the uniform of an Ethiopian warrior. I went through all the trouble and expense of procuring it so that you should have a dramatic idea of why you are gathered here. In this uniform I want you not to see me, but the great warriors of Ethiopia. A long line of them who have fought and died so that their nation should live. "Oh, my friends, this is a grand event. And it is a wonderful opportunity for me. Here in your midst in flesh and blood you have an Ethiopian-a Prince of Africa. I pray you, I implore you to realize the significance of it. I have given many years to the study and teaching of African history. The newspapers and the professors mocked me. Yet I am a college man and as good a professor as any of them. It was because I didn't study and teach African history the way they do it in the classrooms. I gave it to those who were hungry for it, the people who came and sat right down at my feet to get it. They said I was funny in the head, that I had an obsession, because I said that African history was as noble and great as European history. To them African history was just an unimportant chip off of European history. "But I tell you, my friends, excited and exalted now about Ethiopia, if you knew African history, you would be better equipped to help Ethiopia. How many of you know anything about the real Ethiopia? I tell you, you are ignorant and not only you but the world is ignorant. I have just heard these learned speakers inform you that the kings of Ethiopia are descended from Solomon. I am sorry to correct them, but that is not true, my friends. The dynasty of Ethiopia is older than Solomon; it is older than the Bible. "I must humbly apologise to our envoy and prince, but even the Ethiopians themselves today do not know their great history. They imagine that their Emperor is the Lion of Judah because he was descended from the Queen of Sheba. But that is history turned upside down. The Emperor of Ethiopia is the Lion of Judah because many centuries ago the Empire of Ethiopia extended to Egypt across Judea into Persia and India. You must know the truth and Professor Koazhy is here to teach you. "You complain and whine about the white man's attitude towards you. I will forgive the white man for all the wrong he has done the black. I will forgive him because the white man has done one good and great thing. The white man has given the black man knowledge, and that is the greatest gift that one man can give another. Take that knowledge and learn from it. Learn about the past as it relates to you and use it to do something about the present. What you should know about yourself is the white man's gift to you. They wrote the truth but they cannot open your blind eyes to see it or make your minds understand. Herodotus, Volney, Champollion, Moret, Budge, Littmann, Frobenius, and a hundred more. "What you all should know is also what the Ethiopians should know about themselves. Then they will fight better and you will help more." Professor Koazhy unsheathed the sword and held it up and said: "A sword in the hands of an ignorant man is a dangerous weapon that may destroy him. Knowledge is available. Get it. Learn, learn, and learn more." Excerpted from Amiable with Big Teeth by Claude McKay All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.