"Musical Youth" by Joanne C. Hillhouse
It’s been more than a year since I posted the original version of my review of “Musical Youth” by Joanne C. Hillhouse. It still gives me all these feels when I think about this novel. I keep recommending it every time I get the chance to… Seriously, if you follow me on Instagram, you know how much I keep hyping it up. This year, the BocasLitFest invited people to share the 100 Caribbean books that changed their lives. I’m not sure I can actually name 100 Caribbean books, but I know for a fact that “Musical Youth” really changed my life in so many ways that I’ll probably blog about one day. Today I’m presenting you my review. I still agree with what I wrote a year ago, so there was no need for me to update it.
“Musical Youth” takes place on a summer. During this summer, Zahara and Shaka get to do a musical, they get to figure out who they are and to think about who they want to become as they’re heading toward adulthood. Whenever I think about how I could sum up “Musical Youth”, the first words that come to mind are always “it’s an authentic Caribbean story”.
Authentic like the diverse family model
One day, it will be normalized to represent a Caribbean family with a father being present to raise his children and to fully take on his responsibilities as a father. One day, maybe. Meanwhile, it is okay to give nuances to the negative image of Caribbean fatherhood. This is exactly what Joanne C. Hillhouse does as the reasons for Shaka’s and Zahara’s fathers to be absent are part of the plot and are clearly explained. By the time the novel ends, there’s nothing left unsaid, Zahara and Shaka can move on because they know every thing there to figure out how they’ll keep growing up without their fathers… Zahara can count on her grandmother. Shaka can count on his mother and his grandfather. The meaning of family in the Caribbean is extended to other definitions than just “mom, dad and siblings”.
Authentic like their daily lives
The story takes place in Antigua. The characters speak in patois. No need for pages and pages to describe the particularity and the beauty of Caribbean food, Caribbean landscapes, Caribbean architecture and Caribbean music. To me, “Musical Youth” is most importantly about representing the resilience and the hope for a bright future linked to the Caribbean way of life.
On one hand, Zahara comes from the lower middle class and attends a private Catholic school. On the other hand, Shaka comes from the working class and attends a public school. Their daily lives are just about going to class, doing school activities and home. There’s nothing flashy about their environment. Their happiness and well-being never depend on material things.
No expensive car, no fashion look, no party with lots of alcohol while parents are away, no drug… Zahara, Shaka and their circle of friends aren’t about the usual quest for extreme experiences like it was usually shown in mainstream media of the 2010’s. They’re looking for another kind of thrill. The thrill they get by living out their passion for music and loving the people who care about them.
They scarcely use their cell phone which made them even more relatable to me as I was a teenager in the early 2000’s. However, some cultural references such as soca diva Claudette Peters, Skype or Youtube prove that this story and the Caribbean described are definitely from the 2010’s. One of the elements that also makes the story such contemporary is the discussion around colorism.
Authentic like the pain inflicted by colorism
From the first pages, we get to witness the mental havoc that colorism creates. Colorism feeds on the perception we have of ourselves. It feeds on our perception of other people and on the perception other people have of us. Joanne Hillhouse is subtle in the way she approaches this theme with several points of view by highlighting different elements about the character involved.
Before Shaka got the nickname Shaka, he had the nickname Zulu. The nickname was thrown at him as an insult because of his dark skin, but by accepting the name, the character reclaims the nobility of the word once his grandfather tells him the story of the Zulu. This scene is very important to me because it highlights the awareness of the Africanness of our Caribbean identity. Shaka knows where he comes from and he gets inspired by the ancestors strength to assert himself. This scene is also important because we get to see the care an adult shows to boost a young boy’s self esteem. I feel like Black men are rarely seen as victims of colorim. Shaka isn’t considered handsome. He does say so himself. “I’m black but I’m cute” he says as a joke to Zahara who is starting to understand how society perceives dark-skinned Shaka. His mother and his grandfather made sure that he loved himself to help him deal with painful situations when he’s confronted to colorism.
Zahara is light-skinned enough to be in the “attractive Black girls” category by default. Still, she lacks confidence and she doesn’t think of herself as beautiful. Once again, Joanne Hillhouse gives the character the opportunity to figure out where it stands in the spectrum of colorism to step away from it. Zahara’s naivety at the beginning of the story is the literal example of light-skinned privilege. She is intentional about understanding how colorism works, she gathers empiric proof that she carefully analyzes. Zahara and Shaka even have a brief yet honest discussion about it. I read the scene over and over again because it was so moving. She wonders if he loves her only because she’s light-skinned. He wonders if she doesn’t like him back because he’s dark-skinned… Once they verbalized their worries, they take time to think about how they feel. The balance in their relationship is based on the mutual help they give each other to become the best version of themselves they can be. Zahara finds confidence in herself and in her music. The apparent confidence Shaka showed at the beginning becomes real as he defines his identity as an artist. There’s nothing they can do about colorism, but they hold themselves accountable for their own prejudices before trying to let go of them. They knowingly choose each other.
A soon-to-be classic?
The romance between Zahara and Shaka keeps the plot moving forward, but them getting together isn’t the ultimate goal of the story. As a huge romance fan, it was so satisfying to read about a relationship growing very organically. However, what I truly enjoyed with this novel was the representation of the social and generational dynamics of the Antiguan society… as brutal as these dynamics may be sometimes.
What moved me was the cultural pride, the representation of Caribbean society’s issues without being judgmental.
What resonated with me was the discourse on what being Black is, on what being a young Caribbean girl/boy is in the 21st century.
No French translation is available for now. Trust and believe that I’ll keep hoping and praying that this novel gets translated because I want it to become a Caribbean classic for the upcoming generations. And why not even get a film and/or TV adaptation to turn it into a time capsule and immortalize our era?
The original French version of this review can be found here.