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Quando papà dava i numeri
La scuola sta per finire, ma non sarà un’estate facile per la dodicenne Francie. Suo padre è disoccupato e per sbarcare il lunario raccoglie le giocate dei «numeri», la grande lotteria clandestina le cui estrazioni quotidiane sembrano scandire la vita degli abitanti di Harlem. E mentre tutti intorno a lei si arrabattano per sopravvivere, tra (rare) vincite e (molti) debiti, Francie affronta l’inizio dell’adolescenza, un’età in cui può ancora sognare a occhi aperti il suo attore di Hollywood preferito, e al tempo stesso sa di dover essere abbastanza sveglia per non fare la fine della Cinesina, la sorella della sua migliore amica, costretta dal violento Alfred a prostituirsi. O la fine di Sterling, il suo fratello maggiore, pericolosamente avviato sulla strada della piccola criminalità con la gang del quartiere.
Quando papà dava i numeri, l’esordio letterario di Louise Meriwether oggi considerato un classico moderno, è un ritratto vivissimo della Harlem del passato, un omaggio allo spirito di solidarietà e all’orgoglio di un popolo, ma anche un’emozionante storia di crescita personale, disperata e comica, raccontata dalla voce briosa e disincantata della giovane protagonista.
Quando papà dava i numeri, l’esordio letterario di Louise Meriwether oggi considerato un classico moderno, è un ritratto vivissimo della Harlem del passato, un omaggio allo spirito di solidarietà e all’orgoglio di un popolo, ma anche un’emozionante storia di crescita personale, disperata e comica, raccontata dalla voce briosa e disincantata della giovane protagonista.
211 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1970
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3679 people want to read
About the author
Louise Meriwether
10 books58 followersLouise Meriwether was an American novelist, essayist, journalist and activist, as well as a writer of biographies of historically important African Americans for children.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 174 reviews
March 30, 2013
This book, when I read it as a child sometime in the early 70's, changed my life. I didn't know, before then, that there was such a thing as a novel with a little black girl as a protagonist. I decided right then and there: I wanted to be a writer, tell my own little-girl story.
December 19, 2019
This is Meriwether’s first novel and chronicles the lives of a poor black family in Harlem during the Depression in the 1930s. It is written from the point of view of Francie Coffin, the twelve year old daughter of the family. Although it is a novel there are elements of autobiography and the virago edition has an introduction by James Baldwin.
Meriwether is still active and has received an award for social activism in 2011, this is a flavour of her speech;
“I am a writer, and also a dedicated activist and peacenik. In New York City in my twenties I was chapter chairman of my union, marching in May Day Parades and having rotten eggs thrown at my head. In Los Angeles I was arrested in a sit-in against the racist Birch Society and sentenced to five years’ probation. In Bogalusa Louisiana I worked with the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE); back in New York I was instrumental in keeping Muhammad Ali, then world's heavyweight champion, from fighting in South Africa and breaking a cultural boycott. In Washington, D.C., I was arrested in 2002 in a protest against the disastrous policies of the World Bank and the IMF. Back in New York I was active in several forums breaking the silence about the rampant rape in the Congo and the multinational corporations and countries involved. Last year I helped set up a forum at Riverside Church on the Abolition of Nuclear Weapons.”
It takes place over the period of about a year, 1934-1935, it is located in a particular time as the Joe Louis/Max Baer fight takes place during the novel. Francine is a very engaging narrator, which is just as well because the story is one of an unremitting struggle against poverty and injustice. Francie has the usual twelve year old concerns about family, friends and school. But there is the backdrop of little work, occasional riots and the humiliation of welfare. There are also the numbers, an illegal type of lottery and Francine’s father is a small cog in this, being a number runner. Francine also has to cope with routine sexual harassment from assorted adults; shopkeepers, men in the cinema and others. There is little choice for any of those growing up; for the boys it’s either gangs or poorly paid menial work if there was any work, for the girls prostitution, marriage and babies or laundry/cleaning work.
It is a powerful and brilliant evocation of a time and place; portraying the ups and downs of everyday life; the characterization is also very good. Baldwin sums it up well:
“Shit, says Francine, sitting on the stoop as the book ends, looking outward at the land of the free, and trying, with one thin bony black hand to stem the blood which is beginning to rush from a nearly mortal wound. That monosyllable resounds all over this country, all over the world: it is a judgement on this civilization rendered the more implacable by being delivered by a child. The mortal wound is not physical, the book, so far from being a melodrama, is very brilliantly understated. The wound is the wound made upon the recognition that one is regarded as a worthless human being.”
Well worth reading.
Meriwether is still active and has received an award for social activism in 2011, this is a flavour of her speech;
“I am a writer, and also a dedicated activist and peacenik. In New York City in my twenties I was chapter chairman of my union, marching in May Day Parades and having rotten eggs thrown at my head. In Los Angeles I was arrested in a sit-in against the racist Birch Society and sentenced to five years’ probation. In Bogalusa Louisiana I worked with the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE); back in New York I was instrumental in keeping Muhammad Ali, then world's heavyweight champion, from fighting in South Africa and breaking a cultural boycott. In Washington, D.C., I was arrested in 2002 in a protest against the disastrous policies of the World Bank and the IMF. Back in New York I was active in several forums breaking the silence about the rampant rape in the Congo and the multinational corporations and countries involved. Last year I helped set up a forum at Riverside Church on the Abolition of Nuclear Weapons.”
It takes place over the period of about a year, 1934-1935, it is located in a particular time as the Joe Louis/Max Baer fight takes place during the novel. Francine is a very engaging narrator, which is just as well because the story is one of an unremitting struggle against poverty and injustice. Francie has the usual twelve year old concerns about family, friends and school. But there is the backdrop of little work, occasional riots and the humiliation of welfare. There are also the numbers, an illegal type of lottery and Francine’s father is a small cog in this, being a number runner. Francine also has to cope with routine sexual harassment from assorted adults; shopkeepers, men in the cinema and others. There is little choice for any of those growing up; for the boys it’s either gangs or poorly paid menial work if there was any work, for the girls prostitution, marriage and babies or laundry/cleaning work.
It is a powerful and brilliant evocation of a time and place; portraying the ups and downs of everyday life; the characterization is also very good. Baldwin sums it up well:
“Shit, says Francine, sitting on the stoop as the book ends, looking outward at the land of the free, and trying, with one thin bony black hand to stem the blood which is beginning to rush from a nearly mortal wound. That monosyllable resounds all over this country, all over the world: it is a judgement on this civilization rendered the more implacable by being delivered by a child. The mortal wound is not physical, the book, so far from being a melodrama, is very brilliantly understated. The wound is the wound made upon the recognition that one is regarded as a worthless human being.”
Well worth reading.
March 3, 2021
Update: 2/10/2020
I read this classic novel in 2019 and loved it.
So much so that I think I want to reread it in 2020.
Probably make it an end of the year favorite all over again.
I read this classic novel in 2019 and loved it.
So much so that I think I want to reread it in 2020.
Probably make it an end of the year favorite all over again.
June 16, 2025
Louise Meriwether hurls us into Harlem’s 1930s through the sharp corners of ordinary despair and defiance. Francie Coffin, eleven and already an expert at dodging fists, hunger, and male hands, records the mess of Black girlhood like a scribe taking notes from inside the belly of the beast.
“Shit,” she concludes from the stoop in the book’s final lines. It’s a child’s declaration, but also a national indictment. Earlier, her mother tells her: “Francie, you can beat anything, anybody, if you face up to it and if you’re not scared.”
But Francie learns fast that Harlem’s streets reward stoicism with bruises, and clarity with sorrow. Boys are mugged into masculinity, girls are molested into womanhood, and everyone bets on dreams, literally.
Francie’s father runs numbers, trading hope in pocket change. “Any day you hit the number is Christmas,” she says, but the real odds always favor the butcher, the landlord, and the perverts hiding behind Sunday suits.
The novel staggers beautifully through scenes like Francie being offered a dime by a bald white man on the rooftop to “touch this,” or Sukie, Francie’s peach-skinned nemesis-bestie, punching her teeth loose over some casually flung comment about China Doll, the sister turned prostitute who gets dragged off the street by her pimp.
A nickel will get you a peek, a squeeze earns you two soup bones, and if you’re lucky - or unlucky - you can catch a rooftop flasher offering dimes for a touch of his “ugly, purple and wet-looking” thing.
Sexual abuse is as ordinary as corner-store candy, and just as cheap. The butcher, Mr. Morristein, feels up Francie while weighing ground meat, murmuring about how “big you’re getting,” his fingers slipping like sausages down her thigh. Max the Baker hands out rolls with a side of gropes. Francie and Sukie treat it like small talk. Sukie even brags about the old men in Mt. Morris Park, one of whom pays them to pull down their bloomers so he can drool like a drunk puppy. Sukie lays down the rules: no touching. The men ignore them. “Just let me look,” they beg, panting into the grass. It’s the sort of trauma that comes so often, and so early, it stops shocking and starts sounding like routine, roaches on the kitchen floor, or rats in the hallway. The girls are too wise to be innocent, too young to be safe.
In one of the book’s most withering ironies, Francie’s brother James Junior joins the Ebony Earls because “It don’t make no difference whether you’re bad or not, just as long as people think you are.” Sterling, the other brother, experiments with shoeshines and chemicals, dodging delinquency with a tight frown and scorn for feelings.
Francie’s parents oscillate between dysfunction and affection—her mother, brittle and practical; her father, magnetic and unreliable, a “giant of a man” who glows while playing piano at rent parties, then spends his pay on chitlins and gin.
When the ceiling leaks or the rats return, the family staples cardboard to the floor and prays. And yet, the most terrifying moment might be when Francie casually inserts a jumper wire into the fuse box to steal electricity, her small hand braced against death like it’s part of her chores.
Meriwether’s sentences walk the tightrope between humor and humiliation with unnerving ease. “You had to laugh with Mrs. Mackey,” Francie tells us, “she was that jolly and fat.” Later, she observes the furniture as “a gift from the Jewish plumber downstairs, and one year older than God.”
The prose carries a dangerous innocence, a language that skips until it stumbles on another grimy truth.
Francie will grow up, but into what? The perverts aren’t disappearing. The roof man hasn’t been arrested. The war council of the Ebony Earls still holds meetings. In the book’s final sigh, nothing changes - except Francie, who now sees through the American success story like a fish dream from Madame Zora’s number book: 514, “catfish bit me,” no hit, better luck next time.
“Shit,” she concludes from the stoop in the book’s final lines. It’s a child’s declaration, but also a national indictment. Earlier, her mother tells her: “Francie, you can beat anything, anybody, if you face up to it and if you’re not scared.”
But Francie learns fast that Harlem’s streets reward stoicism with bruises, and clarity with sorrow. Boys are mugged into masculinity, girls are molested into womanhood, and everyone bets on dreams, literally.
Francie’s father runs numbers, trading hope in pocket change. “Any day you hit the number is Christmas,” she says, but the real odds always favor the butcher, the landlord, and the perverts hiding behind Sunday suits.
The novel staggers beautifully through scenes like Francie being offered a dime by a bald white man on the rooftop to “touch this,” or Sukie, Francie’s peach-skinned nemesis-bestie, punching her teeth loose over some casually flung comment about China Doll, the sister turned prostitute who gets dragged off the street by her pimp.
A nickel will get you a peek, a squeeze earns you two soup bones, and if you’re lucky - or unlucky - you can catch a rooftop flasher offering dimes for a touch of his “ugly, purple and wet-looking” thing.
Sexual abuse is as ordinary as corner-store candy, and just as cheap. The butcher, Mr. Morristein, feels up Francie while weighing ground meat, murmuring about how “big you’re getting,” his fingers slipping like sausages down her thigh. Max the Baker hands out rolls with a side of gropes. Francie and Sukie treat it like small talk. Sukie even brags about the old men in Mt. Morris Park, one of whom pays them to pull down their bloomers so he can drool like a drunk puppy. Sukie lays down the rules: no touching. The men ignore them. “Just let me look,” they beg, panting into the grass. It’s the sort of trauma that comes so often, and so early, it stops shocking and starts sounding like routine, roaches on the kitchen floor, or rats in the hallway. The girls are too wise to be innocent, too young to be safe.
In one of the book’s most withering ironies, Francie’s brother James Junior joins the Ebony Earls because “It don’t make no difference whether you’re bad or not, just as long as people think you are.” Sterling, the other brother, experiments with shoeshines and chemicals, dodging delinquency with a tight frown and scorn for feelings.
Francie’s parents oscillate between dysfunction and affection—her mother, brittle and practical; her father, magnetic and unreliable, a “giant of a man” who glows while playing piano at rent parties, then spends his pay on chitlins and gin.
When the ceiling leaks or the rats return, the family staples cardboard to the floor and prays. And yet, the most terrifying moment might be when Francie casually inserts a jumper wire into the fuse box to steal electricity, her small hand braced against death like it’s part of her chores.
Meriwether’s sentences walk the tightrope between humor and humiliation with unnerving ease. “You had to laugh with Mrs. Mackey,” Francie tells us, “she was that jolly and fat.” Later, she observes the furniture as “a gift from the Jewish plumber downstairs, and one year older than God.”
The prose carries a dangerous innocence, a language that skips until it stumbles on another grimy truth.
Francie will grow up, but into what? The perverts aren’t disappearing. The roof man hasn’t been arrested. The war council of the Ebony Earls still holds meetings. In the book’s final sigh, nothing changes - except Francie, who now sees through the American success story like a fish dream from Madame Zora’s number book: 514, “catfish bit me,” no hit, better luck next time.
February 29, 2024
Excellent excellent novel. So many beautiful moments capturing the tragedy and hilarity of girlhood, Harlem in the 1930s, and Black American identity in the early twentieth century. More people should read this! A modern classic
February 11, 2024
"Louise Meriwether erzählt allen, die lesen können und über Empathie verfügen, was es bedeutet, in diesem Land schwarz und eine Frau zu sein." - aus dem Vorwort von James Baldwin
Harlem, 1934: Die 12-jährige Francie lebt mit ihren beiden Brüdern und ihren Eltern in einer kleinen, heruntergekommenen Wohnung in einem Mehrfamilienhaus in Harlem. Dicht an dicht stehen dort die Häuser, eine Tasse Zucker reicht man sich durch die Fenster hin und her. Francies Alltag ist einerseits geprägt von der Schule, in die sie eigentlich ganz gerne geht, dem Haushalt, bei dem sie ihrer Mutter unter die Arme greifen muss und der Zeit, die sie draußen mit ihren Freundinnen verbringt, andererseits aber auch erfüllt von Rassismus, Misogynie und Gewalt, die sie immer wieder erlebt. Ihr Vater ist im illegalen Lotteriegeschäft tätig, ihr Bruder Mitglied einer berüchtigten Gang. Francie wächst in diesem Spannungsfeld auf - und verliert nie ihren Mut, ihren klaren, unerschrockenen Blick auf die Realität.
Louise Meriwether war eine afroamerikanische Schriftstellerin, Essayistin, Journalistin und Aktivistin. Sie starb letztes Jahr 100jährig in New York im Oktober, in dem auch endlich zum ersten Mal eines ihrer Bücher auf Deutsch erschien. Dank der Reihe rororo Entdeckungen, herausgegeben von Magda Birkmann und Nicole Seifert, in der Übersetzung von Andrea O'Brien, können nun auch deutschsprachige Lesende in das Werk dieser bemerkenswerten Autorin eintauchen. "Eine Tochter Harlems" ist die Geschichte einer aufgeweckten Zwölfjährigen zur Zeit der großen Depression in Harlem, die sich bereits in diesem sehr jungen Alter gegen sexuelle Übergriffe zur Wehr setzen muss, die miterlebt, wie ihr Bruder Polizeigewalt ausgesetzt ist und inhaftiert wird und deren Vater sich immer weiter in illegale Geschäfte verstrickt, während ihre Mutter mit aller Kraft versucht, die Familie zusammen zu halten. Francie ist aber auch voller Hoffnung und Mut, sie lässt sich nicht von ihren Träumen abbringen und stellt sich trotzig der vermeintlich vorgezeichneten Zukunft entgegen.
Louise Meriwethers Debütroman geht unter die Haut, ein fesselndes Stück Literaturgeschichte, das gerade auch aufgrund des einordnenden Nachworts von Magda Birkmann lange nach dem Lesen noch nachhallt. Diese Reihe ist ein Schatz!
Harlem, 1934: Die 12-jährige Francie lebt mit ihren beiden Brüdern und ihren Eltern in einer kleinen, heruntergekommenen Wohnung in einem Mehrfamilienhaus in Harlem. Dicht an dicht stehen dort die Häuser, eine Tasse Zucker reicht man sich durch die Fenster hin und her. Francies Alltag ist einerseits geprägt von der Schule, in die sie eigentlich ganz gerne geht, dem Haushalt, bei dem sie ihrer Mutter unter die Arme greifen muss und der Zeit, die sie draußen mit ihren Freundinnen verbringt, andererseits aber auch erfüllt von Rassismus, Misogynie und Gewalt, die sie immer wieder erlebt. Ihr Vater ist im illegalen Lotteriegeschäft tätig, ihr Bruder Mitglied einer berüchtigten Gang. Francie wächst in diesem Spannungsfeld auf - und verliert nie ihren Mut, ihren klaren, unerschrockenen Blick auf die Realität.
Louise Meriwether war eine afroamerikanische Schriftstellerin, Essayistin, Journalistin und Aktivistin. Sie starb letztes Jahr 100jährig in New York im Oktober, in dem auch endlich zum ersten Mal eines ihrer Bücher auf Deutsch erschien. Dank der Reihe rororo Entdeckungen, herausgegeben von Magda Birkmann und Nicole Seifert, in der Übersetzung von Andrea O'Brien, können nun auch deutschsprachige Lesende in das Werk dieser bemerkenswerten Autorin eintauchen. "Eine Tochter Harlems" ist die Geschichte einer aufgeweckten Zwölfjährigen zur Zeit der großen Depression in Harlem, die sich bereits in diesem sehr jungen Alter gegen sexuelle Übergriffe zur Wehr setzen muss, die miterlebt, wie ihr Bruder Polizeigewalt ausgesetzt ist und inhaftiert wird und deren Vater sich immer weiter in illegale Geschäfte verstrickt, während ihre Mutter mit aller Kraft versucht, die Familie zusammen zu halten. Francie ist aber auch voller Hoffnung und Mut, sie lässt sich nicht von ihren Träumen abbringen und stellt sich trotzig der vermeintlich vorgezeichneten Zukunft entgegen.
Louise Meriwethers Debütroman geht unter die Haut, ein fesselndes Stück Literaturgeschichte, das gerade auch aufgrund des einordnenden Nachworts von Magda Birkmann lange nach dem Lesen noch nachhallt. Diese Reihe ist ein Schatz!
December 20, 2023
Arrivo anche a tre e mezza, perché il romanzo non è solo godibile, ma anche capace di far comprendere con una certa leggerezza (il punto di vista narrativo è quello di una ragazzina di dodici anni) le condizioni di vita dei neri di Harlem negli anni Trenta del Novecento, di descrivere una realtà fatta di abusi e povertà in cui la delinquenza si pone come uno spartiacque fra l’innocenza dei suoi protagonisti e il loro passaggio all’età adulta.
April 29, 2018
Francie’s story touched my heart. I wanted her to leave 5th Avenue, away from “the struggle” but that’s really what I loved about the book so much. She was not a victim but a hero in so many ways. As a 12 year old growing up during the Great Depression, life was hard. And it sucked that Blacks were treated so poorly even when they tried to make an earnest living. Francie was just a little girl trying to navigate through the good and very bad parts of her environment. Her dad ran numbers and when that didn’t work, turned to other odd jobs. Her mother was resilient learning early on that she could not be too proud to ask for help, eventually getting herself a job and applying for relief, what we now call welfare. Her brothers were smart men dealt different cards from the very beginning- James Junior wasn’t a fan of school and wasn’t interested in college like his brother, Sterling. James Junior felt more comfortable running with the notorious gang, Ebony Earls- devastating his family. Francie wanted to keep the family together. Because she was the youngest, she was often tormented by the neighborhood kids. She accepted this punishment as a way of life and kept daydreaming about life outside of 5th Ave.
I wanted to rescue Francie from the disgusting grown men who lurked in the stairwells, on the streets and inside the grocery stores. She wasn’t safe at all and each day was a new battle. I admire her drive and precious inquiring mind. Although this book is fiction, I rooted for Francie the whole way and hope that she made it out.
I wanted to rescue Francie from the disgusting grown men who lurked in the stairwells, on the streets and inside the grocery stores. She wasn’t safe at all and each day was a new battle. I admire her drive and precious inquiring mind. Although this book is fiction, I rooted for Francie the whole way and hope that she made it out.
May 13, 2023
Romanzo di formazione nella difficile Harlem del 1934, una storia scritta negli anni '70 che solo ora giunge alla traduzione italiana. Nei panni di una ragazzina nera si vive la miseria, la violenza ed al contempo la forza degli affetti familiari, con uno stile emotivamente coinvolgente.
March 17, 2023
This wonderful classic by Louise Meriwether is a coming of age story told from the perspective of Francie, a twelve year old black girl living in Harlem with her family in 1934.
The writing is superb and the story is genuine. Having recently experienced the Depression Francie’s family is forced to move from a more affluent area to the impoverished neighborhood when her father’s employment opportunities continue to dwindle.
Her new neighborhood in Harlem is a mix of likewise seldom employed blacks, and immigrants (West Indian and African) amongst the somewhat more stable Jewish shop owners and few other businessmen.
Her story is one of struggle and survival against poverty, racism, gender discrimination, sexual and physical abuse. Apparently it, in many ways reflects Meriwether’s adolescence.
Focused on the strength of the women in the story to hold the family together, working tirelessly as a domestic cleaning homes for the white families and constantly encouraging her two sons and daughter to work hard at school, go to college and make something more of themselves, while supporting husbands dejected by their own inabilities. Her husband and Francie’s father is a numbers runner making a meager commission when someone hits on luck.
All the usual lessons of adolescence are here about being respectful of elders, stay in school, mind your parents, work hard, and on and in. That together with the unspoken lessons on sex, crime, peer pressure, discrimination of all sorts, and abuse.
Of course, kids being kids seldom listen to their parents and then suffer the results, sometimes with life altering consequences.
Francie gets a front row seat to the challenges not only of her parents but also of her brothers while experiencing her own struggles as well. Bullying by her best friend, who is one year older, sexual harassment by the white shopkeepers, discrimination at school by white teachers and classmates.
Meriwether is truly a talented storyteller showing us all sides of her characters and their struggles while exhibiting the messages of strength in family and community all in the face of adversity.
A wonderful account of a difficult historical journey.
The writing is superb and the story is genuine. Having recently experienced the Depression Francie’s family is forced to move from a more affluent area to the impoverished neighborhood when her father’s employment opportunities continue to dwindle.
Her new neighborhood in Harlem is a mix of likewise seldom employed blacks, and immigrants (West Indian and African) amongst the somewhat more stable Jewish shop owners and few other businessmen.
Her story is one of struggle and survival against poverty, racism, gender discrimination, sexual and physical abuse. Apparently it, in many ways reflects Meriwether’s adolescence.
Focused on the strength of the women in the story to hold the family together, working tirelessly as a domestic cleaning homes for the white families and constantly encouraging her two sons and daughter to work hard at school, go to college and make something more of themselves, while supporting husbands dejected by their own inabilities. Her husband and Francie’s father is a numbers runner making a meager commission when someone hits on luck.
All the usual lessons of adolescence are here about being respectful of elders, stay in school, mind your parents, work hard, and on and in. That together with the unspoken lessons on sex, crime, peer pressure, discrimination of all sorts, and abuse.
Of course, kids being kids seldom listen to their parents and then suffer the results, sometimes with life altering consequences.
Francie gets a front row seat to the challenges not only of her parents but also of her brothers while experiencing her own struggles as well. Bullying by her best friend, who is one year older, sexual harassment by the white shopkeepers, discrimination at school by white teachers and classmates.
Meriwether is truly a talented storyteller showing us all sides of her characters and their struggles while exhibiting the messages of strength in family and community all in the face of adversity.
A wonderful account of a difficult historical journey.
August 25, 2016
Really enjoyed this coming of age story of Francie Coffin growing up in Harlem in the 1930s. Most times funny, but many times sad, this is definitely a classic. Picked it up from the library, but I'll be adding this to my personal collection.
June 25, 2025
This little gem sits uncomfortably somewhere over the 4 star rainbow, belying the Goodreads ranking system as it is. My 'rating' betrays the amount of time between reading this; getting a chance to write this horseshit; plus/minus how much I remember. Let's throw that up on the overhead projector as a sort of platonic expression:
R = E·(1 +/− t) + m
So, that clears that up. And it may become axiomatic someday. Well, that’s for the history books to decide. Just sayin’.
As I can really only summon up the ending of the book 15 days later, 4 seems fair; this despite the fact that what I CAN summon (the ending) is a whiz-bang mic-drop of total genius. A real all-timer. Fuck, I hate math. Too cold.
Read it/gather ye own abacuses and get back to me, mathletes...
R = E·(1 +/− t) + m
So, that clears that up. And it may become axiomatic someday. Well, that’s for the history books to decide. Just sayin’.
As I can really only summon up the ending of the book 15 days later, 4 seems fair; this despite the fact that what I CAN summon (the ending) is a whiz-bang mic-drop of total genius. A real all-timer. Fuck, I hate math. Too cold.
Read it/gather ye own abacuses and get back to me, mathletes...
December 18, 2019
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore-And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
-Langston Hughes "Harlem"
After finishing “Daddy Was a Number Runner”, I couldn’t help but think of Langston Hughes and his famous poem about dreams in Harlem. It is almost as if that poem was written specifically for Francie Coffin and the people of Harlem during the Great Depression. Despite all it lacks such as decent housing, jobs, opportunity, or racial justice, it doesn’t lack for dreams. The dreams of young black boys who want to be scientists while cooking up experiments in their family’s cramped and rodent infested kitchens. The dreams of young black girls who want to be taken away to far flung locales by movie stars on their white horses. The dreams of black women who wish they could find a way to keep food on their family’s table. The dreams of black men who dream of having the dignity and respect of men.
Yes, Harlem here is awash in dreams. The reality however is this Harlem is awash in spiritual decay and death. One need look no further than the putrid smelling garbage piled up around the city, the boy working in the mortuary, or the very name of our heroine (Coffin). Death is all around these characters and there is no real viable way out for any of them. Francie’s mom is forced to become a maid to support her family and in a particularly painful scene in the book, we know this is the path France will follow. Sukie, Francie’s friend, has a sister who is a prostitute and we know that this is the future awaiting Sukie as well. These characters fight with every ounce of their being to be something else, anything else than what the future holds for them, but we share their pain that they are simply marking time until this future catches up to them.
How can it be otherwise when the most prestigious job even the most educated black person can aspire to is seamstress or janitor? When the white people who would potentially hire them, when not holding them in contempt, are offering nickels to young black girls to grope them in dark alleys?
No, we know this is a world Francie and her friends will never escape from no matter how much they struggle. Sometimes when it is all stacked up against you, and you’ve banged your head up against every wall in your way, and have barely even turned 14, you can only do what Francie does at the end of this story from a rooftop with her friends. You can only look up at the dark and starry sky, with all its potential, and mutter to yourself…
Shit.
November 22, 2018
Depressing in its apparent realism wonderfully evoked by a real talent, and in the way nothing seems to have really changed in the intervening hundredish years of contemporary pop culture and reporting are even remotely accurate. It’s hard to call it America’s Great Shame because it appears to have SO MANY Great Shames but to treat an entire people and their culture in this way really makes them no better than Nazis.
January 8, 2024
«Se dedicassi più tempo alle impunture potresti diventare una brava sarta, Francie. È un lavoro ben pagato, sai?»
«Non credo che mi piacerebbe, signora Abowitz. Da grande voglio fare la segretaria».
«Francie, bisogna essere realisti. Non ci sono molti posti per le ragazze nere in quel campo. E a scuola dovresti imparare cose che ti serviranno quando dovrai lavorare».
«Mi piacciono la stenografia e la dattilografia, signora Abowitz», dissi, all’improvviso ostinata, «e farò la segretaria».
Lei sospirò. «Non so perché vi insegnino cose del genere se non per frustrarvi».
Si sente subito che c’è del vero in questa storia. Infatti Louise Meriwether è cresciuta a Harlem e aveva dodici anni, come la protagonista, nel ’35, in piena Depressione (per la cronaca, diventò davvero una segretaria, e più tardi giornalista e scrittrice). Se l’America stava male, figuratevi Harlem. Un ritratto vivace e acuto di una folla di povera gente senza speranza, tutti disoccupati; chi si aggrappa all’onestà, spezzandosi la schiena e restando implacabilmente miserabile, chi si getta nella malavita, vive pericolosamente e non può più tornare indietro. L’innocenza, la spensieratezza e la gioia di vivere della ragazzina protagonista e delle sue amiche si scontra sempre più spesso, via via che escono dall’infanzia, con il terribile mondo degli adulti. La scuola impotente, il razzismo dei poliziotti, i ratti, le gang violente, i maniaci sessuali, le cimici nei materassi, il gelo d’inverno e l’afa d’estate, gli odiosi assistenti sociali, la fame, la galera, le sommosse, la sedia elettrica per i minorenni, la disperazione delle donne, e soprattutto l’eterna lotteria clandestina (da cui il gioco di parole del titolo italiano, per me fuori luogo) perché più la gente è povera, in ogni tempo e luogo della terra, e più getta via i suoi pochi spiccioli nelle lotterie, a riprova che la speranza è più necessaria del pane.
Notevole.
«Non credo che mi piacerebbe, signora Abowitz. Da grande voglio fare la segretaria».
«Francie, bisogna essere realisti. Non ci sono molti posti per le ragazze nere in quel campo. E a scuola dovresti imparare cose che ti serviranno quando dovrai lavorare».
«Mi piacciono la stenografia e la dattilografia, signora Abowitz», dissi, all’improvviso ostinata, «e farò la segretaria».
Lei sospirò. «Non so perché vi insegnino cose del genere se non per frustrarvi».
Si sente subito che c’è del vero in questa storia. Infatti Louise Meriwether è cresciuta a Harlem e aveva dodici anni, come la protagonista, nel ’35, in piena Depressione (per la cronaca, diventò davvero una segretaria, e più tardi giornalista e scrittrice). Se l’America stava male, figuratevi Harlem. Un ritratto vivace e acuto di una folla di povera gente senza speranza, tutti disoccupati; chi si aggrappa all’onestà, spezzandosi la schiena e restando implacabilmente miserabile, chi si getta nella malavita, vive pericolosamente e non può più tornare indietro. L’innocenza, la spensieratezza e la gioia di vivere della ragazzina protagonista e delle sue amiche si scontra sempre più spesso, via via che escono dall’infanzia, con il terribile mondo degli adulti. La scuola impotente, il razzismo dei poliziotti, i ratti, le gang violente, i maniaci sessuali, le cimici nei materassi, il gelo d’inverno e l’afa d’estate, gli odiosi assistenti sociali, la fame, la galera, le sommosse, la sedia elettrica per i minorenni, la disperazione delle donne, e soprattutto l’eterna lotteria clandestina (da cui il gioco di parole del titolo italiano, per me fuori luogo) perché più la gente è povera, in ogni tempo e luogo della terra, e più getta via i suoi pochi spiccioli nelle lotterie, a riprova che la speranza è più necessaria del pane.
Notevole.
February 16, 2022
“We were all mixed up in something together, us colored up here in the north, something I couldn’t quite figure out. But it was better up here than down south. That’s what I’d always heard people say, that folks down in Bip were just dying for a chance to come north to the promise land. This was the promise land, wasn’t it?
Daddy Was a Number Runner depicts what it is like being Black in Harlem during the 1930s. The story is told from the eyes of a 12-year-old girl named Francie who does not only tell her coming of age story but also tells what it is like to be entrapped by race and class during the great depression. Meriwether does not miss a beat as she makes sure to put forward the Harlem riot, the Scottsboro case of 1931, and the political viewpoint on Black lives. Through the harsh time of Harlem streets, Francie starts to grow up fast since life around her begins to get blurry with adults and real-life events.
Who defines beauty? Francie describes herself as skinny, Black, bad looking with short hair, a long neck, and all that space in between. But she is a child who is seen as a piece of meat to some of the boys in her neighborhood and adult men who feel up on her for extra food or a dime as a payment of secrecy.
There is something so aching watching a young child’s imagination and dream get tainted by the wickedness of the world and their hopes get smeared by a reality they did not ask for but Daddy Was a Number Runner transitions. As you watch families survive through the sharing of food, shelter, gossip, and customs. Yes, we may judge each other in the Black community, but the white man has no right. We watch as Francine’s dad’s definition of a man is crumbled as life-altering events keep happening that lead the family towards the stereotypes he wants to be avoided. The system finds a way to destroy not only Franice’s father but her neighbors too as they suffer through death, assault, murder, dropping out of school for the youth, loss of jobs, and government assistance. But everyone wants to play the numbers. The numbers symbolize Black hope to me. How even in our lowest times, we may find a glimpse of the prize to hold onto within each other catch a win no matter how small the amount may be.
One of the most critical points for me was how Francine letting a pedophile feel upon her for a dime struck fear into her. Not fear of what he did but fear of the feeling. The not knowing why her body responded and even though knowing it was wrong but more freaked out of the guilt she felt for her mother potentially finding out. Sex is often unspoken to the youth and yet while their bodies are developing and puberty hits, there is rarely anyone to answer the questions that scramble in their head. Little girls are often told to never let anyone touch their private parts, but no adults answer the why? No adult explains the body, its response, and what a pedophile is and let’s not even get into family secrets.
Daddy Was a Number Runner being Black love, Black trauma, Black tragedy, Black unity, and the heroism of ordinary folks.
Daddy Was a Number Runner depicts what it is like being Black in Harlem during the 1930s. The story is told from the eyes of a 12-year-old girl named Francie who does not only tell her coming of age story but also tells what it is like to be entrapped by race and class during the great depression. Meriwether does not miss a beat as she makes sure to put forward the Harlem riot, the Scottsboro case of 1931, and the political viewpoint on Black lives. Through the harsh time of Harlem streets, Francie starts to grow up fast since life around her begins to get blurry with adults and real-life events.
Who defines beauty? Francie describes herself as skinny, Black, bad looking with short hair, a long neck, and all that space in between. But she is a child who is seen as a piece of meat to some of the boys in her neighborhood and adult men who feel up on her for extra food or a dime as a payment of secrecy.
There is something so aching watching a young child’s imagination and dream get tainted by the wickedness of the world and their hopes get smeared by a reality they did not ask for but Daddy Was a Number Runner transitions. As you watch families survive through the sharing of food, shelter, gossip, and customs. Yes, we may judge each other in the Black community, but the white man has no right. We watch as Francine’s dad’s definition of a man is crumbled as life-altering events keep happening that lead the family towards the stereotypes he wants to be avoided. The system finds a way to destroy not only Franice’s father but her neighbors too as they suffer through death, assault, murder, dropping out of school for the youth, loss of jobs, and government assistance. But everyone wants to play the numbers. The numbers symbolize Black hope to me. How even in our lowest times, we may find a glimpse of the prize to hold onto within each other catch a win no matter how small the amount may be.
One of the most critical points for me was how Francine letting a pedophile feel upon her for a dime struck fear into her. Not fear of what he did but fear of the feeling. The not knowing why her body responded and even though knowing it was wrong but more freaked out of the guilt she felt for her mother potentially finding out. Sex is often unspoken to the youth and yet while their bodies are developing and puberty hits, there is rarely anyone to answer the questions that scramble in their head. Little girls are often told to never let anyone touch their private parts, but no adults answer the why? No adult explains the body, its response, and what a pedophile is and let’s not even get into family secrets.
Daddy Was a Number Runner being Black love, Black trauma, Black tragedy, Black unity, and the heroism of ordinary folks.
May 7, 2014
I read this on my Kindle I was so glad to see if offered. I first read this well written classic book way back in the 1970s when I was a teenager. It had only been out as a book a couple years then. that book stayed with me all these years. Daddy Was a Number Runner takes place in the 1930s depression in Harlem. It is seen through the eyes of Francie an African american, 12 year old girl. We seen Francie's life in Harlem over the course of a year. Louise Meriwether did an excellent job describing what Harlem was like during this time.Francie and her family live in poverty, there is never enough money a lot times not enough food. She has two older brothers. Her father makes some money being a "number runner".
this little girl witnesses things she shouldn't' Crime, prostitution. she faces her own dangers in Harlem. It was a tough time for her and her family. This is a very good book to read if you want to get an idea of what Harlem the depression 1930s and growing up is like under the circumstances. I am glad I got the chance to read this very well done book again.
this little girl witnesses things she shouldn't' Crime, prostitution. she faces her own dangers in Harlem. It was a tough time for her and her family. This is a very good book to read if you want to get an idea of what Harlem the depression 1930s and growing up is like under the circumstances. I am glad I got the chance to read this very well done book again.
September 21, 2015
A brutal and at times ebullient account of life in 1930s Harlem, in the midst of the depression, from a 12 year old girl’s point of view. If things are tough for the boys, who face work in the sewers if they’re lucky and instead join gangs and hang out on street corners, it’s infinitely worse for the girls: either you was a whore like China Doll or you worked in a laundry.. or had a baby every year. The girls take it for granted they would get ‘felt up’ when they go to the shops or the cinema (if they don’t let themselves get felt up they get less groceries). They all play the numbers in the forlorn hope of getting a windfall. However there is also music, laughter, a lot of fun, and support for each other. When boxer Joe Louis beats an opponent at Madison Sq Gardens, all Harlem are out on the streets: Strangers hugged me and I squeezed then back… The crowd spilled off the pavement into the street, stalling cars, which honked good-naturedly and then gave up as the riders jumped out and joined us in lindying down the middle of Lenox Avenue’.
February 15, 2024
4,5
RESENHA BRASILEIRA
O estilo de narrar me lembrou O Sol É Para Todos, mas a protagonista é Francie, uma criança de 12 anos vivendo no Harlem em 1934. A autora conta a história do ponto de vista dela, então é interessante observar o olhar inocente da garota diante de uma realidade tão dura, um paradoxo que dita o tom da trama. Ainda bem que esse livro é um clássico nos EUA, pois se tem um povo que precisa entrar em contato com outras realidades, inclusive as internas, é o estadunidense. Queria ler mais sobre a Francie, o que aconteceu com ela anos depois, se ela sobreviveu à adolescência, mas pelo que entendi, não há outros livros da autora sobre a Francie. Talvez pra poupar o leitor da crueldade da vida real.
ENGLISH REVIEW
The writing style of narration reminded me of To Kill a Mockingbird, but the protagonist is Francie, a 12-year-old black girl living in Harlem in 1934. The author tells the story from her point of view, so it's interesting to observe the innocent point of view of the harsh reality she lives in, a paradox that sets the tone of the plot. It's a good thing that this book is a classic in the USA, because if there is a people who need to get in touch with other realities, including internal ones, it is the North American. I just wanted to read more about Francie, what happened to her years later, if she survived adolescence, but from what I understand, there are no other books by the author about Francie. Perhaps to spare the reader the cruelty of real life.
RESENHA BRASILEIRA
O estilo de narrar me lembrou O Sol É Para Todos, mas a protagonista é Francie, uma criança de 12 anos vivendo no Harlem em 1934. A autora conta a história do ponto de vista dela, então é interessante observar o olhar inocente da garota diante de uma realidade tão dura, um paradoxo que dita o tom da trama. Ainda bem que esse livro é um clássico nos EUA, pois se tem um povo que precisa entrar em contato com outras realidades, inclusive as internas, é o estadunidense. Queria ler mais sobre a Francie, o que aconteceu com ela anos depois, se ela sobreviveu à adolescência, mas pelo que entendi, não há outros livros da autora sobre a Francie. Talvez pra poupar o leitor da crueldade da vida real.
ENGLISH REVIEW
The writing style of narration reminded me of To Kill a Mockingbird, but the protagonist is Francie, a 12-year-old black girl living in Harlem in 1934. The author tells the story from her point of view, so it's interesting to observe the innocent point of view of the harsh reality she lives in, a paradox that sets the tone of the plot. It's a good thing that this book is a classic in the USA, because if there is a people who need to get in touch with other realities, including internal ones, it is the North American. I just wanted to read more about Francie, what happened to her years later, if she survived adolescence, but from what I understand, there are no other books by the author about Francie. Perhaps to spare the reader the cruelty of real life.
April 27, 2015
The book follows a twelve-year-old girl growing up in 1930s Black Harlem. The book offers a fascinating look into poverty in urban areas. Although set in the 1930s, I thought the book was closer to the pos-WW2 era. The time frame is not as important as the story.
The heroine of the story learns many things while growing up. Her experiences could be those of any child living in the 1930s. She observed and felt a lot more anger than many other 1930s writers. Her best friend constantly wanted to beat her up, violence and aggression were constant among her brothers who were gang members, her father had anger issues, and of course, the police....
What I found most interesting was how the heroine adapted to her environment. Young, naive, and good-natured, she increased her swearing throughout the book, she began stealing from shops, she developed her own anger and was looking for trouble, and she proudly relates how she threw rotten tomatoes at the police. The book is the story how an innocent grows up into a teenager (or adult) with simmering anger and fear.
Sex also has a significant role in the book. The heroine's best friend has an older sister who is a prostitute. The heroine's brother emulates pimps, and probably replaces the main pimp in the book. The heroine, herself not even a teenager, uses sex appeal to get money or free food. She does not have sexual relations; but flashes pervy white males or allows them to grope her. She begins her foray into this marketplace by not understanding the motives of these creepy white men; but by the end of the book, she knows all too well.
Race has a significant role in the book. Her African-American community is plagued with poverty. She grows up seeing that the few whites in her neighborhood are crooked, pervy, or stuck up. This translates to her increasingly resenting and possibly hating whites. The first five white people she meets in the book are all pervert males. Meriwether seems to see this, and quickly introduces two whites who are shopkeepers....with new prejudices. The book is not so much a study on race relations because it is told solely from the point of view of a young child. However, the antagonism is clearly present.
I bought the book hoping to learn more about the numbers business. Meriwether does not go into the business except to describe the superstitious nature of the players. Her story is a brief window on the life of a young girl in crushing poverty. The value is showing how a young child develops prejudices that are often seen in adults.
The heroine of the story learns many things while growing up. Her experiences could be those of any child living in the 1930s. She observed and felt a lot more anger than many other 1930s writers. Her best friend constantly wanted to beat her up, violence and aggression were constant among her brothers who were gang members, her father had anger issues, and of course, the police....
What I found most interesting was how the heroine adapted to her environment. Young, naive, and good-natured, she increased her swearing throughout the book, she began stealing from shops, she developed her own anger and was looking for trouble, and she proudly relates how she threw rotten tomatoes at the police. The book is the story how an innocent grows up into a teenager (or adult) with simmering anger and fear.
Sex also has a significant role in the book. The heroine's best friend has an older sister who is a prostitute. The heroine's brother emulates pimps, and probably replaces the main pimp in the book. The heroine, herself not even a teenager, uses sex appeal to get money or free food. She does not have sexual relations; but flashes pervy white males or allows them to grope her. She begins her foray into this marketplace by not understanding the motives of these creepy white men; but by the end of the book, she knows all too well.
Race has a significant role in the book. Her African-American community is plagued with poverty. She grows up seeing that the few whites in her neighborhood are crooked, pervy, or stuck up. This translates to her increasingly resenting and possibly hating whites. The first five white people she meets in the book are all pervert males. Meriwether seems to see this, and quickly introduces two whites who are shopkeepers....with new prejudices. The book is not so much a study on race relations because it is told solely from the point of view of a young child. However, the antagonism is clearly present.
I bought the book hoping to learn more about the numbers business. Meriwether does not go into the business except to describe the superstitious nature of the players. Her story is a brief window on the life of a young girl in crushing poverty. The value is showing how a young child develops prejudices that are often seen in adults.
October 21, 2013
I came across this book by accident, and after reading it, I'm really surprised that I hadn't heard of it before. I think this should be required reading in schools--a book that really gives you a look into a specific time in history, but is actually interesting and accessible to the kids reading it.
The book tells the story of twelve-year-old Francie as she navigates her growing-up years through the increasingly rough streets of Harlem. Through the eyes of Francie, the reader sees just how desolate the Depression-era landscape can be--jobs are scarce, men are out of work, and children become adults way before their time. One the most striking parts of the book, to me, was the two contradictory sides of Francie. On one side, she seemed very nearly adult--setting up the family's "jumper" to steal electricity and knowing exactly which shopkeepers to avoid being alone with--but on the other, she was very childlike, like when she innocently mentions to her mother she found her father lounging on the bed of a neighbor woman, never grasping the enormity of what that actually meant.
It was completely shocking to me how rampant sexual assault and molestation was, and how the girls in the neighborhood knew so early on what they needed to do to protect themselves. Still, it was very disturbing how the shopkeepers in the book took it as their due to fondle or molest the young girls, knowing full well the girls would keep coming back since their families needed the store's provisions on credit.
Parts of this book were hard to read, but the story seemed so important that it seemed vital to finish. Plus, the writer crafted such a quickly-paced story that I never felt any drag in which I could even think about putting it down. If teachers are looking for a book on the effects of the Depression in poor urban areas, I really think they should give this a shot.
The book tells the story of twelve-year-old Francie as she navigates her growing-up years through the increasingly rough streets of Harlem. Through the eyes of Francie, the reader sees just how desolate the Depression-era landscape can be--jobs are scarce, men are out of work, and children become adults way before their time. One the most striking parts of the book, to me, was the two contradictory sides of Francie. On one side, she seemed very nearly adult--setting up the family's "jumper" to steal electricity and knowing exactly which shopkeepers to avoid being alone with--but on the other, she was very childlike, like when she innocently mentions to her mother she found her father lounging on the bed of a neighbor woman, never grasping the enormity of what that actually meant.
It was completely shocking to me how rampant sexual assault and molestation was, and how the girls in the neighborhood knew so early on what they needed to do to protect themselves. Still, it was very disturbing how the shopkeepers in the book took it as their due to fondle or molest the young girls, knowing full well the girls would keep coming back since their families needed the store's provisions on credit.
Parts of this book were hard to read, but the story seemed so important that it seemed vital to finish. Plus, the writer crafted such a quickly-paced story that I never felt any drag in which I could even think about putting it down. If teachers are looking for a book on the effects of the Depression in poor urban areas, I really think they should give this a shot.
May 13, 2021
With a foreword by James Baldwin, I knew I was in for something good.
Francie is a pre-teen Black girl living in 30s Harlem in a tenement with her father, mother and two brothers. The book makes no bones about the realities of poverty, structural racism, addiction and sexual assault.
Despite these heavy themes, Francie’s voice shines through and I found myself invested in her well-being and life in Harlem. In a far out parallel, I’m vaguely reminded of Spike Lee’s Crooklyn - another work set in New York (although Brooklyn) told through the eyes of a young Black girl.
Francie is a pre-teen Black girl living in 30s Harlem in a tenement with her father, mother and two brothers. The book makes no bones about the realities of poverty, structural racism, addiction and sexual assault.
Despite these heavy themes, Francie’s voice shines through and I found myself invested in her well-being and life in Harlem. In a far out parallel, I’m vaguely reminded of Spike Lee’s Crooklyn - another work set in New York (although Brooklyn) told through the eyes of a young Black girl.
November 4, 2024
Man this book was tough, and hauntingly beautiful. Francine’s story is so powerful, and her fight to break out of a pre-determined life path is inspiring.
August 4, 2019
Francie Coffin is an African-American twelve-year-old girl growing up in Harlem with her parents and two older brothers, Sterling and Junior. It's the 1930s. Times are rough. Really rough. Francie sleeps on the bed bug-ridden sofa in the living room; their dad runs numbers; Sterling is struggling to stay on the straight and narrow; Junior has already failed; their mom tries to find ways to feed the family on the same tinned food night after night, and to protect her family from the neighborhood, the police, and themselves.
We read about all of these events from Francie's young eyes. It is shocking at times, even in 2019, to read some of the experiences that Francie and her family endured. It's a coming-of-age story, so there are references to sex, violence, menstruation, incest, abuse, you name it. Meriwether attacks these topics head-on in a brave and refreshing way. There are no vague terms for abuse in this book, the camera does not pan away when something uncomfortable happens, for lack of a better phrase. We see what Francie sees, we have to process what Francie processes - we are in it together, for better or worse. When her best friend, Sukie, beats up Francie periodically (we learn why later on in the story), we feel Francie's physical and emotional pain.
In the foreword, James Baldwin compares Francie in Meriwether's story to the Francie of Betty Smith's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn which took place about twenty years before Meriwether's book.
I'm not sure why this book isn't as well-known as A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - perhaps it's because of some of the subjects Meriwether touches on. It's an uncomfortable read at times, and would be very triggering for some readers. Be aware of that going into it, but I would recommend this book to most readers.
Uncomfortable reading does not mean it should not be read.
We read about all of these events from Francie's young eyes. It is shocking at times, even in 2019, to read some of the experiences that Francie and her family endured. It's a coming-of-age story, so there are references to sex, violence, menstruation, incest, abuse, you name it. Meriwether attacks these topics head-on in a brave and refreshing way. There are no vague terms for abuse in this book, the camera does not pan away when something uncomfortable happens, for lack of a better phrase. We see what Francie sees, we have to process what Francie processes - we are in it together, for better or worse. When her best friend, Sukie, beats up Francie periodically (we learn why later on in the story), we feel Francie's physical and emotional pain.
In the foreword, James Baldwin compares Francie in Meriwether's story to the Francie of Betty Smith's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn which took place about twenty years before Meriwether's book.
Compare the heroine of this book - to say nothing of the landscape - with the heroine of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and you will see to what extent poverty wears a color - and also, as we put it in Harlem, arrives at an attitude. By this time, the heroine of Tree...is among those troubled Americans, that silent (!) majority which wonders what black Francie wants, and why she's so unreliable as a maid.The landscape that Baldwin references is the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn in Smith's novel, written in 1943, and, obviously, Harlem in Meriwether's book, written in 1970. Having read both books now, I find Meriwether's novel more realistic, grittier. I'm one of the few who didn't care that much for A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, long assuming that it was because I read it too late in my life (rather than as a younger reader as so many who clearly love the book). But after reading Meriwether's book that covers some similar situations, but illustrates the real issues that go just beyond class, I find Meriwether's book much more relevant to shit going on in our country today, including (but not limited to) wrongful incarceration.
(p5-6)
I'm not sure why this book isn't as well-known as A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - perhaps it's because of some of the subjects Meriwether touches on. It's an uncomfortable read at times, and would be very triggering for some readers. Be aware of that going into it, but I would recommend this book to most readers.
Uncomfortable reading does not mean it should not be read.
October 23, 2023
Im Harlem der 30er Jahre, gebeutelt durch die Wirtschaftskrise, kämpft die Familie der 12-jährigen Francie gegen Armut, Rassismus und Bettwanzen und hält sich gerade so mit schlecht bezahlten Dienstleistungsjobs und illegalem Glücksspiel über Wasser.
Francie und ihre Freundinnen schwänzen die Schule, wo sie in den eingeschüchterten weißen Lehrerinnen ohnehin keine Rollenvorbilder finden können, und vertreiben sich die Zeit auf den Straßen des Viertels, wo sie sexuelle Belästigung erleben. Wege zur Selbstermächtigung suchen die Jugendlichen teils in Gewalt, wie Francies älterer Bruder, der sich einer brutalen Straßenbande anschließt, oder in der Prostitution.
Eine starke Geschichte über das Aufwachsen als junge schwarze Frau von einer hierzulande bisher unbekannten Autorin und eines der Werke, die nun von Magda Birkmann und Nicole Seifert („Frauen Literatur“) in einer neuen Reihe des Rowohlt Verlags wiederentdeckt werden, was ich großartig finde. Es handelt sich um den Debütroman der Autorin, der wie bei Toni Morrison stark von eigenen Kindheitserfahrungen geprägt ist. Louise Meriwether ist wenige Tage vor Erscheinen dieser deutschen Erstausgabe am 10.10.2023 hundertjährig verstorben.
Francie und ihre Freundinnen schwänzen die Schule, wo sie in den eingeschüchterten weißen Lehrerinnen ohnehin keine Rollenvorbilder finden können, und vertreiben sich die Zeit auf den Straßen des Viertels, wo sie sexuelle Belästigung erleben. Wege zur Selbstermächtigung suchen die Jugendlichen teils in Gewalt, wie Francies älterer Bruder, der sich einer brutalen Straßenbande anschließt, oder in der Prostitution.
Eine starke Geschichte über das Aufwachsen als junge schwarze Frau von einer hierzulande bisher unbekannten Autorin und eines der Werke, die nun von Magda Birkmann und Nicole Seifert („Frauen Literatur“) in einer neuen Reihe des Rowohlt Verlags wiederentdeckt werden, was ich großartig finde. Es handelt sich um den Debütroman der Autorin, der wie bei Toni Morrison stark von eigenen Kindheitserfahrungen geprägt ist. Louise Meriwether ist wenige Tage vor Erscheinen dieser deutschen Erstausgabe am 10.10.2023 hundertjährig verstorben.
January 11, 2018
“I tell you, brothers and sisters, the black man in this country must make his own life. The crying Negro must die. The cringing Negro must die. If he don’t kill hisself the environment will, and we been dying for too long. The man who gets the power is the man who develops his own strength. I ain’t talking about strength in his muscles but in his mind. We got to get better education. We got to build Negro economic and political freedom. And if we don’t, in fifty years from now, or sooner, this country will be bloody with race wars.”
This novel captures honestly and not without controversy the life of POC living in Harlem during the Great Depression.
This novel captures honestly and not without controversy the life of POC living in Harlem during the Great Depression.
February 26, 2019
A vivid portrayal, of a down-on-their-luck Harlem family, during The Great Depression. I'm glad I gave this one a re-read. I don't think I picked up on the socio-economic, historical, or political and cultural nuances that are here the first time.
December 6, 2019
This book is indeed a classic. So beautiful!!! Full review here:
https://bibliophileonabudget.wordpres...
https://bibliophileonabudget.wordpres...
November 17, 2024
Feels like a hidden gem, can’t believe it’s not more popular!
June 18, 2020
It was storming, one of those reddish days that looks like the earth's on fire. It got darker and darker, all in the middle of the day, like the sun had gone off somewhere and died. The rain came down with a roar. The thunder boomed, the lightning cracked across the sky, and as I pressed my nose against the living-room window looking out at the storm, I shivered just a little, for who could tell that this wasn't doomsday. Gabriel, Gabriel, blow on your horn and all ye dead rise up to be judged.
One of the things that drew me to this book was James Baldwin's foreword:
We have seen this life from the point of view of a black boy growing into a menaced and probably brief manhood; I don't know that we have ever seen it from the point of view of a black girl on the edge of a terrifying womanhood.
Daddy Was a Number Runner is the coming of age story of Francie Coffin, a young girl living in Harlem with her family who are struggling to get by, both financially and as a Black family in America.
This is a novel that looks closely at community - how it is simultaneously loving and supportive but also a place of apathy, violence, and abuse. While Francie is trying to navigate her way through puberty, the men around her are trying to use her body for their own sexual gratification, be it touching her body in exchange for goods/money, or directly trying to take her virginity. Within the first few pages of the book, Meriwether details a man who exposes himself to Francie, seemingly every time he sees her, and this also happens to the other girls of her age in her neighbourhood. This is all told through this young girl's eyes, so there is an aspect of innocence and confusion as to what is happening to her. On top of all of that, she is also trying to understand her own sexuality, exploring it through pornographic comic strips that she shares with her friends. This is handled so brilliantly by Meriwether as she deals with Francie's conflicting emotions regarding what the men are doing to her without ever placing the blame on her.
I love the way in which the book explores family relationships, particularly the ways in which they shift as a child grows up and becomes more aware of the subtle family dynamics that they weren't aware of when they were younger. It's very quickly established that Francie is closer to her dad, who she calls Daddy, whereas she calls her mum the more formal Mother. Her father is more lenient with her, not disciplining her the same way that he does her older brothers, while on the other hand, her mother is strict, making Francie run errands that embarrass her, and Francie often states that her mother feels like a stranger to her. However, as Francie gets older, these dynamics begin to change, and she comes to understand that the love she receives from her parents are indeed different but, ultimately, that her mother's love is more substantial and consistent. I really loved the way Meriwether portrayed this - she doesn't do it with loud, dramatic scenes where feelings are overtly stated. Instead, she shows it gradually through small, seemingly insignificant moments, and how they make Francie feel, which I thought was much more effective and realistic.
The majority of the book focuses on the Coffin family and their small community, but she also touches on topics such as police brutality, riots, gangs, and systemic racism. So many moments from those scenes could be transplanted into the news today and they wouldn't feel out of place. Baldwin said: Louise Meriwether has told everyone who can read or feel what it means to be a black man or a woman in this country, and that still stands today's America n 2020. I think this classic should be recommended in the same breath as other coming of age stories such as A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and To Kill a Mockingbird.
One of the things that drew me to this book was James Baldwin's foreword:
We have seen this life from the point of view of a black boy growing into a menaced and probably brief manhood; I don't know that we have ever seen it from the point of view of a black girl on the edge of a terrifying womanhood.
Daddy Was a Number Runner is the coming of age story of Francie Coffin, a young girl living in Harlem with her family who are struggling to get by, both financially and as a Black family in America.
This is a novel that looks closely at community - how it is simultaneously loving and supportive but also a place of apathy, violence, and abuse. While Francie is trying to navigate her way through puberty, the men around her are trying to use her body for their own sexual gratification, be it touching her body in exchange for goods/money, or directly trying to take her virginity. Within the first few pages of the book, Meriwether details a man who exposes himself to Francie, seemingly every time he sees her, and this also happens to the other girls of her age in her neighbourhood. This is all told through this young girl's eyes, so there is an aspect of innocence and confusion as to what is happening to her. On top of all of that, she is also trying to understand her own sexuality, exploring it through pornographic comic strips that she shares with her friends. This is handled so brilliantly by Meriwether as she deals with Francie's conflicting emotions regarding what the men are doing to her without ever placing the blame on her.
I love the way in which the book explores family relationships, particularly the ways in which they shift as a child grows up and becomes more aware of the subtle family dynamics that they weren't aware of when they were younger. It's very quickly established that Francie is closer to her dad, who she calls Daddy, whereas she calls her mum the more formal Mother. Her father is more lenient with her, not disciplining her the same way that he does her older brothers, while on the other hand, her mother is strict, making Francie run errands that embarrass her, and Francie often states that her mother feels like a stranger to her. However, as Francie gets older, these dynamics begin to change, and she comes to understand that the love she receives from her parents are indeed different but, ultimately, that her mother's love is more substantial and consistent. I really loved the way Meriwether portrayed this - she doesn't do it with loud, dramatic scenes where feelings are overtly stated. Instead, she shows it gradually through small, seemingly insignificant moments, and how they make Francie feel, which I thought was much more effective and realistic.
The majority of the book focuses on the Coffin family and their small community, but she also touches on topics such as police brutality, riots, gangs, and systemic racism. So many moments from those scenes could be transplanted into the news today and they wouldn't feel out of place. Baldwin said: Louise Meriwether has told everyone who can read or feel what it means to be a black man or a woman in this country, and that still stands today's America n 2020. I think this classic should be recommended in the same breath as other coming of age stories such as A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and To Kill a Mockingbird.
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