The Devil Went Down to Jamaica
John Crow’s Devil by Marlon James is a story told by a natural-born story-teller. James grabs attention early with words reminiscent of an epic promising to unfold: “No living thing flew over the village of Gibbeah, neither fowl, nor dove, nor crow. Yet few looked above, terrified should an omen come in a shriek or a flutter.” He introduces the Apostle, crazed Lucinda, and the Rum Preacher, and a village fenced in, fenced off: “Every city of righteousness had a wall, said the Apostle.”
And from that incantatory beginning, entitled “The End”, his story begins, the story of how the devil came to the tiny village, looking for some souls to damn. The story flows like a river, gathering strength as it winds its way along, widening with violence and deepening with fear, the currents faster and faster under threat of damnation, until we reach the moment of catharsis, the thundering moment when the town is laid out for judgment. When we are released, spent, into the calm basin of the end entitled, “The Beginning”, there is just a glimmer of hope on the other side of the river: “The river roared as the bird flew over to the other side.” A woman dressed in blue (symbol of Mary) stands alone, with two fingers pointing skyward, promising new life. But for whom?
John Crow’s Devil is hypnotic, horrific, and beautiful. James’ language is mesmerizing in its sound and pacing — this is a book that can be read out loud — and the plot sears with metaphoric power; what has come to Gibbeah is just another kind of slavery, another abuse of the word of God to instigate a new servitude and a relinquishment of humanity. There is a reconfigured form of subjugation in town but it carries the same totems of blood, whips, and pain. James’ original and viscerally-drawn characters either fight the subjugation or submit to it but they all enchant. Their enchanting power is like obeah (black magic): terrifying but we cannot look away.
This novel is a beautiful work of art, a word-painted nightmare straight from Bosch’s imagined Last Judgment via the fertile, wet fields of Jamaica. The difference between James and Bosch is that James sees redemption as a possibility for all who are living, without a prayer of hope left for the dead. Let the crows come take the dead away; a dove will bring light to the living.
