He whispered, I’m sorry, Leona, and then the wind took him, he felt himself going over, head down, the wind, the stars, the lights, the water, all rolled together, all right. The wind tore at him, at his head and shoulders, while something in him screamed, Why? Why? He thought of Eric. He lifted himself by his hands on the rail, lifted himself as high as he could, and leaned far out. He dropped his head as though someone had struck him and looked down at the water. He could never go down into the city again. Something in Rufus which could not break shook him like a rag doll and splashed salt water all over his face and filled his throat and his nostrils with anguish. He thought, You bastard, you motherfucking bastard. He stood at the center of the bridge and it was freezing cold. He began to walk slowly to the center of the bridge, observing that, from this height, the city which had been so dark as he walked through it seemed to be on fire.
There were muted lights on the Jersey shore and here and there a neon flame advertising something somebody had for sale. Now the lights of the cars on the highway seemed to be writing an endless message, writing with awful speed in a fine, unreadable script. It portrayed many themes that were taboo at the time of its release, including bisexuality, interracial couples and extramarital affairs. Then he stood on the bridge, looking over, looking down. Another Country is a novel by James Baldwin. But it was over there, past the highway, where he could see the speeding cars. He thought how he had never before understood how an animal could smell water. The bridge was nearly over his head, intolerably high but he did not yet see the water. Tall apartment buildings, lightless, loomed against the dark sky and seemed to be watching him, seemed to be pressing down on him. So why not take the rest? He got off at the station named for the bridge built to honor the father of his country.Īnd walked up the steps, into the streets, which were empty. He felt their stares but he felt far away from them. The train began to move, half-empty now and with each stop it became lighter soon the white people who were left looked at him oddly. Set in Greenwich Village, Harlem, and France, among other locales, Another Country is a novel of passions-sexual, racial, political, artistic-that is stunning for its emotional intensity and haunting sensuality, depicting men and women, blacks and whites.
…Suddenly he knew that he was never going home anymore. Revisiting scenes from his life, meeting with some of his friends for the last time. Rufus Scott, a young black jazz musician, is meandering through Manhattan – from Times Square down to the Village, then by subway up to 125th Street.