
The celebrated writer discusses how she found her unique voice, and a new collection of her writings that begins with her first published piece in The New Yorker.
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Jamaica Kincaid
This.
New Yorker Radio Hour Intro
Is the New Yorker Radio Hour, a co production of WNYC Studios and the New Yorker.
David Remnick
This is the New Yorker Radio Hour. I'm David Remnick. All manner of writers have graced the pages of the New Yorker in the past century, including many of the greatest prose stylists of our time. But it's very rare to find one who nailed their unique voice right off the bat the way Jamaica Kincaid did. It was 1974 when Jamaica first began writing for this magazine, reporting about life in New York, very often for the Talk of the Town section. She was a young immigrant from the Caribbean island of Antigua. Kincaid started writing with a wit and a particular bite about the world she had entered. She went on to write about her family, about Antigua, about how people from the Caribbean see Americans next door. She wrote about the dissolution of a marriage, about gardening, which she took up with extraordinary passion. She once said, everything I write is autobiographical, but none of it is true in the sense of a court of law. You know, a lie is just a lie. The truth, on the other hand, is complicated. Jamaica Kincaid's new book, is a collection of pieces that spans almost half a century in print.
Interviewer
It's a total delight.
David Remnick
It's called Putting Myself Together.
Interviewer
Jamaica. I've been reading you for half my life, but I have to say there are so many pieces here that I knew very little about. And in a way, they form a rough autobiography of your writing life, at least. And your first words printed in the New Yorker, it turns out, were a dispatch from the West Indian American Day Parade. And this is for our listeners who haven't attended a huge event that marches through Brooklyn on Labor Day. Could you read an excerpt from that very first Talk of the Town piece that you wrote for the New Yorker in 1974?
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes, I got to watch the parade from the second best platform of dignitaries. The first best platform of dignitaries was reserved for politicians. West Indians are the only group of people I know who still have a great deal of respect for politicians, men of the cloth and school teachers. And anyone who makes a career in any of the above fields. Automatically becomes dignified. I saw Shirley Chisholm. She sat with her legs crossed at the ankles. Howard Samuels was there. No one seemed to recognize him. And he looked like a man who had got himself invited to the wrong party. Soon after, the first float appeared. It carried the Carnival Queen and her lady in waiting. The queen looked regal enough in her long white gown and silver crown. But instead of waving to the crowd and smiling like a dummy. The way queens usually behave. She was snapping her fingers, wiggling her hips and shuffling her feet all at the same time. I liked her very much and personally think she's going to start a new vogue in royal public behavior.
Interviewer
Jamaica, this is you, right off the bat. You're 70. How old now?
Jamaica Kincaid
Now I'm 76.
Interviewer
And you were 25. And it sounds like you. Don't you think? When you read this, do you hear yourself?
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes. I'm surprised. It sounds like me.
Interviewer
Tell me how you came to write that piece. You came as an immigrant from Antigua?
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes.
Interviewer
Then still a British colony?
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes.
Interviewer
And at age 25, you're writing a Talk of the Town piece? In short order. How did that happen?
Jamaica Kincaid
My mother took me out of school. I was very smart. And the idea was to send me to work to help support the family. I was very resentful and even bitter, Though I didn't have words for these feelings. Anyway, they sent me off to America with a family. And I then proceeded to get a ged, Go to school at night. By the way, that would have made me in those days an illegal alien. Though now I think an undocumented person.
Interviewer
You're saying ICE would have been hunting you down if it had been today?
Jamaica Kincaid
Absolutely. And for all I know, they still might. They might find something wrong with my records. Maybe. I. I don't know. I still. I wait for them to turn up. And I'm not afraid of them.
Interviewer
You were working, as I remember. As is what we now call it.
Jamaica Kincaid
An au pair.
Interviewer
An au pair. A nanny.
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes. Though I called myself a servant. Because au pairs were usually young white women from Europe taking a break or something. But the family I lived with did not think of me as a servant. They had people who cleaned their homes and so on. I mainly looked after their children. But I always had in mind that I would do something on my own. I didn't know what it was. I'd always liked writing and reading, though I never really wrote anything. I would pretend I'd written the book. I Was reading.
Interviewer
You're one of the few writers that I've ever heard of. You say that the first book you read was the dictionary.
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes.
Interviewer
And then you say something that I think most writers wouldn't be able to say. That you read the Bible whole. I believe both of those things when I read you.
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes, yes. That repetition of words comes from the dictionary. And giving the same word a different meaning. The way of telling a story. Again, repetition. You know how the Bible will begin a story and then tell it again. But the way it will tell it is to begin with a conjunction. Which you're not supposed to do. And I think not enough is written about or thought about. The profound philosophical implications of the word. And how do you mean? If you begin a sentence with. And there's a whole world that is not described. And it's joined to what you're writing. But you don't see it. It's somewhere off the page.
Interviewer
How did you come to Write at age 25 for the new Yorker? How did that happen?
Jamaica Kincaid
Well, George Trow used to write about me in Talk of the Town. He would refer to me as our sassy black friend Jamaica Kincaid. One day, I remember saying something to him. He'd taken me to dinner at a Lebanese restaurant. And I said something to him, and he laughed so hard. And he said, would you like to meet Mr. Sean? And I had no idea who Mr. Shawn was.
Interviewer
The editor of the magazine at the time.
Jamaica Kincaid
And I said, oh, sure. Yes. So he took me to meet Mr. Shawn at the Algonquin for lunch. I ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. Cause I was always hungry. And Mr. Shawn ordered corn flakes, I think. And I was horrified because I thought I had used up the lunch budget. And we talked for a while. And then afterwards, that was the spring of 1974. Later, he said to George, well, she should give it a try. And I did. So that must have been April or May. Cause I still have the dress I wore. I didn't really have anything to write. But the West Indian Day Parade was coming up. What I just read to you was supposed to be a summary. And I thought Mr. Shawn would rewrite them. Or have George rewrite them. And he published it just the way I wrote it. And that's when I knew that I was writing.
Interviewer
Somewhere in the book, you say that you didn't think of yourself as black or African American. That you grew up where everybody was black.
Jamaica Kincaid
I did.
Interviewer
And how did that shape your arrival, your identity?
Jamaica Kincaid
In those terms, people were racist, as you can imagine. All the time. But I never understood it. I thought they were just badly brought up, they were so rude. So I never had the feeling that if I was in a place and I was the only African American, black person, whatever John macwarthur wants to call me now. But it didn't seem to affect my inner self, that self of who I think I am.
Interviewer
When you came here, Jamaica, you had a different name. Was that part of a reinvention of yourself? Was it part of a creative exploration, an idea of yourself as a writer? Why did you do it?
Jamaica Kincaid
When I was sent away by my mother, and I was so bitter about it, and all I could think about was my mother, what my mother had done, how she had brought me up and so immediately started to write. But I didn't want her to know that I was doing this thing that I was sure I would fail at. I was sure I would fail at it, but that wouldn't have stopped me. My mother was so full of pride. She didn't want people to know that I understood the darkness that she had cast me into by sending me away and interrupting my education. So she would pretend she never read it, which was very good for me, because then I could just write. Cause she's never going to read it. That was another reason to. Later I could understand why I had to change my name. Because Elaine Potter Richardson could not write about Elaine Potter Richardson, but Jamaica Kincaid could write about Elaine Potter Richardson.
Interviewer
Well, you write a lot about your childhood and your family. There's another piece that appeared in 1992 in the journal grand street, quite a wonderful journal, one that changed a lot over time. And it's a piece called Biography of Address. Would you read that passage for us, Jamika?
Jamaica Kincaid
My second birthday was not a major event in anyone's life, certainly not my own. It was not my first and it was not my last. I am now 43 years old, but my mother, perhaps because of circumstances I would not have known then and to know now is not a help, perhaps only because of an established custom, but only in her family. Other people didn't do this to mark the occasion of turning two years old, had my ears pierced one day at dusk, I would not have called it that. Then I was taken to someone's house, a woman from Dominica, a woman who was as dark as my mother was fair. And yet they were so similar that I am sure now, as I was then, that they shared the same tongue. And two thorns that had been heated in a fire were passed through my earlobes. I do not know and could not have known then if the pain I experienced resembled in any way the pain my mother experienced while giving birth to me, or even if my mother, in having my ears bored in that way at that time, meant to express hostility or aggression towards me, but without meaning to and without knowing that it was possible to mean to.
Interviewer
There are many things fascinating about this piece of writing, and one of them is a technical thing that you're able to indicate with your voice, but the reader on the page would see more vividly is your use of parenthesis constantly through one paragraph. There are probably, I don't know, a half a dozen at least, sets of parenthesis. Tell me about that. You're telling a story and you're recollecting something, but you're also moving in and out of time. And the use of parenthesis is just kind of masterful.
Jamaica Kincaid
It turns out that I have been obsessed with the notion of time from before I even knew there was such a thing. You know, I grew up in a place where you told time. By the way, the church bell rang 1 o' clock 1, 2 o' clock 2, 3 o' clock 3. And so I would sit there listening for the time in between one and two. And sometimes it would seem forever before two came along. Something happens between then and now. I've written a book called See Now Then to put time in a domesticated way, because it's one of the things we humans do with time is we domesticate it. You know, lunch at noon, dinner and so on. And just yesterday I read that this very day we are in is the shortest day of the year because the earth will only go around the sun not quite 24 hours, and scientists don't know whether it's the moon moving away. There are all sorts of explanations, but now I'm the sort of person who, when I see that read that, I just am. My day's completely undone because I think.
Interviewer
What.
David Remnick
I'm speaking with the writer Jamaica Kincaid. More in a moment.
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David Remnick
About starvation in Gaza with a photo.
Jamaica Kincaid
Of an emaciated child was attacked for.
David Remnick
Failing to say that the child also had a pre existing condition.
Jamaica Kincaid
This is one child when hundreds of thousands of children are in different stages of malnutrition. So you focus on mistakes to blur the main image that you don't want anyone to see.
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Interviewer
Time is your obsession.
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes.
Interviewer
And somewhere in the book there's a reference to reading Proust, who is the great poet of time.
Jamaica Kincaid
Yeah, but I read Proust and then I couldn't read it anymore.
Interviewer
Why is that so much Chocolate cake? No, by chocolate cake I mean the real. It's very rich in the way a cake.
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes, yes. Well, I began to think of it as this sort of indulgence Europeans have diverting themselves from the terrible things they've done. So yes, the chocolate. But I want to say to Mr. Proust, well, do you know how this chocolate gets made? Or these madeleines and all these little fine things. You're interested. Do you know what happened? How it now people hear me say that, they say, oh, but the aesthetics, the this, the that. And I cannot for some reason get away from the fact that because you.
Interviewer
Know where the sugar was made.
Jamaica Kincaid
I know where the sugar was made. I know where these things come from. Yes. So.
Interviewer
And yet I would say Jamaica in your own fiction. The politics of things, the history of things is not, I mean it's not like Dickens. It's not like that kind of political realism. It's well submerged in a sense. No.
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes, I would say that because it's not that I'm opposed to the chocolate being made. I would like it recognized and there is a way. Life is complicated, and we human beings are always in violation, and we seem unable to help. But I wish it would be more recognized that the chocolate didn't just come out of the clouds. Or a box. Or a box. Well, the box had to be made to that. It has a reality to it that is even magical. You know, I don't mind Columbus Day at all. I have a bust of Thomas Jefferson in my garden. I don't mind things, but I like them to be at least admitted, you know?
Interviewer
Now, Jamaica, I know you fault me for this, and you're 100% right to do so, but I'm not an outdoorsman. I'm what's called an indoorsman. And you are a passionate, passionate gardener. I'd like you to read a bit from the Kind of Gardener I Am Not. That essay opens with a passage about you and another writer, Ian Fraser, an old buddy of yours.
Jamaica Kincaid
Oh, gosh.
Interviewer
And you're on a road trip together.
David Remnick
You've stopped at a small town in Montana.
Jamaica Kincaid
Yes. Let me see. It goes like this. There was still quite a bit of daylight, so Sandy Ian Fraser, who had been to Cutbank before, drove us around the small town. And then we got out and walked a bit. It was in Cutbank that I saw the garden and the kind of gardener that I am not. In the front yard of each little house, the houses were small bungalow, like a style of architecture very much suited to vast expanses of landscape were little gardens blooming with flowers. The flowers, almost without exception, were petunias, red, purple, white, impatiens, portulaca, and short red salvia. There was one garden that seemed more cared for than the others and that had a plaque placed prominently, prominently in a garden bed that read Garden of the Week. And that is exactly the kind of gardener I am not and exactly the kind of garden I will never have. A garden made for a week is unknown to me. For years I have been making a garden and unmaking it too. It isn't out of dissatisfaction that I do and undo it is out of curiosity. That curiosity has not led to stasis. It has led to a conversation. And so it is. I have been having a conversation in the garden. And so it will be until I die.
Interviewer
You will forgive me, Jamaica, what does it mean to have a conversation in the garden?
Jamaica Kincaid
Ah, well, people, when they're in the garden, they say it's relaxing and it's all sorts of things that I do not find the garden to be. When I'm in the garden, I'm thinking I'll have a conversation with a plant I was planning, I was putting in the ground. And it turned out to be named after Thomas Jefferson. But its common name is Twinleaf and it has one leaf, but the leaf is divided in two and the two halves are not identical. And that seemed to me to reflect his personality as I know it from breeding him. So the other way around, which I know is going to sound awfully hooey, but it happens to be true. Plants in my garden tend to to be taller than the literature and they stoop over the way my back is stooped. Plants that you never really think of as self sowing put themselves in places that I haven't put them. Of course, it's a bird or an ant or something that's moved the seed around. The garden itself is having a conversation with me and I with it. I really take it, I don't take it as a plant, as just something for my enjoyment or my enhancement. I really believe we are having a back and forth. I was trying to understand the various ways leaves arrange themselves on a stem. And as I was. Well, I think you'd call it research, though I just call it reading. I came upon something called Fibonacci. I had never heard of Fibonacci, but there are some plants that arrange themselves in this way, which is, you know, the Fibonacci. See, everybody knows but me. I don't know what's.
Interviewer
Just for the record.
Jamaica Kincaid
Okay, well, the mathematics of it is 1 and 1 make 2, 2 and 1 make 3, 3 and 2 make 5. It's mathematical. But that is the conversation. Here I am, 76 years of age and I've just understood something that every school child understands.
Interviewer
How are the rabbits and the deer this summer? Are they eating you alone?
Jamaica Kincaid
No, because there's been a lot of rain. There are a lot of things to eat. The rabbits, I think, have been more malicious. The deer look at it longingly from a distance and I run outside with a shot that I shoot over their heads. And I think that will tell them that there's somebody who's not kind to them. But they really, and I do believe they can read. The deer can read. They're always going to a place that says, this place is protected from hunting. It's silly, but not silly. It's arrogant, I think, to think that the things don't know, the other existences don't know. We have something that's a back and forth. And I don't mean to be a Buddhist or I'm not talking about something spiritual, though I suppose it is. I don't mean it to be, but I can see with my own eyes that there are things in the garden that respond to me and me to them.
Interviewer
What are you writing these days? And as your attitude toward writing, whether it's ambition or passion or focus, is it any different than the piece that we began our conversation about?
Jamaica Kincaid
For me, you know, the world began in the year 1492, the world which is different from the earth. And 1492 is the year of the expulsion of Jews from Europe, Spain. Yeah. If you follow the way human beings have treated each other. 1492, the vegetable kingdom was rearranged completely. Tea was sent somewhere. Sugar cane was sent somewhere. And not that things shouldn't change, but. But they can be changed without bloodshed. There can be an exchange between people without domination and evil. Evil. So for me, as I reflect and look at this book of things, you know, I always tell my students, a writer should know everything and know nothing. And this, that thin line you walk and the know nothing is your unconscious. But I'm really amazed at how consistent certain things have been in my writing. And one of them is the world begins in 1492.
Interviewer
Jamaica Kincaid, thank you so much.
Jamaica Kincaid
Thank you, David. It's wonderful talking to you as always.
Interviewer
It's so much fun. It's a great guest to see you.
David Remnick
Jamaica Kincaid's new collection Gathers writings from 1974 on and it's called Putting Myself Together. You can also find work by jamaica@new yorker.com and of course you can subscribe to the New Yorker there as well. New yorker.com A quick word of thanks to everyone who wrote in to us with legal questions for our correspondents, Jeannie Suk, Gerson and Ruth Marcus. You sent a boatload of good questions and we'll answer as many as we can get to on next week's episode. I'm David Remnick. Thanks for listening. See you next time.
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The New Yorker Radio Hour is a co production of WNYC Studios and the New Yorker. Our theme music was composed and performed by Meryl Garbus of Tune Yards, with additional music by Louis Mitchell and Jared Paul. This episode was produced by Max Balton, Adam Howard, David Krasnow, Jeffrey Masters, Louis Mitchell, Jared Paul and Ursula Sommer with guidance from Emily Bottin and assistance from Michael May, David Gable, Alex Parish, Victor Guan and Alejandra Deckett.
David Remnick
We had assistance this week from Samantha Simmons and Will Coley.
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David Remnick
Saturday on Lifetime.
Jamaica Kincaid
You've been fired from your job and God knows where you were last night. You guys and your God.
David Remnick
When all is lost, don't run just for the sake of running.
Jamaica Kincaid
Because you may just be running for the rest of your life.
David Remnick
Only faith remains.
Jamaica Kincaid
I had to lose everything. Finally find God.
David Remnick
Starring Paula Patton.
Jamaica Kincaid
I am so scared.
David Remnick
Loretta Divine, Stephen Bishop and Keith Day David.
Jamaica Kincaid
I can't give up.
David Remnick
Don't miss Finding Faith premieres Saturday at 8 on Lifetime.
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The New Yorker Radio Hour: Jamaica Kincaid on “Putting Myself Together”
Release Date: August 5, 2025
Hosted by David Remnick
Produced by WNYC Studios and The New Yorker
In this insightful episode of The New Yorker Radio Hour, host David Remnick delves into the illustrious career of Jamaica Kincaid, celebrating her new collection titled “Putting Myself Together”. Kincaid, a revered writer whose works have graced the pages of The New Yorker since 1974, offers a reflective conversation that spans her experiences as a Caribbean immigrant, her evolution as a writer, and the intricate themes that permeate her storytelling.
David Remnick opens the discussion by highlighting Kincaid's remarkable ability to establish a unique literary voice early in her career. Kincaid began contributing to The New Yorker at the age of 25, a significant achievement she attributes to a serendipitous meeting facilitated by editor George Trow.
Quote:
"I was very resentful and even bitter, though I didn't have words for these feelings. Anyway, they sent me off to America with a family."
— Jamaica Kincaid [04:32]
Kincaid recounts how her first piece for the magazine was a dispatch from the West Indian American Day Parade in 1974, marking the beginning of her long-standing relationship with the publication.
Excerpt Reading:
Kincaid reads her inaugural Talk of the Town piece, vividly describing the parade and the dignitaries present. Her sharp observations and distinctive voice are evident as she portrays the Carnival Queen with both humor and critique.
Quote:
"But instead of waving to the crowd and smiling like a dummy...She was snapping her fingers, wiggling her hips and shuffling her feet all at the same time."
— Jamaica Kincaid [02:36]
The conversation shifts to Kincaid's personal journey from Antigua, then a British colony, to the United States. She discusses the challenges of immigration, the complexities of identity, and the impact of racial dynamics on her self-perception.
Quote:
"I never understood it. I thought they were just badly brought up, they were so rude. So I never had the feeling that if I was in a place and I was the only African American...But it didn't seem to affect my inner self, that self of who I think I am."
— Jamaica Kincaid [09:03]
Kincaid reflects on her upbringing in a predominantly black community and how it shaped her understanding of race and belonging in America.
Kincaid emphasizes the autobiographical nature of her work, distinguishing between personal truth and objective facts. She explains that her writings are deeply personal yet not constrained by factual accuracy, allowing her to explore complex emotional landscapes.
Quote:
"Everything I write is autobiographical, but none of it is true in the sense of a court of law. You know, a lie is just a lie. The truth, on the other hand, is complicated."
— Jamaica Kincaid [00:41]
Kincaid shares an excerpt from her 1992 piece "Biography of Address," where she intricately weaves memories with reflections on time and family traditions. The use of parentheses in her narrative technique underscores her obsession with time and the fluidity of memory.
Excerpt Reading:
"My second birthday was not a major event in anyone's life...two thorns that had been heated in a fire were passed through my earlobes."
— Jamaica Kincaid [11:16]
Discussion on Literary Techniques:
The interviewer commends Kincaid's masterful use of parentheses to convey shifting timelines and internal thoughts, highlighting her ability to navigate complex narrative structures seamlessly.
Quote:
"I have been obsessed with the notion of time from before I even knew there was such a thing."
— Jamaica Kincaid [13:23]
A passionate gardener, Kincaid discusses her relationship with her garden, portraying it as an ongoing conversation rather than mere maintenance. She draws parallels between the natural world and her creative process, illustrating how her environment influences her writing.
Quote:
"The garden itself is having a conversation with me and I with it. I really take it, I don't take it as a plant, as just something for my enjoyment or my enhancement."
— Jamaica Kincaid [21:18]
Through vivid descriptions, Kincaid shares anecdotes about her garden, demonstrating her belief in the interconnectedness of life and art.
In discussing her current work, Kincaid reflects on historical events and their lasting impacts, particularly the year 1492, which symbolizes both transformation and turmoil. She underscores the importance of acknowledging the complexities of history in her writing.
Quote:
"For me, the world began in the year 1492...there can be an exchange between people without domination and evil."
— Jamaica Kincaid [25:07]
Kincaid also shares her philosophy on writing, advising aspiring writers to walk the delicate balance of knowing everything and nothing, allowing the unconscious mind to inform their creativity.
As the episode draws to a close, Kincaid and Remnick encapsulate the essence of her literary contributions—an enduring dialogue between personal experience, cultural identity, and the broader human condition.
Final Quote:
"The world which is different from the earth."
— Jamaica Kincaid [25:07]
Kincaid's “Putting Myself Together” stands as a testament to her enduring legacy, offering readers a comprehensive look at her nearly half-century of written work.
If you haven't yet explored Jamaica Kincaid's rich body of work, “Putting Myself Together” is a compelling entry point. This episode not only provides a glimpse into her personal and professional journey but also offers profound insights into the intersections of memory, identity, and narrative.
Find More from Jamaica Kincaid:
This summary captures the essence of the podcast episode, providing an engaging and comprehensive overview of Jamaica Kincaid's interview on “Putting Myself Together.” It is structured to guide readers through the key points, enriched with notable quotes and timestamps for reference.