I do agree that there is a very strong jazz element in writers like James Baldwin. If you read Baldwin's fiction and pay attention to the his rhythm, and the sounds of the words he chooses, and the rhythmic way he uses repetition of words and phrases, repeating a certain word or phrase five or six times within a single paragraph, you can't help but notice that jazz influence. I'm thinking in particular of a Baldwin story called "Blues for Sunny." I don't have it here with me at the moment to quote from, but look at the short passage quoted on p. 72 of Roots.

It seems to me that in literature classes, even on poetry, there is much too much emphasis on the thematic aspects of literature and not nearly enough on its sound. I guess this is because it's easy to write complicated critical papers and books on an author's themes, but the sound of writing is something one has to experience directly rather than through mediation by a commentator.

I'm running short on time now, so let me go back to harp on one of my own favorite themes. We can see from Brathwaite's examples how West Indian literature has benefitted greatly by tapping into the vitality of the language of everyday life and popular culture. But why is it that we find it so hard to notice that vitality of our own popular culture, as found in popular music and films?

And ... (I hardly dare to say this) ... advertising. I realize that we feel a need to marshal our forces to resist the insidious messages of advertising, and consequently have trouble noticing advertising's charm except when it's from a period at least a few decades ago and consequently no longer threatens us with its power. But as writers (and artists), I think we can scarcely afford to ignore the enormously high degree of craft often found in advertising.

For those interested in sudden fiction, consider the amount of craft involved in telling a short story in a minute or less of television time.

Or consider the way in which the ideas of the surrealists have been refined by advertising (not to mention music videos). One may claim that the American masses are incapable of understanding subtlety, and yet over and over again one sees advertising which is effective by expressing its message by way of indirection. If advertising were to baldly state messages like, ``Drinking Pepsi will make you popular,'' or ``Wearing the right kind of jeans will make women attracted to you,'' it would have no credibility. And yet the same messages, expressed indirectly, have power.

Can we as writers be equally effective in the use of subtlety in our poetry and fiction?