"A chafing savage, down the decent street": the politics of compromise in Claude McKay's protest sonnets.

The project of cultural materialism is to examine the political implications of cultural artifacts, particularly their subversive potential. The critic attempts to reconstruct the social, political, and economic context that contributed to the formation of the art work, his or her intention being to examine how the artifact interacts with other cultural processes. Both cultural materialists and new historicists maintain that the art work enjoys a dynamic relationship of mutual exchange with the society that generated it (Greenblatt, "Poetics" 12).

The French philosopher Michel Foucault's theories of power were influential in the formation of the political theory that is the trademark of the new historicist/cultural materialist movement. Foucault argues that power in a given society is not centralized in the oppressive actions of a single individual or a ruling class, but instead emanates from all of its cultural practices (Holstun 200). The society's ideological apparatus conditions the individual, teaching him how to be an obedient social subject. This apparatus includes the legal, political, economic, and educational institutions as well as social structures such as the family.

Cultural materialists suggest that the individual, once shaped by social institutions, is unable to extricate him/herself sufficiently from the ideological predispositions of his/her age to challenge the dominant culture: "... if we come to consciousness within a language that is continuous with the power structures that sustain the social order, how can we conceive, let alone organize, resistance?" (Sinfield 35). This question has led to the "subversion/containment debate." The contending factions within this exchange disagree on the extent to which subversion is possible within the power structure. Stephen Greenblatt maintains that the individual is "remarkably unfree, the ideological product of the relations of power in a particular society" (Renaissance 256-57). In this model, subversion is effectively contained by the dominant power structure. Potentially seditious actions and ideas are shown to reinforce the dominant values of the society or are instrumental in providing an occasion for the state apparatus to employ its instruments of suppression and thus exert its authority in a dramatic display of its own invulnerability. On the other hand, Louis Montrose contends that the artist can achieve a "relative autonomy" in order to affect cultural change (5-11), "fashioning and refashioning consciousness, defining possibilities of action, shaping identities, [and] shaping visions of justice and order" (Fox-Genovese 222). This position is further reinforced by the recent work of cultural materialists who argue that subversive potential is facilitated by the inherent contradictions that are a part of the political mythology the dominant culture perpetuates in order to justify its own ascendancy, albeit these contradictions are normally effaced by the ideological apparatus of the society.(1)

These insights are especially relevant to an understanding of Claude McKay's protest sonnets, in which the contrast between form and content has long been observed. The poet chose to contain his politically volatile subject matter within a verse form that signifies the aristocratic European literary tradition. It is my contention that the ideological contradiction manifest in the practice of joining tradition and dissent is functional, that through this poetic compromise McKay was attempting to create a space in which to challenge white America's claim to cultural superiority. In order to ameliorate the social injustice experienced by African Americans in the early twentieth century, the poet had to appeal to the same group whose power he challenged in the poems' content, namely the European cultural apparatus in America. He did this by observing the ideological paradoxes manifest in America's treatment of minorities and by adopting Western literary traditions, and thus he gains a voice among those whose project of subjugation has been to efface the native cultural heritage of African-Americans and to silence the discourse of dissent. McKay challenges the American power structure at its most vulnerable points--its racial inequities and injustices, its ideological disparities. Three poems address this issue directly: "Look Within," "Tiger," and "Negro's Tragedy."

In "Look Within," McKay refers specifically to the efforts of the U.S. to combat fascism and racism in Europe and Asia while it allows its "fifteen million Negroes" to groan under the "Fascist yoke / Of these United States." Alluding to the Sermon on the Mount, the poet reminds the American power structure to

... Remove the beam

(Nearly two thousand years since Jesus

spoke)

From your own eyes before the

mote you deem

It proper from your neighbor's to

extract! (44)

The poet here exposes the hypocrisy of a state that mobilizes its military apparatus to crusade against emerging fascism in Europe and Asia, to fight for freedom and justice abroad, while it ignores the social injustices perpetrated on its own soil. McKay's persistent use of Biblical allusions within the poem is an effective reminder of the Christian obligations to charity and compassion that the U.S. has failed to realize. The poet begins with an imperative sentence addressed to God, portrays African Americans in a posture of humility pleading "for salvation" from tyranny, and twice paraphrases the Gospels. Thus McKay harnesses the authority of religion in order to demonstrate the legitimacy of his cause and to portray the oppressive American government as inconsistent with Christian tenets.

The poet condemns America for its lack of self-knowledge, and for its failure to amend its inequities; it "lies" to itself, closing its "eyes" to its own corruptions. Alluding to Shakespeare's Hamlet, McKay suggests that an infection--implicitly racial injustice--is destroying the country from within. The poet distinguishes between the reality of American life and the false shows that the country puts on for the world. While Hamlet's mother skims over the "ulcerous place, / whilst rank corruption, mining all within, / infects unseen" (II.iv.154-56), America pretends "to be uncorrupt of sin, / while worm-infested, rotten through within!" In the context of this allusion, the speaker of the poem parallels Hamlet, discontented by the political and moral corruption, angry over the usurpation of his deserved position in the social structure, and eager to "set things right."

McKay once again addresses the fraudulence of America's claims to world leadership in freedom and justice in "The Tiger," as he figuratively transforms the stripes of the American flag into the stripes of a predatory tiger that destroys African Americans both spiritually and physically. In the context of these implied injustices, McKay exposes the irony of America's effort to form new political systems abroad and predicts that governments based on racism will result:

Europe and Africa and Asia wait

The touted New Deal of the New

World's hand!

New systems will be built on race and

hate,

The Eagle and the Dollar will command. (47)

In an ironic reversal of the central idea of William Blake's "The Tyger," McKay does not ask if the same God who made the innocent lamb also created the vicious tiger. Instead, he wonders how the cruel and blood-thirsty tiger could nurture "new systems" that are neither political and economic predators nor objects of exploitation. McKay marvels that a country so confirmed in its discriminatory practices should be the model for new political systems and that this influence should be so widely regarded as a positive development. In this way, the poet exposes the dominant culture's control of signification. The power structure is free to create representations of its own legitimacy through the control of language. The "white man" defines his actions abroad as portending "the Light of Day," while effacing society's hypocritical treatment of minorities at home. The American power structure, victorious in war, can portray itself as a model for social equity while expanding its influence and multiplying the objects of its economic and political exploitation: "The tiger in his strength his thirst must slake!"

In "The Negro's Tragedy," McKay continues his attack on American political practices. Here the poet begins with a series of dramatic images illustrating the oppression of African Americans. He describes the "heavy iron chain" that binds the Negro, the wounds from which s/he suffers, and the "shroud" that "hides and buries" him/her. Once again, the poet employs Christian imagery to illustrate the tragically unjustifiable persecution that blacks must endure and the dignity which they maintain despite suffering: The African American is portrayed wearing a crown of thorns and bleeding from many wounds. The final couplet of the poem repeats the theme iterated in "Look Within" and "Tiger." McKay scoffs at the American statesmen busy trying to repair social relations in other countries while racial injustice mars political action at home: "Our statesmen roam the world to set things right. / This Negro laughs and prays to God for Light!" (50). The statesmen's philanthropic gestures to the rest of the world are not paralleled by any sincere domestic concerns. In the final line, the poet "prays to God for Light," once again appropriating the discourse of Christianity to legitimize his cause. The "Light," of course, will reveal the suffering that has been hidden in darkness. Here the poet suggests that ideology masks the grief of its socially marginal groups while it dramatizes its charity within the sphere of international affairs. The state establishes an arbitrary division between the oppression that is perpetrated abroad and the neglect and persecution that are a part of its own institutions.

Ironically, McKay's subversive efforts to expose America's hypocrisy in international affairs were appropriated and contained in ways the poet could not have anticipated. I refer specifically to the public reading of his poem "If We Must Die" by Winston Churchill during the war effort against Germany and Japan (Giles 41). This 1919 poem in which MacKay urged oppressed African Americans to rise up against their white persecutors, was employed two decades later by the dominant culture to rally support and, thereby, effect its own salvation in a war that the poet regarded as a blatant manifestation of ideological fraud. Thus his poem was made to reinforce the same political apparatus that it denounced. "If We Must Die" has been touted as the work that initiated the Harlem Renaissance. It encourages the persecuted to die with dignity, fighting against authority figures whom McKay portrays as "mad and hungry dogs" and "monsters" (36)--the effort, though hopeless, intended to restore to African Americans a dignity that had been undermined by centuries of oppression and contempt.

Of course, the poet invites this misuse by his own exploitation of Henry V's famous "St. Crispin Day" speech (IV.ii.18-67). In Shakespeare's play, the embattled and worn English troops, hopelessly outnumbered by the French, are urged to fight bravely in the seemingly hopeless battle for nothing but dignity and honor. Their deaths are almost assured. McKay's reference to his "kinsmen ... far outnumbered" is reminiscent of King Henry's promise that all men who fight heroically on St. Crispin Day will be his "brothers." That Henry V was a rallying point of English nationalism in their fight against Germany during World War II is evidenced by Olivier's film version, which was released in 1941 and which emphasized the unity of the British people. McKay's use of these materials constitutes a mutual appropriation of materials by the alienated minority artist and the power structure. Shakespeare's work constitutes the conservative European cultural traditions that are recuperated by the marginalized artist for the purpose of trans-forming the dominant culture. In turn, the government apparatus would recycle and reform the revolutionary potential of the art work, employing it to strengthen its power structures and, thereby, guarantee the continued persecution of minorities.

Perhaps the most subtle example of the subversion/containment model in Claude McKay's poetry, however, lies in the problem of its form. McKay's use of traditional poetic conventions such as the sonnet form has vexed scholars, most of whom have concluded that the practice is a flaw: "conflict between McKay's passionate resentment ... and his Victorianism in form ... creates a unique tension, which weakens [his poems'] success" (Giles 42). Most account for this conflict by invoking McKay's Jamaican, hence British, education. His literary consciousness was shaped by reading the writers of the traditional canon of English literature, and indeed one can recognize many specific allusions to these works in McKay's poetry. However, it is my contention that the sonnet form was not merely an accident of McKay's education, but was specifically selected to illustrate the poet's political agenda, to expose and undermine the many misconceptions about African Americans that the dominant culture seeks to perpeturate.

A part of McKay's poetic/political schedule is to reverse racial stereotypes by showing that the widely disseminated generalizations about African Americans are not only untrue but can be more appropriately applied to whites. Two of the most prevalent stereotypes are the association of African Americans with savagery and Western culture's equation of black to evil. The poem "To the White Fiends" begins with an articulation of many of the traditional stereotypes about blacks and has a threatening tone, suggesting that, if whites indeed believe these lies, then they should fear and respect this violent potential:

Think you I am not fiend and savage

too?

Think you I could not arm me with a

gun

And shoot down ten of you for every

one

Of my brothers murdered, burnt by

you?

Be not deceived, for every deed you do

I could match--out-match: am I not

Afric's son,

Black of that black land where

black deeds are done? (38)

Of course, the threatening tone of the passage is facetious. Momentarily indulging the irrational fears of white America, the poet illustrates his ability to carry out all of the evil deeds that are wrongfully attributed to his race--which makes his refusal to choose violence more extraordinary. After all, if a person who is actually disempowered and incapable of effecting a desired conclusion through force elects to avoid violence, he has made an insubstantial concession. So McKay first illustrates his ability to bring about his wishes through compulsion and then communicates his reasons for avoiding conflict. In the second half of the sonnet, he indicates that he has a specific, divinely ordained purpose in life--to be, despite his "dusky face," and emissary of "light" to the world. He is to "prove ... [himself] of higher worth." Thus, he deconstructs the traditional association of color with particular values. Perhaps, this "higher worth" involves the laboring in his poetic craft, a task whose goal is to effect positive social change. Instead of resorting to destruction and violence, he channels his anger into aesthetic contemplation, achieving change through creation, not violence. In the particular instance of this poem, the creation is a sonnet, a rule-governed verse form that is a product of the European aristocratic tradition; thus it signifies artistic dignity and restraint, a stark contrast to the path he could have chosen. His anger is literally contained within the designated number of lines and feet dictated by Western literary conventions. What the poet then subtly reveals is his own cultural superiority to those who oppress him and his race--not in terms of a foreign set of values that may be construed by the dominant culture as inferior to its own, but in accordance with those same practices and beliefs that constituted the heart of European cultural pride. The poet then effectively reverses the racial stereotypes, portraying himself as the successor to the great European aesthetic practices and representing the dominant power structure as vulgar and violent.

The final image of the poet carrying a lamp is a clear allusion to the Greek philosopher Diogenes' efforts to find an honest man, a task which necessitated a lamp even during the day. The use of this image in the poem signifies the poet's efforts to identify America's well-concealed virtues. Diogenes intentionally scorned Athenian society, living outside of the city in a tub and desiring nothing more from the conqueror Alexander than that he stand out of the sunlight. Contrary to Diogenes, the African American's exile from society is not self-imposed, as may be seen in the poet's demands for social and economic equality and his utilization of Western literary and philosophical traditions. Of course, the fact that Diogenes was the founder of the cynic school of philosophy has an amusing application to the poet's own pessimism about his prospects in America.

In his poem "America," McKay expresses both anger and admiration for the U.S. An account of America's offenses begins the poem, but ironically the narrator reveals that the brutality perpetrated against him feeds him, providing needed vitality. In the first two lines, he consumes "bread of bitterness" and is consumed by America's "tiger's tooth," and yet he claims to "love this cultured hell":

Her vigor flows like tides into my

blood,

Giving me strength erect against her

hate.

Her bigness sweeps my being like

a flood. (59)

In these lines, the poet appropriately assigns the odium of hatred to America, and not himself. He expresses an admiration that is requited with contempt. Yet he admits that the hate fills him with "vigor," perhaps because it supplies him with the subject matter necessary to labor in his poetic profession. Thus the phrase cultured hell suggests the creation of an art object out of the apparatus of violence and oppression; paradoxically, destruction generates artistic beauty. McKay goes on to express further adoration for the country, describing the awe and respect experienced by a rebel confronting a king's majesty, even the same king with whom he contends. Like the rebel, he shows only respect: "I stand within her walls with not a shred / Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer." The "walls" may be seen as a representation of the sonnet form within which the poet operates, and the absence of "jeers" an allusion to the poem's laudatory content. The final four lines of the poem predict the eventual destruction of America's "might and granite wonders there,/Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand." The prophecy is characterized by a tone of regret.

In this poem, McKay continues his concessions to the dominant culture by once again exploiting its wealth of literary models. The poem contains intertextual references to both Shakespeare and Shelley. In his sonnet "When in Disgrace with Fortune ...," Shakespeare creates a persona who is "outcast," troubling "deaf heaven with ... [his] bootless cries." McKay borrows this image, but with significant and functional alterations. The speaker of each poem is alienated, disaffected, and deprived. Both poems contain images of discontented individuals confronting massive structures, representing the institutions that spurned them. Finally, both works move from suggestions of irrepressible sorrow and rage to images of greater contentment. However, McKay's malcontent is exiled and disgraced within a "cultured hell"; he is not thrown out, but contained. Moreover, unlike the speaker of Shakespeare's poem, the black malcontent maintains his dignity and his charitable spirit. Despite suffering and persecution, the African American can still be awed by America's grandeur, and although he/she may never "sing hymns at heaven's gate," he/she can regret the inevitable destruction of America's "granite wonders." The final three lines of the poem borrow from both Shakespeare's sonnet "Nor Marble, nor the Gilded Monuments" and Percy Shelley's poem "Ozymandias." These two works emphasize the inexorable forces of time that bring humanity's most enduring labors to dust. Shakespeare's poem reminds us that "sluttish time" destroys all "monuments," and the epitaph on Ozymandias's grave invites passersby to admire the king's already vanished works. McKay's allusion to these works serves to undermine America's cultural pride, reminding the young and arrogant country that it too will inevitably sink "in the sand." The poem suggests that any country that feeds upon its own unoffending children must eventually destroy itself. This thesis places the marginalized individual in the role of the cultural savior, warning the nation against its pride and folly. Through the creative act, McKay salvages America's treasures by perpetuating the European aesthetic traditions that are a part of the declining cultural heritage. In "America," McKay reveals his moderate political agenda; he is not trying to destroy or abandon America, but endeavoring to amend it and enjoy it on equal terms with all other citizens.

In "The White City," the poet once again describes the way in which his anger and resentment are transformed into aesthetically productive passions. The poem is actually a reflection upon the crucial role that anger has played in the formation of his character and the development of his artistic gift. It is this emotion that animates his form, "fills" his "every mood," and causes him to live with vitality. Without the "dark passion," he would be only "a skeleton, a shell." Thus he finds within his destructive mood a cause for celebration and, paradoxically, a cause for love. It is America's hatred of minorities and his own reciprocal contempt that have provided the content for his art, and it is art that has fashioned his life and character. Despite the often debilitating effects of self-consuming anger, the poet has managed to control the chaotic passion by containing it within the boundaries of the strict sonnet form. Thus the poem suggests the formation of order and artistic beauty out of disorder and madness. The poet emphasizes the need to maintain his dignity, to restrain and channel his emotions: "I muse my life-long hate, and without flinch / I bear it nobly as I live my part." The nobility is manifest both in his actions and his use of the sonnet form. With the appropriation of the sonnet, he demonstrates that, despite his hatred, he is no savage, but a dignified and sensitive human being. The "heaven" that he creates in the "white world's hell" is once again a reference to the system and harmony that he imposes on social and intellectual confusion. In the sonnet's sestet, McKay reveals that he can maintain an artistic admiration for the city, viewing it as "through a mist," and in this context the city retains attributes that are worthy of his love. The passions that drove him to become an artist--anger and resentment--are the same passions that allow him to appreciate "the strident trains," "the poles and spires and towers," and "the fortressed port" (74). These are all objects of beauty and affection because of the artistic genesis hatred (both his own and the dominant culture's) has inspired in him.

McKay borrows from John Milton's Paradise Lost and William Blake's "The Cold and the Pebble" in the composition of "The White City." The reversal of values suggested by McKay's decision to make his "heaven" in "the white world's hell" is reminiscent of Satan's determination to make evil his good. The black malcontent, like Milton's Satan, defines himself in opposition to the power structure that oppresses him. He commits himself to hatred, suggesting that this passion has formed his identity and his art. Of course Milton's tragic hero is a perfect parallel to the outcast African American, forced to look on happiness and prosperity but never invited or allowed to share in it. In addition, the heroic efforts of Milton's Satan to combat a power structure against which he can never succeed correspond to McKay's plea that African Americans continue to strive for dignity and justice despite overwhelming odds against success. Satan reminds his followers that "the mind is its own place, and ... / Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heaven" (1.254-55). The allusion to Blake's "The Clod and the Pebble" is equally complex. Here McKay exploits Blake's distinction between two types of love: that which is self-sacrificing and consequently manipulated, and that which is self-serving and manipulative. As one might expect, McKay associates the embattled African American with the "clod" that "builds a heaven in Hell's despair," giving everything and receiving nothing in return. As a result, blacks are diminished and abused by the dominant culture like the clod "trodden by the cattle's feet." Inevitably, white America is the unyielding "Pebble of the brook." It expects complete sacrifice from the objects of its exploitation, but offers no recompense: it "Builds a Hell in Heaven's despite."

Finally, in "The White House," McKay addresses the profound difficulty he experiences in controlling his rage. The poem is initiated by a reference to the poet's exclusion from prosperity and affluence, signified by the closed door of the white house. However the poet suggests that, despite adversity, he retains his dignity and will not allow himself to commit an act of violence or to be overcome with self-consuming hatred:

... I possess the courage and the grace

To bear my anger proudly and unbent.

The pavement slabs burn loose beneath

my feet,

A chafing savage, down the decent

street ....

The conflict among pride, grace, courage, and savagery in this passage is one that can be easily resolved. The speaker's incivility derives from resentment over the social inequities signified by his exclusion from the white house, with its overtones of economic and political influence. As the poem progresses, the poet reveals the constant struggle he must undergo in order to subdue his hatred:

Oh, I must search for wisdom every

hour,

Deep in my wrathful bosorn sore and

raw,

And find in it the superhuman power

To hold me to the letter of your

law! (78)

Here McKay reveals the necessity of following the white power structure's laws despite the injustices. Perhaps he even intends to expose the hypocrisy of the legal mandates that necessitate passive responses from people who are subject to state-sanctioned violence and discrimination. In the sonnet's couplet, McKay concludes with an ironic reversal, ascribing the hatred to the white house and revealing that his heart remains "inviolate" while the racist state is incapable of controlling its violent passions. Thus, contrary to false stereotypes about people of African origin, McKay maintains control even when he has great provocation toward violence, while the white power structure, having no provocation at all, constantly succumbs to brutality against minorities.

As in the other poems, the structure of "The White House" is functional, intending to expose the efforts that the poet makes to conquer his rage. Instead of succumbing to "dark passions," his sentiments are channeled into a highly controlled verse form that results in an aesthetically pleasing, creative object. Perhaps the "feet" and the "decent street" are specific references to the meter and the respectability of the sonnet form, while the "chafing" and the burning slabs signify the poet's difficulty in suppressing his desire to break free from this structure. Moreover, "the letter of your law" which the poet finds so difficult to follow may also signify the exacting standards of the tightly organized sonnet.

The irrepressible rage of the speaker in "The White House" is motivated by the same conditions that both inflame and dishearten Milton's Satan. At the opening of Book IV in Paradise Lost, Satan gazes at the sun, and it reminds him of his exclusion from the divine presence; he is tormented by the fact that he will never again experience the joys of heaven. For a moment, Satan considers reconciliation, but eventually his rancor overcomes him, and he recommits himself to his awful task--the destruction of humanity--his only outlet for frustration and outrage. Like Satan, the speaker of "The White House" is tormented by the image of other people's prosperity and happiness and by the knowledge that he is eternally excluded from it. However, unlike Satan, he is able to repress his anger to maintain dignity and self-control, and this is the purpose of the allusion--to show the "superhuman power" of the black malcontent who does not succumb to rage and resentment even though there is a model for such behavior in the aesthetic traditions of Western culture. In so doing, he asserts his dignity and explodes racial stereotypes regarding blacks and savagery.

McKay's use of the sonnet has yet a further relevance. The usual content of the Renaissance sonnet includes expressions of both adoration and anger, the latter resulting from unrequited love. McKay cleverly manipulates these themes to his own advantage. The scorned lover of the Petrarchan sonnet pleads with his unyielding mistress, sometimes expressing admiration, sometimes hostility. McKay's attitude toward America involves a similar dichotomy. He appreciates America's "granite wonders," and he admits that the attributes of the white city are "sweet like wanton loves"; however, at other times, the country is a "cultured hell" and a bloodthirsty tiger. These erratic passions are indicative of the poet's desire to see his love and admiration requited by the nation that scorns him for his complexion. His malice is then derived from frustration, from the knowledge that his virtues will never be appreciated (Smith 3).

As a poet, McKay positions himself within the mainstream of European literary practices. He employs one of the most conventional verse forms and alludes to those figures who are at the center of the literary canon. Of course, he chooses to identify with characters who are in some way alienated from or discontented with the prevailing social order, and thus he illustrates his paradoxical position. He is both inside and outside of American culture; he is both central and marginal. In addition, McKay's highly allusive style and his emphasis on alienation link him with those writers who have been regarded as central to the American modernist movement--Eliot and Pound.

In McKay's sonnets, the hierarchical dichotomy between what has traditionally been regarded as high and low culture is deconstructed. The literary conventions and social practices intended to validate the claims to cultural superiority of Americans of European origin are effectively manipulated by the black artist who demonstrates his intellectual parity with the members of the society that rejects him. He chooses to make this compromise with the dominant culture in order to undermine potential claims that the practices of a purely black aesthetic are less challenging, less complex, or less meaningful than the endeavors of white artists. Through the mediation of central and marginal artistic practices, he gains a broader audience for his social complaints, an audience that may have dismissed him as culturally inferior if he had not employed the literary conventions widely regarded as indicative of high Western culture. At the same time, he illustrates his longing to break free from the confines of conventional poetic discipline: He must "search" for the "superhuman power" that holds him to "the letter of your law."

McKay's agenda for social tranformation does not involve fundamental change. He indicts America for its failure to live up to its own principles. By pointing out ideological contradictions and by undermining racial stereotypes, he is inviting the power structure to amend social inequities, to develop a consistent and truly equal policy toward all Americans. The country which claims to revere freedom, justice, and equality treats millions of people like second-class citizens. The country that seeks to promote Christian charity abroad is ultimately condemned by the same principles it endeavors to cultivate in others. The revelation of these inconsistencies does not have as its goal the collapse of the dominant power structure, but instead the reformation of that apparatus. McKay encourages the racist state to transform its rhetoric into objective reality and to recognize the substantial contribution that African Americans have to make to the society. The poet, in fact, manages to demonstrate that the country's own most fundamental principles are subversive, since they are wholly inconsistent with the practices of the power structure. In this way, his sonnets retain some of their revolutionary potential.

Note

(1.)Alan Sinfield terms these inconstencies which serve as the source for subversive potential within a society "faultlines," and Jonathan Dollimore, too, maintains that the "materialist critic contests ideology at its contradictions" (86).

Works Cited

Dollimore, Jonathan. Sexual Dissidence. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1991.

Fox-Genovese, Elizabeth. "Literary Criticism and the Politics of the New Historicism." The New Historicism. Ed. H. Aram Veeser. New York: Routledge, 1989. 213-24.

Giles, James R. Claude McKay. Boston: Twayne, 1976.

Greenblatt, Stephen. Renaissance Self-Fashioning. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1980.

_____. "Toward the Poetics of Culture." The New Historicism. Ed. H. Aram Veeser. New York: Routledge, 1989. 1-14.

Holstun, James. "Ranting on the New Historicism." ELR 19 (1989): 189-225.

McKay, Claude. Selected Poems of Claude McKay. New York: Harcourt, 1953.

Montrose, Louis. "Renaissance Literary Studies and the Subject of History." ELR 16 (1986): 5-12.

Sinfield, Alan. Faultlines: Cultural Materialism and the Politics of Dissident Reading. Los Angeles: U of California P, 1992.

Smith, Gary. "The Black Protest Sonnet." American Poetry 2 (Fall 1984): 2-12.