Only Stars Know the Meaning of Space: A Literary Mixtape by Rémy Ngamije
Many thanks to
Gallery Books and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Only Stars Know the Meaning of Space: A Literary Mixtape by Rémy Ngamije. When I initially saw the title, I wondered what
exactly a literary mixtape is. I miss the art of the mixtape. I used to love
staying up late to make mixtapes, not only for myself, but for friends,
crushes, girlfriends. Mixtapes were always a kind of musical artifact that not
only reflected what I was listening to at the time, but also almost like a drug
that could alter my emotions making me feel elated, nostalgic, or even getting
me hyped up for something. I also thought that receiving mixtapes was one of
the coolest gifts as well. I often learned about new bands, musical styles, and
artists from mixtapes from friends. A girlfriend from college made me some
mixtapes, and I still have emotional connections to some of the songs, and if
one song from that mixtape comes on the radio or I hear it somewhere else, it
takes me back in the day. Although Rémy Ngamije’s new book doesn’t really have much
to do with music, his writing is lyrical and the chapters/entries into this
book operate much like a mixtape, eliciting emotions and capturing different
time periods from Cicero’s (the main character) life of nearly 30 years. These
are the A-sides. The alternating chapters, or B-sides, feature different
stories and narratives. And while they are not focused on the Cicero’s
experiences or perspectives, many of the stories deal with similar themes of friendship
(especially male friendship), family, education/school, art, and love. After
reading the first few chapters, I was a little disappointed to see that there
really wasn’t any kind of musical theme to any of the stories. Ngamije’s
writing incorporates some references to music and rap, and some of the
characters’ narration is lyrical and reflective of 90s-early 00s hip-hop
braggadocio. Early on, I was even a little turned off by the perspectives of
some of the characters towards women. With the A-sides, Cicero is reflecting on
a past love, the seemingly ideal girlfriend who got away, while he has had other
girlfriends who never seem to measure up to his past love. One of them, in “Black,
Colored, and Blue (or, the Gangster’s Girlfriend)” is about his tryst with a Gangster’s
girlfriend. Although Ngamije’s writing is lyrical, unique and creative, I didn’t
really like this story too much. It seemed somewhat unrealistic that the
Gangster’s girlfriend would date Cicero, who lived a kind of ascetic life in a
small apartment. In other stories like “Yog’hurt (or Just Breathe)”, Cicero takes
a kind of dismissive tone of his girlfriend’s interests, and although he takes
a yoga class with her, his mind wanders to other women in the class. These
kinds of stories made me dislike Cicero initially. I could almost understand
why his girlfriend left him, but I didn’t understand why he continued to follow
her on Instagram and pine for the old days. Other B-side stories like “The
Giver of Nicknames” had a powerful message about justice (or lack thereof) and
money, but I also struggled to understand the narrator’s inaction in the story
and the consequences that result from his inaction. Maybe that was the point—it
definitely made me uncomfortable, but thinking back now, the story has a
powerful message. Somewhere after that story (I think it is with the next story
“Little Brother (or, Three in the Morning)”), Cicero experiences a dramatic
change in his life, and it’s like the mixtape songs grow up. He’s no longer
listening to juvenile music, but is seeking out more meaningful and emotional
music. I’m glad that I kept this mixtape playing, because the stories/chapters
in the latter half of the book were a much better experience for me. We see
Cicero experience change, whether that is just a natural part of maturity or
due to the serious event in his life, Cicero’s narrative and perspective took a
better turn and the stories were also more endearing and engaging. In this way,
I can see how this book functions like a mixtape. There’s a variety of styles
and perspectives, with an underlying theme dealing with relationships,
emotions, growth, and maturity, and Cicero’s stories and experiences, both
reflecting on and navigating through life, help to maintain these themes. The
last few chapters are really great, so if you want to fast-forward this tape, definitely
check out those tracks towards the end. However, I would also recommend
rewinding the tape and going back to check out some of the B-sides and earlier tracks
from Cicero’s life. Seeing the end and how he changed might give us a different
kind of perspective on where he was earlier, still raw and angry from the
break-up and other events in his life. It’s like listening to a old favorite at
a new point in your life, when you might recognize some new instrument or have
a different perspective on a lyric. Things change as we have more experiences
and live more of life. Needless to say, I’m glad I let this tape play all the
way through because Ngamije has a great, lyrical style, at times
free-associating and name checking various interests, whether it’s poets, authors,
artists, movies, or musicians. Really cool and unique. The one thing I wondered,
though, is how different this book would be if it was really arranged like a
mixtape with an A Side and B Side in order instead of alternating. I wonder if
Cicero’s story would have a different flow to it or if there would be a
different kind of unity to the B Side stories. Nevertheless, it is an
interesting experiment with some other experimental approaches to narrative
style. Recommended.
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