The Short Stories of Langston Hughes
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This collection of forty-seven stories written between 1919 and 1963--the most comprehensive available--showcases Langston Hughes's literary blossoming and the development of his personal and artistic concerns. Many of the stories assembled here have long been out of print, and others never before collected. These poignant, witty, angry, and deeply poetic stories demonstrate Hughes's uncanny gift for elucidating the most vexing questions of American race relations and human nature in general.
seemed to feel that he in any way had caused her death. Chips said, “Women just can’t help it. They go wild over the kid, clean crazy. See what a fool this skirt was.” And the captain called him to his room and talked with him after breakfast. But in a few days the youngster was all right again, laughing, singing, joking, and swearing as usual. And the night we docked at Freetown I saw him take the little black Bible that had once belonged to Daisy Jones and put it in his box along with a garter
Greek nothin’, Virgin.” It was Mike from Newark speaking. “Get up an’ sock him in the eye!” The absurdity of this command brought a gale of laughter from the men on the hatch. Chips rolled over and over. But for some reason or other it angered the fireman. “What a hell you tell da kid to hit me for? You would ain’t do it yourself,” the Greek yelled. “Stand up an’ see if I won’t,” countered Mike. There hadn’t been a fight on board for three days now and the ship plowed slowly and calmly through
forgot about them, he published at least two short stories in high school, in the Central High School Monthly magazine, when he lived in Cleveland, Ohio, between 1916 and 1920. One extant story, perhaps vicariously autobiographical, is “Seventy-five Dollars,” about a lonely boy who pines for a happier, higher life, which his family, mired in poverty, would deny him. Another extant story is “Mary Winosky,” which was ostensibly based on a newspaper report about a humble scrubwoman who left at her
…” said Dr. Brown, speaking as a mouthpiece of the administration, and speaking, too, as mouthpiece for the Negro students of his section of the South, and speaking for himself as a once-ragged youth who had attended the college when its rating was lower than that of a Northern high school so that he had to study two years in Boston before he could enter a white college, when he had worked nights as redcap in the station and then as a waiter for seven years until he got his Ph.D., and then
said, ‘The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.’” “He sho did!” cried Bud’s mother. “Hallelujah!” Mama agreed loudly. “Glory be to God!” “Then the big people of the land heard about Jesus,” the preacher went on, “the chief priests and the scribes, the politicians, the bootleggers, and the bankers—and they begun to conspire against Jesus because He had power! This Jesus with His twelve disciples preachin’ in Galilee. Then came that eve of the Passover, when he set down with His