{"product_id":"not-without-laughter-isbn-9780143131861","title":"Not Without Laughter","description":"\u003cb\u003eOur greatest African American poet’s award-winning first novel, about a black boy’s coming-of-age in a largely white Kansas town, featuring an introduction by National Book Award finalist Angela Flournoy\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA Penguin Classic\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen first published in 1930, \u003ci\u003eNot Without Laughter \u003c\/i\u003eestablished Langston Hughes as not only a brilliant poet and leading light of the Harlem Renaissance but also a gifted novelist. In telling the story of Sandy Rogers, a young African American boy in small-town Kansas, and of his family—his mother, Annjee, a housekeeper for a wealthy white family; his irresponsible father, Jimboy, who plays the guitar and travels the country in search of employment; his strong-willed grandmother Hager, who clings to her faith; his Aunt Tempy, who marries a rich man; and his Aunt Harriet, who struggles to make it as a blues singer—Hughes gives the longings and lineaments of black life in the early twentieth century an important place in the history of racially divided America.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,800 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.“A lyrical, charming and moving story of a black Midwestern boy.” —\u003cb\u003eArnold Rampersad\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“An eye-opening portrait of the artist as a young black man in the Midwest.” —\u003cb\u003eA. Scott Berg, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eLangston Hughes\u003c\/b\u003e (1902–1967), a central figure of the Harlem Renaissance and one of the most influential and esteemed writers of the twentieth century, was born in Joplin, Missouri, and spent much of his childhood in Kansas before moving to Harlem. His first book of poetry, \u003ci\u003eThe Weary Blues, \u003c\/i\u003ewas published in 1926; its success helped him to win a scholarship to Lincoln University, in Pennsylvania, from which he received his B.A. in 1929 and an honorary Litt.D. in 1943. Among his other awards and honors were a Guggenheim Fellowship, a Rosenwald Fellowship, and a grant from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. Hughes published more than thirty-five books, including works of poetry, short stories, novels, an autobiography, musicals, essays, and plays.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eAngela Flournoy\u003c\/b\u003e (introduction) was a finalist for the National Book Award for her debut novel, \u003ci\u003eThe Turner House\u003c\/i\u003e, and for the Kirkus Prize for her novel \u003ci\u003eThe Wilderness\u003c\/i\u003e. Her fiction has appeared in \u003ci\u003eThe Paris Review\u003c\/i\u003e, and she has written for \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe New Republic\u003c\/i\u003e, and the \u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e. A graduate of the Iowa Writers' Workshop, Flournoy was raised by a mother from Los Angeles and a father from Detroit and now lives in Brooklyn.I.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Storm\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Aunt Hager Williams stood in her doorway and looked out at the      sun. The western sky was a sulphurous yellow and the sun a red      ball dropping slowly behind the trees and house-tops. Its setting      left the rest of the heavens grey with clouds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Huh! A storm's coming',\" said Aunt Hager aloud.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A pullet ran across the back yard and into a square-cut hole in an      unpainted piano-box which served as the roosting-house. An old hen      clucked her brood together and, with the tiny chicks, went into a      small box beside the large one. The air was very still. Not a leaf      stirred on the green apple-tree. Not a single closed flower of the      morning-glories trembled on the back fence. The air was very still      and yellow. Something sultry and oppressive made a small boy in      the doorway stand closer to his grandmother, clutching her apron      with his brown hands.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Sho is a storm comin',\" said Aunt Hager.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I hope mama gets home 'fore it rains,\" remarked the brown child      holding to the old woman's apron. \"Hope she gets home.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I does, too,\" said Aunt Hager. \"But I's skeared she won't.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Just then great drops of water began to fall heavily into the back      yard, pounding up little clouds of dust where each drop struck the      earth. For a few moments they pattered violently on the roof like      a series of hammer-strokes; then suddenly they ceased.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Come in, chile,\" said Aunt Hager.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She closed the door as the green apple-tree began to sway in the      wind and a small hard apple fell, rolling rapidly down the top of      the piano-box that sheltered the chickens. Inside the kitchen it      was almost dark. While Aunt Hager lighted an oil-lamp, the child      climbed to a chair and peered through the square window into the      yard. The leaves and flowers of the morning-glory vines on the      back fence were bending with the rising wind. And across the alley      at the big house, Mrs. Kennedy's rear screen-door banged to and      fro, and Sandy saw her garbage-pail suddenly tip over and roll      down into the yard, scattering potato-peelings on the white steps.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Sho gwine be a terrible storm,\" said Hager as she turned up the      wick of the light and put the chimney on. Then, glancing through      the window, she saw a black cloud twisting like a ribbon in the      western sky, and the old woman screamed aloud in sudden terror:      \"It's a cyclone! It's gwine be a cyclone! Sandy, let's get over to      Mis' Carter's quick, 'cause we ain't got no cellar here. Come on,      chile, let's get! Come on, chile! . . . Come on, chile!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hurriedly she blew out the light, grabbed the boy's hand; and      together they rushed through the little house towards the front.      It was quite dark in the inner rooms, but through the parlor      windows came a sort of sooty grey-green light that was rapidly      turning to blackness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Lawd help us, Jesus!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Aunt Hager opened the front door, but before she or the child      could move, a great roaring sound suddenly shook the world, and,      with a deafening division of wood from wood, they saw their front      porch rise into the air and go hurtling off into space. Sailing      high in the gathering darkness, the porch was soon lost to sight.      And the black wind blew with terrific force, numbing the      ear-drums.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e For a moment the little house trembled and swayed and creaked as      though it were about to fall.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Help me to shut this do',\" Aunt Hager screamed; \"help me to shut      it, Lawd!\" as with all her might she struggled against the open      door, which the wind held back, but finally it closed and the lock      caught. Then she sank to the floor with her back against the wall,      while her small grandson trembled like a leaf as she took him in      her lap, mumbling: \"What a storm! . . . O, Lawdy! . . . O, ma      chile, what a storm!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e They could hear the crackling of timbers and the rolling limbs of      trees that the wind swept across the roof. Her arms tightened      about the boy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Dear Jesus!\" she said. \"I wonder where is yo' mama? S'pose she      started out fo' home 'fore this storm come up!\" Then in a scream:      \"Have mercy on ma Annjee! O, Lawd, have mercy on this chile's      mama! Have mercy on all ma chillens! Ma Harriett, an' ma Tempy,      an' ma Annjee, what's maybe all of 'em out in de storm! O, Lawd!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A dry crack of lightning split the darkness, and the boy began to      wail. Then the rain broke. The old woman could not see the crying      child she held, nor could the boy hear the broken voice of his      grandmother, who had begun to pray as the rain crashed through the      inky blackness. For a long while it roared on the roof of the      house and pounded at the windows, until finally the two within      became silent, hushing their cries. Then only the lashing noise of      the water, coupled with the feeling that something terrible was      happening, or had already happened, filled the evening air.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After the rain the moon rose clear and bright and the clouds      disappeared from the lately troubled sky. The stars sparkled      calmly above the havoc of the storm, and it was still early      evening as people emerged from their houses and began to      investigate the damage brought by the twisting cyclone that had      come with the sunset. Through the rubbish-filled streets men drove      slowly with horse and buggy or automobile. The fire-engine was      out, banging away, and the soft tang-tang-tang of the motor      ambulance could be heard in the distance carrying off the injured.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Black Aunt Hager and her brown grandson put their rubbers on and      stood in the water-soaked front yard looking at the porchless      house where they lived. Platform, steps, pillars, roof, and all      had been blown away. Not a semblance of a porch was left and the      front door opened bare into the yard. It was grotesque and funny.      Hager laughed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Cyclone sho did a good job,\" she said. \"Looks like I ain't never      had no porch.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Madam de Carter, from next door, came across the grass, her large      mouth full of chattering sympathy for her neighbor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"But praise God for sparing our lives! It might've been worse,      Sister Williams! It might've been much more calamitouser! As it      is, I lost nothin' more'n a chimney and two wash-tubs which was      settin' in the back yard. A few trees broke down don't 'mount to      nothin'. We's livin', ain't we? And we's more importanter than      trees is any day!\" Her gold teeth sparkled in the moonlight.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"'Deed so,\" agreed Hager emphatically. \"Let's move on down de      block, Sister, an' see what mo' de Lawd has 'stroyed or spared      this evenin'. He's gin us plenty moonlight after de storm so we      po' humans can see this lesson o' His'n to a sinful world.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The two elderly colored women picked their way about on the wet      walk, littered with twigs and branches of broken foliage. The      little brown boy followed, with his eyes wide at the sight of      baby-carriages, window-sashes, shingles, and tree-limbs scattered      about in the roadway. Large numbers of people were out, some      standing on porches, some carrying lanterns, picking up useful      articles from the streets, some wringing their hands in a daze.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Near the corner a small crowd had gathered quietly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mis' Gavitt's killed,\" somebody said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Lawd help!\" burst from Aunt Hager and Madam de Carter      simultaneously.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mister and Mis' Gavitt's both dead,\" added a nervous young white      man, bursting with the news. \"We live next door to 'em, and their      house turned clean over! Came near hitting us and breaking our      side-wall in.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Have mercy!\" said the two women, but Sandy slipped away from his      grandmother and pushed through the crowd. He ran round the corner      to where he could see the overturned house of the unfortunate      Gavitts.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Good white folks, the Gavitts, Aunt Hager had often said, and now      their large frame dwelling lay on its side like a doll's mansion,      with broken furniture strewn carelessly on the wet lawn—and they      were dead. Sandy saw a piano flat on its back in the grass. Its      ivory keys gleamed in the moonlight like grinning teeth, and the      strange sight made his little body shiver, so he hurried back      through the crowd looking for his grandmother. As he passed the      corner, he heard a woman sobbing hysterically within the wide      house there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e His grandmother was no longer standing where he had left her, but      he found Madam de Carter and took hold of her hand. She was in the      midst of a group of excited white and colored women. One frail old      lady was saying in a high determined voice that she had never seen      a cyclone like this in her whole life, and she had lived here in      Kansas, if you please, going on seventy-three years. Madam de      Carter, chattering nervously, began to tell them how she had      recognized its coming and had rushed to the cellar the minute she      saw the sky turn green. She had not come up until the rain      stopped, so frightened had she been. She was extravagantly      enjoying the telling of her fears as Sandy kept tugging at her      hand.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Where's my grandma?\" he demanded. Madam de Carter, however, did      not cease talking to answer his question.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What do you want, sonny?\" finally one of the white women asked,      bending down when he looked as if he were about to cry. \"Aunt      Hager? . . . Why, she's inside helping them calm poor Mrs.      Gavitt's niece. Your grandmother's good to have around when folks      are sick or grieving, you know. Run and set on the steps like a      nice boy and wait until she comes out.\" So Sandy left the women      and went to sit in the dark on the steps of the big corner house      where the niece of the dead Mrs. Gavitt lived. There were some      people on the porch, but they soon passed through the screen-door      into the house or went away down the street. The moonlight cast      weird shadows across the damp steps where Sandy sat, and it was      dark there under the trees in spite of the moon, for the old house      was built far back from the street in a yard full of oaks and      maples, and Sandy could see the light from an upstairs window      reflecting on the wet leaves of their nearest boughs. He heard a      girl screaming, too, up there where the light was burning, and he      knew that Aunt Hager was putting cold cloths on her head, or      rubbing her hands, or driving folks out of the room, and talking      kind to her so that she would soon be better.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e All the neighborhood, white or colored, called his grandmother      when something happened. She was a good nurse, they said, and sick      folks liked her around. Aunt Hager always came when they called,      too, bringing maybe a little soup that she had made or a jelly.      Sometimes they paid her and sometimes they didn't. But Sandy had      never had to sit outdoors in the darkness waiting for her before.      He leaned his small back against the top step and rested his      elbows on the porch behind him. It was growing late and the people      in the streets had all disappeared.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There, in the dark, the little fellow began to think about his      mother, who worked on the other side of town for a rich white lady      named Mrs. J. J. Rice. And suddenly frightful thoughts came into      his mind. Suppose she had left for home just as the storm came up!      Almost always his mother was home before dark—but she wasn't there      tonight when the storm came—and she should have been home! This      thought appalled him. She should have been there! But maybe she      had been caught by the storm and blown away as she walked down      Main Street! Maybe Annjee had been carried off by the great black      wind that had overturned the Gavitts' house and taken his      grandma's porch flying through the air! Maybe the cyclone had      gotten his mother, Sandy thought. He wanted her! Where was she?      Had something terrible happened to her? Where was she now?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The big tears began to roll down his cheeks—but the little fellow      held back the sobs that wanted to come. He decided he wasn't going      to cry and make a racket there by himself on the strange steps of      these white folks' house. He wasn't going to cry like a big baby      in the dark. So he wiped his eyes, kicked his heels against the      cement walk, lay down on the top step, and, by and by, sniffled      himself to sleep.","brand":"Penguin Classics","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300716695781,"sku":"NP9780143131861","price":16.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780143131861.jpg?v=1767733907","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/not-without-laughter-isbn-9780143131861","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}