SUFFERAH

A memoir showing how reggae music sustained the author as a troubled youth and helped him become a successful author.

Wheatle has written numerous novels, including Cane Warriors and Straight Outta Crongton, about sufferahs, those who, born into disadvantaged circumstances, navigate “a hostile environment, often at a terrible personal cost, for a purpose bigger than themself.” In this inspiring, often harrowing narrative, the author chronicles how, shortly after he turned 3, he was abandoned by his parents and placed in the care of the government. That led to a childhood of physical and sexual abuse on top of the racism and police brutality he experienced growing up in Brixton, England, in the 1970s and ’80s. Wheatle felt like he was alone in the world, failed by the systems that were supposed to support him, but he found solace in reggae. The lyrics from classics from reggae legends like Bob Marley, Dennis Brown, and Lee “Scratch” Perry offered comfort and advice for him during stressful times, especially after he was imprisoned for participating in the 1981 Brixton uprising against racism. The music, especially the bass lines, prompted him to dance, which provided one of the few escapes, albeit temporary ones, from his troubles. As dark as his early memories are, Wheatle describes his reggae memories with glimmers of hope and appreciation. “The resident sound system was the Mighty Observer, operated by a dreadlocked guy named Austin,” he recalls. “One of his crew was a bulky brother nicknamed Rhino. When he hit the floor, you had to be careful he didn’t take you out with his wild skanking, hence his moniker.” It’s those flickers of happiness that make a seemingly bleak story bearable. Eventually, Wheatle found purpose from his prison cellmate and was able to start turning his life around.

A striking tribute to reggae’s ability to protect a fragile soul when seemingly everything else had failed him.