Poet and teacher Kate Clanchy's inspirational Some Kids I Taught and What They Taught Me; Caroline Criado Perez's analysis of data's hidden sexism, Invisible Women; Bernardine Evaristo's Booker prize-winning novel Girl, Woman, Other (recommended several times already on this blog); Colson Whitehead's shocking and powerful story of systemic abuse in a children's home, The Nickel Boys; and The Windrush Betrayal, journalist Amelia Gentleman's account of how she exposed the scandal of injustice suffered by some of the Windrush Generation - British citizens who travelled from the Caribbean to the UK in the late 1940s, 50s, and 60s, but found themselves reclassified as illegal immigrants, under the Home Office's 'hostile environment' policy after 2012, and were detained, denied their medical, social and legal rights, and even deported as a result.
Yesterday was the seventy-second anniversary of the arrival in London of the SS Empire Windrush, after whom the Windrush Generation are named: you can find out more about the ship's passengers on the BAME classroom here. And until Wednesday, you can watch the National Theatre's brilliant adaptation of Andrea Levy's novel Small Island, which dramatises the generation's story, on the National Theatre Live's youtube channel here.
There are so many other stories waiting to be told, and shared, and dramatised in their turn: the campaign for a Black Curriculum, which you can find out more about here, focusses on just a few, as does David Olusoga's Black and British: A Forgotten History, available on BBC iPlayer here.
For even more stories, it is worth revisiting Robert Winder’s 2004 history of UK immigration, Bloody Foreigners - the title, I hasten to add, is ironic. Winder was writing at a time when some tabloid newspapers were full of headlines attacking ‘bogus’ asylum seekers, and politicians and pundits were pushing a narrative about Britain being ‘swamped’ by immigrants. He set out to establish an alternative story about British national identity - one that highlights just how diverse and polycultural the UK is and always has been, from the moments when the first wanderers crossed the peninsula that connected Europe to Britain at the end of the Ice Age.
Every chapter is utterly fascinating, and studded with stories that make you want to dig further and find out more, chipping away at British insularity. Winder has a Bill Bryson-ish eye for intriguing light-touch historical detail, tracking the impact of different nations on the UK's national institutions and the traces they've left on its language, culture and habits. Castles? French. Golf-courses? Dutch. Hoppy beer? German. Shampoo? Indian. Banks and bankruptcy? Italian. Law? Those lawless Vikings.
Find out more about the Danelaw here
Alongside such broad, attention-grabbing brush-strokes, built on 'a family of scholarly forbears' he is proud to acknowledge, Winder is also interested by the complexities of history, and the traces that haven't been left behind, recognising that the historical record is often more deeply marked by those at the extremes of social experience - celebrated because they've succeeded: 'what of the thousands who didn't leave their mark? We don't have the testimonies of those who suffered merely private misfortunes, who went mad with grief at the loss of their wives, husbands, or children, or died of malnutrition, tuberculosis, or a broken heart. We know little of those who came unstuck at the wrong end of an unsolved clubbing down at the docks, their skulls broken when a sudden flash of anti-foreigner fury possessed some drunken English roughs, and their bodies tossed thoughtlessly into the slimy brown river.' Arguably - as with the discussion of identity politics in the final chapter - this is a moment where a clear difference between 2004 and 2020 can be seen.
But Winder's account of Britain's more recent response to immigration in the penultimate chapter 'Fortress Britain' is as relevant now as it was 15 years ago, as the Windrush Scandal sadly demonstrates. As a self-proclaimed optimist, Winder believes that 'individual open-mindedness has often defeated our nastier streak'. Perhaps. You'd like to hope so. The one duty we owe to history, according to Oscar Wilde, is to re-write it: and that is exactly Winder's aim. Many of the books on this year's Orwell's prizes shortlist, do something similar: and this year's nominations, as well as those short- and long-listed since the prizes were launched in 1994 - you can find a full list here - are well worth a look.
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