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Samuel Selvon, author of The Lonely Londoners, in 1958. Image: ANL / Shutterstock 
issue 17 October 2020

Nineteen fifty-six: the Suez crisis, the first Tesco, Jim Laker takes 19 wickets in a match. But also: Trinidadian pianist Winifred Atwell becomes the first black woman to have a UK number one with ‘The Poor People of Paris’; Kenneth Tynan announces a playwriting competition in the Observer, which is won by the Trinidadian dramatist Errol John, and a third Trinidadian, Sam Selvon, publishes his most enduring novel, The Lonely Londoners. He was photographed the same year by Ida Kerr, looking up out of shot past a crooked nose, a frown half creasing his forehead as a smile plays around the corners of his mouth.

Selvon’s novels are fatalistic comedies, written with a keen ear for the ironic possibilities of spoken language. They are well studied but not much read. It’s a shame. The Lonely Londoners had been a breakthrough for him. Like his previous novels, it focused on the lives of West Indian immigrants in 1950s British society.

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